Tuesday, March 9, 2010
I have spent a fair bit of time this winter at various hockey arenas. For one reason or another, I have had the opportunity to attend a number of games at either the Junior A, Junior B, or Junior C level. For those not acquainted with Canada's Game, these are the feeder levels for the National Hockey League (NHL), North America's professional men's hockey league. Besides enjoying the exciting action on the ice, I have been treated to a cornucopia of emotions, personalities, and human dramas in the stands. I must say, I paid to see hockey games but got treated to an interesting sociological experiment every time out. Do you ever wonder why people act the way they do? We can be so passionate about something we believe in. I saw fans dressed in their team's uniform, with matching baseball-style cap, cheering loudly and wildly and with reckless abandon. I watched one husband and wife duo, people I know to be serious and straight-laced, absolutely coming unglued at a bad call made by the referee. What is it that makes people go from calm and ordinary to wild and untamed at the drop of a puck or a hip check in the corner? Yet, when the game is over, the carriage turns back into a pumpkin and life goes back to the way it was. I saw teenagers... lots of them! I got the impression that most of them attended these games to be seen and raise their social profile with the opposite sex rather then pay any real attention to the action on the ice. They seemed to have a non-verbal language that separated them from most of the crowd. Dads were there with their sons -- and daughters -- introducing them to the vast new frontier of specatator sports. I imagined some of these kids getting their first nachos and Coca-Cola at the canteen. This is a rite of passage for a young kid, let me tell you. I think the one scene that has stood out from all the rest is the man who was rooting for his team that was hopelessly behind. As he heartily cheered them on, and with equivalent gusto taunted the referees, he seemed oblivious to the jeers and unkind remarks of the partisan crowd toward him. Somehow, though, he didn't seem to mind and even relished the mocking. I felt both sad at the treatment he was receiving and impressed at how it didn't keep him from enjoying the game he loved. I wanted to run over to him and rescue him from the bully kicking sand in his face, but he was in a world all his own. He was just part of the local arena landscape. I have come away from these games with a deeper appreciation for the way that God has created us differently. Life would be so incredibly boring if we were all the same. God is not a cookie-cutter deity but the One who has made each of us uniquely in His own image. I'm glad He did it that way. All I have to do is go to a hockey game to see some of that in action.