Like most in this country, I watched the final game at dawn with family, in my case, a crowd of real hockey fans, ages 3 to 82.
When it was over, we planned to head home but heard honking. Down the windows went. I leaned on the horn. Unlike the last gold medal victory, there were no spontaneous eruptions at intersections going south but just sporadic outbursts.The girls hollered at any sign of a flag. A few high fives into the open window and some upturned fists but it was looking to be a wash out.We almost turned around but then heard the swell near Yonge and Dundas, found a place to park and ran out to join the crowd.
No drunken stupors on evidence but swaying sorts, yes and a few familiar fumes.
We missed Peter terribly here as my whooping cohorts draw their own kind of fans (!) but hopefully he celebrated on the Liberal convention floor in Montreal.
Were these rowdies all celebrating the gold?
Some were yelling Fuck Ikea and we left to a chorus of Go Leafs Go ( hope is contagious) but mostly, it is just an excuse to say “I’m happy I live here. It’s a pretty cool country.”
Sport offers us that outlet to cheer for something beyond ourselves and our winter funks.
You can buy in or out but shouting your national anthem at top volume in a sea of flags never gets old, even if you do.
It’s a good day to be Canadian.