In 2003, The Fulcrum headed to Edmonton for the Heritage Hockey Classic between the Edmonton Oilers and the Montreal Canadiens (both old and new). The verdict? Un-freaking-believable.
Gimme some Gretz
By Chris Hilton
IT IS NEARLY impossible to describe how cold -25°C is. It is a number that evokes no real meaning until you spend seven hours outside in a temperature that low. It is not something I would wish upon anyone. Your toes freeze, your cheeks go numb, even beer turns to ice.
There are very few things in this world that would keep me outside in such frigid temperatures. There are very few things that would get me to fly across the country, pay for hotel and food, and sit outside in arctic temperatures for seven hours. A chance to see Wayne Gretzky is one of those things.
I have been a hockey fan since as far back as I can remember. I have played the game for more than 20 years and I have been to countless NHL games. I know that Gary Leeman is one of only three Toronto Maple Leafs ever to score 50 goals in a season – Dave Andreychuk and Rick Vaive are the others and I define my spring by how far the Leafs go in the playoffs.
This is why I was willing, along with 57,000 other fans, to sit for hours in the freezing cold to see the Heritage Hockey Classic this past weekend in Edmonton. The game’s concept was simple. Take a football stadium, add an ice rink, mix in a few all-star old-timers, and play a couple hockey games. In a country where hockey is the national pastime this was a brilliant idea, and the event did not disappoint.
I was lucky – I had my tickets secured in August after one of the best birthday presents ever from my girlfriend J.J. Others, however, were not as fortunate. Organizers of the game estimated they would receive about 200,000 requests for the 50,000 tickets. Instead, they got almost a million ticket requests from people all across Canada and the U.S. who desperately wanted to be part of the first-ever outdoor NHL hockey game. Many were turned away; scalper tickets were rumoured to go for as high as a thousand dollars.
From the moment that I stepped off the plane, it was clear Edmonton was serious about its hockey. Talk of the game was everywhere. The shuttle driver gave us his thoughts on Gretzky and how sad it was when he left Edmonton. The hotel receptionist was extremely impressed that my girlfriend and I had come all the way from Ottawa to see “that crazy game.” Of course, since it was my first trip to the “City of Champions”, I made the obligatory trip to the West Edmonton Mall. It was huge and impressive…but I couldn’t stop thinking about The Great One.
Ah, good ol’ Gretz: the greatest player to ever lace up the skates. Even those who are not hockey fans know who Gretzky is. He is the epitome of Canadian hockey and the best possible ambassador for the sport. Sure, it would be cool to see an outdoor game with the likes of Kevin Lowe, Jari Kurri, and Guy LaFleur. But Wayne in an Oilers jersey… come on! Gretzky was and still is a Canadian icon. While playing hockey in front of my house as a child, I always pretended I was Gretzky. On the ice, I tried to tuck my jersey in like him and I used the same stick he did. I would even have been an Oilers fan if my dad had let me (in the Hilton household, there was only one team: the Toronto Maple Leafs).
In short, he is my hockey hero. I could barely sleep the night before and I was putting on my long johns at 10 in the morning, well before I would leave for the game. Despite the cold, I arrived an hour and a half before the “Megastars” old-timers game was set to start. To put this in perspective, this was like standing at an unsheltered bus stop in February an hour before your bus is scheduled to arrive.
I soon realized that, although I was prepared for the cold, I had no idea what I was doing. Edmontonians know how to dress for the cold; they all seemed to have huge winter boots and matching snow gear. They didn’t seem to notice it was -20 degrees outside. It seemed like this was just another crisp day in November.
Some people had a host of tricks to ensure that they stayed warm. “If you put Styrofoam under your feet it helps fight the cold,” said one fan adorned in a Gretzky jersey with two frozen beers in his hands. “We brought three sleeping bags,” said a family of four who sat in front of me.
Apparently, that still wasn’t enough-they left shortly after the old-timers game. For me, the best defence against the cold was hot chocolate with a liberal splashing of Bailey’s Irish Cream, which I drank in mass quantities prior to the puck drop. The Canadian Snowbirds kicked off the day with a flyby and energized the fans as the players in the old-timers match were announced. Each skater received a roar from the crowd as they were introduced, but the fans were reserving their true adulation for the end.
Fittingly, the last player to be introduced was Wayne Gretzky. For the first time in 13 years he stepped on the ice wearing an Oilers jersey, and the entire stadium rose to its feet and roared in excitement. You must realize that standing up in such cold weather, and losing your “warm spot” is an extreme sacrifice. Even when the real Oilers scored in their game against the Canadiens, fans were unwilling to stand up and cheer, but we all knew how important it was to pay tribute to Wayne.
The old-timers game was fairly laid back. The Oilers won 2-0 and there were few electrifying plays. Just watching Gretzky and his trademark hunched-over skating style and pinpoint passes was enough for me. In his few shifts, he touched the puck sparingly and failed to score-but he sure didn’t fail to thrill the crowd. I was in what felt like an Arctic heaven.
Once Wayne left the ice, however, heaven’s freezing temperatures told me it was time to go. The regular season NHL game between the Canadiens and the Oilers that followed the classics game was exciting, but many fans, including me, left before the game ended because of the cold. I left knowing that I had experienced a moment in Canadian hockey history: I got to see the Great One in an Edmonton jersey, and now I have a story to tell my grandchildren about the greatest hockey player ever.
Fellowship of the rink
By Dorotea Gucciardo
“ARE THOSE EGGS? I’ve never seen eggs that colour before.” I smiled at Walter Gretzky as he poked a spoon at a creamy off-white substance that we both presumed to be scrambled eggs. He shrugged his shoulders and scooped a spoonful onto his plate.
Uncertainties about the hotel breakfast aside, I asked him if he was excited to see his son play in the old-timers hockey game scheduled for later that day. “Is that today?” he asked, jokingly. “Better layer up – it’s cold out there.” I posed for some pictures with the famous father before making my way through a small crowd of curious onlookers and settled down next to my brother Gaspare at our table.
My brother (who so graciously paid for my way to Edmonton) and I watched as the elder Gretzky happily signed some autographs for a little boy sporting an Oilers jersey-wearing number 99, of course. “Get ready Dor,” Gaspare said to me. “You’re going to be witnessing history today.”
Stowed away in the far corner of his bedroom closet, inside a shoebox beneath layers of clothing, secured between two inches of glass, and sealed shut with four screws, my brother hides what he refers to as his most valuable possession – an original Wayne Gretzky rookie card. I’ve never been a stranger to the name Wayne Gretzky — I think virtually every true-blooded Canadian knows who he is.
However, growing up as someone who never really got into the game, I never really understood what all the fuss was about. The Great One. What makes him so great? Growing up, there was a rule in my house that my two older brothers regularly enforced: if there was a hockey game on, we were watching it. And this usually involved an entire process: sending me out to buy three big bags of chips (one for each period) and three two litre bottles of Pepsi (again, one for each period), and moving the couch around to a certain angle in order to maximize viewing space. I was forced to either watch hockey or find something else to do.
As a ten-year-old kid, this was unfair, but seeing as they were a lot bigger than me, I had no other choice but to oblige. Perhaps it was my unwillingness to learn the sport, or my brothers’ outward annoyance at answering any of my questions, but I grew up never really understanding hockey. (For the longest time, I used to think high-sticking referred to when players raised their sticks up into the air- usually in celebration of a goal. Why I thought that is now beyond me.)
Naturally, it came as a complete shock to me when Gaspare asked if I wanted to go to Edmonton for the Heritage Classic Hockey Game. Of course I said yes — even if I wasn’t very knowledgeable about the sport, I’m not one to ever pass up a trip. For my brother, and for others I’m sure, watching Wayne Gretzky and his original teammates play on an outdoor hockey rink was going to give him a chance to relive his youth; for me personally, it was a chance to escape from the stress that is university life. On the morning of the game my brother and I mingled in our hotel lobby, hoping to catch a glimpse of any hockey players.
It turned out that Steve Shutt, former left-winger for the Montreal Canadiens and on the starting line-up for the old-timers game, was speaking in a conference room. I had never heard of him before but my brother and I snuck in as he was finishing his speech. Despite not being familiar with Shutt’s hockey career, I approached him and asked how he thought the game was going to be. “It’s going to be cold out there, but it’s really going to be a lot of fun. Our teams are part of history and everyone should be happy when this weekend is over,” he said. “It’s going to be a hard fought battle. No one wants to fight but everyone wants to win.”
As I walked into Commonwealth Stadium and saw the hockey rink in the middle of the football field, it hit me how special these two games really were. Despite my limited experience with hockey, I could sense that watching a hockey game outdoors was, well, different. Over 57,000 people surrounded me, enduring the -25°C weather conditions just to watch a hockey game outdoors.
This game — this day — mattered so much to the people around me that it instantly mattered to me. It wasn’t important that I didn’t understand (and still don’t understand) what off-side means (off what side? I’ll never understand). It wasn’t an issue if I didn’t know the names of all the players. What mattered was that I was a part of an event that was bringing a sport back to its roots. A collective vibe emanated from the crowd of spectators in anticipation for the hockey games. I felt like a little kid again waiting patiently for a great show and many fans around me expressed the same sentiments.
The old-timer game was more of a spectacle than a competitive match that would normally be associated with hockey. I tried to do my best to sit through both 15-minute halves, but the pending frostbite on my feet wouldn’t let me. I needed more pairs of socks. The whistle barely blew during that game so I didn’t have to worry about not understanding what was going on. I decided to root for the home team and was pleased with the Edmonton 2-0 win.
Others around me, however, were somewhat disappointed. Many expected the hockey greats to reach up to the double digits. During the regular season NHL game, the crowd expressed a different tone. Of those who decided to bear the frigid conditions, many expressed a much more competitive spirit towards the hockey teams and with each other. Spectators shouted vicious comments to each other and to the players on the ice, whereas in the old timers game the crowd actually laughed at the players on the ice-laughter is something I never would have imagined hearing at a hockey game.
I endured seven and a half hours of freezing cold temperatures to watch a sport whose dynamics I never truly understood. But the mood of the crowd was such that by the second period of the regular season NHL game, I was probably complaining louder than anyone around me that Edmonton’s potential tying goal was called off. For the first time in my life, I was truly immersed in the game that is hockey, and I loved it.
ABOUT THESE ARTICLES:
- These were originally published in November of 2003
- 20 years later, outdoor games have become a staple for the National Hockey League; the Heritage Classic returned to Edmonton this past October
- Dorotea Gucciardo was one of two Fulcrum news editors for the Fulcrum’s 64th volume while Chris Hilton served as EIC for the term.
