I don't need the NHL

Oct. 11, 2012.

In the future, I expect to look back at this date as the moment I finally stopped caring about the NHL.

Today, the NHL regular season was supposed to start. Eight teams were supposed to hit the ice to kick off another year.

But, alas, hockey fans such as myself are left with nothing after NHL commissioner Gary Bettman and the 29 NHL owners (remember, the Phoenix Coyotes are still owned by the league) chose to lock the players out when the collective bargaining agreement expired. Rather than continuing to negotiate and let the season carry on under the old CBA, this small group chose to shut the league down.

At first, there was talk the lockout would be brief. There might be pre-season games lost, but in the end, no one really cares about the pre-season.

But as the start of the regular season approached, fans started having flashbacks to 2004. As the lockout approaches the month-long mark, it seems as though we won't be seeing any NHL hockey this year. And you know what? I'm OK with that.

I may change my tune in November or December, but for now, I'm OK with no hockey. I can watch MLB playoffs, I can watch the NFL. In two weeks, the NBA will open its regular season. Plenty of sports on TV to watch.

Beyond sports, I can read, I can play video games (about the only way I know of to get the Maple Leafs to hoist the Stanley Cup) or any number of other things. There's lots to do.

So, Mr. Bettman, Mr. Fehr. I don't need your league. And the longer you stay away this time, the more people you will discover who feel just like I do.

On writing endings...

Frustrating novelist, thy name is Stephen King.

The master of the macabre, one of the most prolific writers of the last (insert crazy length of time here), has written some classic works of fiction.They may not be Shakespeare or Mark Twain or Tolkien, but there's no denying they're popular and considered must-reads by many.

So why is it he seems to struggle with endings?

I spent about a year and a half reading his masterwork, the Dark Tower saga. Seven books, a few thousand pages. And I got to the end and couldn't believe my eyes. It was just like a punch to the gut. I was shocked that after I had spent a year and a half reading these seven books that I would be left with what I discovered on the last page. (Note: don't think this means I'm discouraging you from reading the books. On the contrary, they should be must-reads for anyone who enjoyed The Lord of the Rings trilogy, or any other fantasy stories.)

(Image created by Michael Whalen) http://www.darktowercompendium.com/fottergrafs-dt7.html

Just last week, I finally finished the uncut version of The Stand, considered by some to be King's best work. Again, an engrossing tale, although it did take me a little while to get into the story.

But again, I got to the end and found it wanting.

I'm not going to spoil the details of either story, but suffice it to say, the endings could have used some work.

In his defence (for now, anyway), these are the only two Stephen King books I've read. But it makes me nervous as I delve into some of his other work. And I plan to read a number of his books as I explore the connections between The Dark Tower series and other books (Salem's Lot, The Stand, etc.).

I don't limit my criticism to King, either. I read Stieg Larsson's trilogy – The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, etc. – and loved it. But the ending of the final book was a little rushed and went out with a whimper rather than a bang. Does this mean the time I spent reading the three books was wasted? Not at all, but I would have appreciated a little more of a payoff in the end.

Perhaps my disappointment is the result of watching so many movies/TV in my life. I've grown to expect a certain concreteness to an ending. Obviously, there will be times when an 'ending' leaves room for a return to the universe (See X-men: The Last Stand for an example) and that's fine. If a film makes hundreds of millions of dollars, it will almost always spawn at least one sequel.

But I feel I, as a reader, deserve more after investing hours and hours in a hefty tome. Am I on the fringe with this opinion? Should I simply accept that sometimes a story has a *blah* ending?

Perhaps I should, but I still prefer closure from a story.

Stephen King's official website

The Dark Tower official website

Talking to the strange

My day job as a reporter often requires me to deal with irate people.
Sometimes they're upset with me, although not very often.
Usually, they're upset about some perceived injustice done upon them or someone they know. Sometimes the injustice is a real one, other times it's been exaggerated by the caller.
In the latter case, I'm understanding. Who hasn't been in a situation where a problem arises and it seems worse than it actually is.
Every now and then, however, I'm required to deal with someone's rant.
So how do I separate the story from the fact I can't take this person seriously? Or the fact that I find what they're saying offensive?
It's a dilemma I don't have to deal with very often, but it does come up from time to time.
When it does, I suppose the toughest thing to remember is that I'm not engaging this person in a debate or an argument. I'm simply listening, writing down what they're saying and throwing out a question now and then for clarification (and to let them know I'm still listening.)
But when it comes time to write a story based on such an interview, it becomes difficult. It's like separating the wheat from the chaff. I have to pick out the ideas that follow the story and put them together into something coherent.
Beyond that, I also have to worry about the possibility of a lawsuit. I mean, I can't just print something because I want to. It has to be true.
So I have to listen to people who tell me someone is conspiring against them, nod politely, and keep thinking to myself that I'll get myself a coffee as a reward for suffering through the insanity.

Fulfill the dream

Author's note: This is based on a personal dream involving my favourite hockey team, the Toronto Maple Leafs. I decided against using the actual name of the team in case I ever turn this into something more.

Chris couldn't explain why he was an Aces fan. Friends asked him all the time, and all he could say was that he'd never known anything else.
What made his choice of teams unusual was the fact they were atrocious, had been so since long before Chris was born, and looked as though they would be for the foreseeable future.
"Why did you pick such a crappy team?" was the question he had to answer at least once a week.
His response was often something like "My grandfather's been a fan all his life and he got me interested."
Always because of Grampy, who actually remembered the last time the team won the championship.
But Chris really had different thoughts when it came to his favourite team.
Some day I'm going to own that team. Someday I'm going to give this city a winner.
Chris was nothing if not a dreamer. He'd had this notion in his head since he was a little boy. He would run that team.
He'd hear people say they could run the team better than the clowns in charge, but they were usually just blowing off steam following another loss by the sad-sack group.
Chris would be the first to admit he was as guilty of the bellyaching as the next fan, but he was the only armchair coach/owner who had a plan to actually run the team.
Luck would certainly play a part in his plan, but then, when doesn't it?
But this would require something more. It would need ambition, hard work and the willingness to give up other things in order to achieve the goal.
Despite the complexity of achieving it, his goal was simple.
Chris was going to become the owner of the Aces, and bring a championship banner to his beloved team, the first in nearly half a century.
He kept it to himself to avoid the ridicule that was sure to accompany such a bold statement. But he knew he could do it. He knew he could bring an end to the ineptitude that had plagued his favourite team for so long.
He just needed to work out how.

Choke: A Hockey Story

I have witnessed one of the worst choke-jobs in sports history. The Canadian team at the 2011 World Junior Championships blew a 3-0 lead after two periods and lost 5-3 in the gold medal game to Russia.

Now, obviously receiving a medal at an event like this is an extraordinary accomplishment. And Canada does it year after year.

But this team LOST the gold medal. I refuse to celebrate a second-place finish in a team sport. Silver in team sports means you lost the final. End of story.

This team dominated 40 minutes of play, then got cocky, sat back, and the Russians made them pay dearly. The winning team took nothing for granted.

What makes that even more astounding is the fact Canada was considered an underdog entering this tournament. The USA was the pre-tournament favourite to defend their title. Canada beat them in the semifinals, but they blew it when it really mattered.

I'd rather play for a bronze, at least then you've won something. Team Canada gets a silver because they blew it. It's like awarding abject failure.

Maybe I've been too harsh because the loss is so fresh in my mind (I'm watching the medals being handed out as I write this), but this is still our game. And now it's two years running we've lost the gold.

I think another problem, at least from my perspective, is the memory of Sidney Crosby's golden goal in Vancouver is still very fresh in my mind. That was one of the greatest moments in Canadian sports history and it still brings a smile to face when I watch a replay. That team brought a country together.

This team just pissed off 30 million people because they choked.

This team became arrogant. And because of that, they missed an opportunity to bring home a gold medal.

A knock and strange triangles

"What does this have to do with me?" I asked.
That's the question I find myself asking when these conspiracy theorists bring me there wild ideas about some lost artifact that they claim will change our world forever.
"This is what I get for opening the door," I thought.
It's a mistake I make all the time. Every time someone comes calling at my office door I can't resist. I can't take the chance that this time it might be something worthwhile.
But every time, I'm disappointed, and sometimes mildly irritated that these people waste my time with their ridiculous ideas.
Like the guy who came in a few months ago, claiming he had information that would lead to a secret energy source that would solve the problem of the world's dwindling oil reserves.
I looked at him and told him he was the third person in a week to come to me with that idea. I admit, I lied to him. He was actually the sixth, but I wanted to spare his feelings a little.
But this time, for the first time in months, I was intrigued, even if only slightly.
"Look, this could fundamentally change the way we look at our world," the visitor said.
"I'm sure it could, but you haven't answered my question. I still want to know what this has to do with me."
The visitor paused and looked at the paper he'd been explaining to me. It was worn and faded, but I could still make out the image of a stylized triangle.
I took a closer look at the faded image. There was something familiar about it.
"I'll be damned," I whispered. "That's impossible."
The visitor sat down across from me, smiling.
"I told you it would be worth your while."
He was right. When I looked at that image, I saw something I thought I'd never see outside my parents' notebooks. I thought it was just something they'd doodled over and over, the same way I drew little trees when I was lost in thought.
But this, this was different. As far as I knew, this design had been exclusive to my parents imaginations and their doodles.
"You need to tell me where you found this. Right now."
"Perhaps a drink is in order? We've got a lot to talk about," my visitor said.
For once, I was glad I'd answered the knock at my door.

Legalized Insanity

Robin Williams has made a career of stream-of-consciousness comedy. He just picks up on an idea, starts riffing and an hour later ends somewhere totally different. Listen to his 1986 performance at the Metropolitan Opera House in New York City, or his Live on Broadway performance in 2002.

Or this clip from his appearance on Inside the Actor's Studio.



He just starts with a simple thing and continues to riff throughout the interview. It's such a natural thing.

I'm a big fan of Williams and his comedy. I'm sure he works hard to put together his performances, but he also has a knack for improvisation, and the rapid-fire delivery has always amazed me.

I'm not on his level, and likely never will be. But it's an inspiration to me.

Tomorrow, I'm going to write something. I don't have any idea what it will be, but I'm just going to sit down and write for half an hour and see what I come up with.

Check back here to see what I come up with.