Have you ever been given the opportunity to fulfill a childhood dream, only to freak out at the prospect of actually going through with it?
If you’re a hockey fan, imagine getting an invitation to skate alongside your NHL heroes. You’d be giddy with excitement, right? Especially if those NHL stars include members of the 1994 Vancouver Canucks team, a legendary squad you’ve revered so much it doesn’t matter they lost the Stanley Cup in Game Seven to the New York Rangers — that run was so glorious, so exciting, that 28 years later, it feels like we won it all.
Now imagine you’re a middle-aged goalie with stats as bloated as your beer gut, and you actually get the invitation to play a game pad-stacked with those very same 1994 Canucks legends: Kirk “The Save” McLean, Dave “The Moustache” Babych and Cliff “Cliffy” Ronning. Yes, dear reader, as you may have figured out by now, I am that lucky goalie. But when I opened that dream-come-true email, my blood ran colder than the Seymour River in January.
The generous invite was to tend the net in the 15th annual Juno Cup, a hockey game that pits “Jock vs. Rock” — ex-NHL-ers in a friendly battle with Juno-nominated musicians of the given year. It’s an annual on-ice charity event started by Blue Rodeo centreman Jim Cuddy that has morphed into the official kick-off of Juno weekend, which this year is back in Vancouver for the first time since 2009.
So why am I so freaked out about what should be a hockey dream come true? Well, for one thing, I’m an interloper. Despite semi-enjoying a long career in the music business fronting the semi-legendary Vancouver rock ‘n’ roll band the Smugglers, I am not, and have never been, a Juno-nominated musician.
And if it wasn’t obvious, you’ve probably also guessed I am not, and have never been, a NHL goaltender. For the past 16 seasons or so, I have been the goalie for the Vancouver Flying Vees beer league hockey team. At 46 years old, I am currently mired in my worst statistical season ever. Put it this way: only my opponents and the devil himself would cackle over my goals-against-average — 6.66.
For most goalies, the “butterfly” style is the most common method of making a save. My teammates refer to my style as the “wounded moth.” When a member of the other team bowls me over, my goalie equipment tends to go flying, and I get right pissed off about it, a routine my teammates refer to as an “angry yard sale.”
One time, a huge, lumbering player on the opposition knocked me flat on my back and landed right on top of me. I was about to clock him with my blocker when, face mask to face mask, he whispered sweetly, “I really like listening to you on CBC Radio.” I quickly unclenched my fist. “Oh!” I whispered back, giving him a little hug. “Thank you for listening!”
Yes, I have nervously accepted the invitation to man the pipes for the Juno Cup, since the one legitimizing factor is that I work for the CBC, the media partner proudly presenting the Junos.
Ever since, I’ve heard the warnings:
- No matter how old ex-NHL-ers get, they never lose their shot, and they shoot hard.
- They shoot so hard that a Juno Cup slap shot off an ex-NHL-er’s stick broke two ribs beneath the chest protector of Whitehorse guitarist Luke Doucet, another musician-goalie who dared to suit up for the Juno Cup.
- That Cliff Ronning treats every game, even charity events such as the Juno Cup, like it’s Game Seven in Madison Square Garden. If you get in his way, it doesn’t matter if you’re Craig McTavish or the Odds’ Craig Northey. “Cliffy” will run over you just the same.
Some of the local musicians you’ll find skating against the old pros at the Juno Cup include father-son combo Barney and Dustin Bentall, Supermoon bassist Adrienne LaBelle, fiddle sensation Kendel Carson, Odds members Doug Elliott and the aforementioned Northey, Theory’s Dean Back and pop star Shawn Hook.
Other out of town Juno-nominated musicians lacing them up include members of the Strumbellas, the Jerry Cans, the Tenors and many more. The puck drops Friday, March 23, 7:30 p.m. at the Bill Copeland Arena in Burnaby. Tickets are $20 and all proceeds go to MusiCounts, the charity of the Junos.
I’ll be wearing number 12 down at the lonely end of the rink. Whisper a prayer to the hockey gods for me, eh?
