Shocking Discovery at Pearson!

The summer has officially started out cray cray busy. Its strange, because my life used to be a very slow one filled with only the minimal amount of activities necessary to fill each day. Since graduating high school my life's activity levels have entered a period of exponential growth. I can't say I'm not happy with it it, but right now I'm quite pleased to be able to sit out here under Tobago's beautiful sun and write. It's been far, far too long. The topic of today's post is a little unorthodox for this blog and indeed, my life. It comes from my trip down here which happened to correspond with the night  of a presumably important hockey match between Boston and Toronto. That's right, today I'd like to talk about sports.

It was during the wait to begin the second leg of our journey, the long plane from Toronto to Port of Spain. The hockey game was begun, and one of the televisions in the gate was showing it. I was travelling with my parents, and they decided to sit and watch it. I was in the excellent spirits that airports and airplanes inevitably inspire in me so I was 'game for the match'. My shocking discovery was that it was really very entertaining. We came in the middle, but from my perspective of start to finish I was entertained. It wasn't so much the actual players and their actions (though they did their fair share), but a combination of the suspense in the game and the reflection in the spectators around the TV. Airports are the best places in the world for people watching, and people in an airport watching a hockey game was wonderful. Everyone took hold on the edges of their seats and sat far closer together than they ever would otherwise to see the game. My favorite part was the people walking by. The number of people who slowed down and even stopped to see who was playing and check out the score was incredible to me. A range of people from the obvious sports fans to the quietest, quaintest old ladies were slowing to scope out the game. People really cared about what was happening that night in Toronto, and that much combined interest was infectious. I cared too. I think, and hope, that we were all rooting for the Maple Leafs, because the end game sent our whole audience into an uproar of excited disappointment. I find myself now for the first time able to understand people who watch and enjoy following sports. At least, I think I can begin to understand. The grand canyon that once lay between us is perhaps now a large crevasse. Maybe if they could witness us spectating the season finale of Game of Thrones they would feel the same way. There is hope rampant on the horizon!

A few minutes later I spied a man walking along the terminal wearing a Maple Leafs jersey, and jokingly told my father how embarrassed he must feel. He then explained to me that there was no cause for embarrassment at all; he was a Leafs fan. To explain I must here delve into the breadbox of Canadian culture. According to my parents, thorough Torontonians that they are, being from Toronto requires you to support her teams, including the Maple Leafs, even and perhaps especially if they lose, which, from my understanding, we always do. Its a wonderful and old fashioned kind of tradition, don't you think? As Canadians, we really don't have much worth having, but I'm quite pleased that we have this.

So in closing, I have not submitted myself to the title of 'hockey fan', but as a Canadian, I don't think I'll be quite so dismissive or unwilling to dive into the realm of the spectator again. Go leafs, go!