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Same game, new number
By Cam Tait
March 27, 2006
There was one night, long before cell phones, when I was perched high in the rafters in the press box in Edmonton. It was minutes after an Edmonton Oiler victory and I jumped to the nearest telephone. An out-of-town reporter was on the horn with his editor, putting the finishing touches on a game story. I stared him down pretty good, I guess, because he hurried the call and then very sheepishly said: "It's all yours to call your office."
"Office, schm-office," I muttered under my breath, "I have to call my Dad and see what he thought of the game. That's far more important than talking to an editor. Isn't it?"
My Dad and I have been talking hockey for more than 40 years. It began when he started taking me to the neighbourhood rink to watch my friends play. I could never play the game because I have cerebral palsy, but Dad would anchor a wooden stool in the snow bank for me to sit on. Whenever it wasn't too cold for outdoor hockey, we'd be there.
In the late 1960s, Dad made one of my dreams come true. He took me to Maple Leaf Gardens in Toronto to see the Maple Leafs and the New York Rangers play. And for the icing on the cake, he arranged to take me down to the Leaf dressing room to meet some of my favourite players.
When my brother started playing competitive hockey, Dad and I would watch with pride. We'd come home many nights, and over a warm cup of hot chocolate, we'd sit at the table and dissect the game. It was at that kitchen table that my father and I had some of our greatest chats.
I've been lucky enough to have a press pass for the Edmonton Oilers for many years. Even when the games were televised, Dad always asked me to call from the press box and give him an update. "Call me at the end of the period," he would say. It became so routine that the chap who sat next to me knew my parents' phone number off by heart.
With time, Dad became less mobile. When he was forced to give up his driver's license, his nights of going to local arenas to watch hockey games were pretty much over. I try to call him as often as I can when I'm covering a game. Although it might not be the Oilers since I now cover junior hockey, it doesn't matter to Dad. He enjoys hearing about the goals, the saves, and the fights, And like all hockey fans, Dad and I get pretty excited at this time of year, when the playoffs are just around the corner.
When I called him from the games, I always knew just where he was sitting: in his chair by the doorway leading to the kitchen table where we enjoyed so many chats. Dad and I will be following hockey well into the spring. But things are different now, and we all knew the time was coming.
After 42 years of living in the same house, and after watching countless hockey games from his favourite chair, Dad moved about a week ago to a facility where he'll get more care. I have a new telephone number to call - and Dad has a bigger television to watch the game.
Cam Tait is a sports reporter for the Edmonton Journal. He covered charitable issues for almost 20 years. Thoughts, comments, ideas or a simple hello are welcomed at cam@charityvillage.com.
Opinions expressed by columnists are their own and do not necessarily reflect the views of CharityVillage.com®.
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