A Little Perspective

Just under two months ago I was back-tracking my route in California. I had travelled south to north but when I learnt that my hometown NHL Team, The Winnipeg Jets, were going to be playing a series against all the California teams I knew what I had to do. You see, at this point, I had been driving around the continent for eight months with my Jets jersey folded, tucked away at the bottom of my suitcase. I packed it back in August because I was almost certain that I would have to be somewhere that The Jets were playing while I was travelling. And it would be a heck of a lot easier to get tickets anywhere outside of Winnipeg.

For eight months, I would run into these fun little scenarios where The Jets would be playing Nashville while I was in Nashville! Except for the fact that the game was happening in Winnipeg. Or, that The Jets would be playing Chicago while I was in St. Louis. It seemed to happen over, and over again. They were a few states over or in the state I just left. So, when I discovered, after eight long and hopeful months that we would both be in the same state at the same time the answer was clear: it was time to treat myself to an early birthday present. I had my pick. The Jets would be playing San Jose, LA, and Anaheim. I could go to any of the games. Whichever I preferred. And, as any true life-long Jets fan would do, I packed up and left San Francisco. I was headed for Anaheim.

I remember being five or six and seeing Teemu Selanne play back in Winnipeg. It was incredible. So, when the Ducks first took the ice for warm up and I saw number eight fly across the ice I knew, without a doubt, that I had made the right choice. Now I could go on and on and on for days about how incredible the game was. How awesome my seat was. How it cost me probably a sixth of what that same seat would have cost me in Winnipeg. I can talk about how there were probably more Winnipeg Jets fans in the crowd than Ducks fans. But instead, I want to tell you a little story - as if that's not what I'm already doing.

You see, there came a point in the game - it was probably during the third period, when it came time to honour the men and women that serve in the armed forces - the military, the army, the navy, etc. The announcer introduced a man as being a veteran and as the game paused momentarily, and the girls that clean the excess snow off the ice during commercial breaks made their way up and down the ice something particularly special happened. 

When we think of heroes, we tend to think of sports stars, athletes: the Ryan Getzlafs, the Teemu Selannes, the Andrew Ladds and Jacob Troubas. The ones whose faces we plaster all over our bedroom walls as kids. The ones who's names we bear across our backs on a jersey that cost two pay cheques to buy. But in that very moment that the entire arena had paused, and risen to applaud this war veteran for his service, those very same people that we consider heroes transformed into normal people. There was not a player on the ice that wasn't on his feet, clapping along and banging their stick against the boards to show support, appreciation, and respect to this veteran. Recognizing the true hero on the ice is what made that game particularly special to me.

I think it's important that we all keep in mind one thing: there are people in this world that deserve our respect. And there are people in this world that we respect, undeservedly (not necessarily speaking in regards to sports). Let's try not to confuse the two.