Brother Broken


Foreword Clarion Review 

Alf Reads about Hockey Night in Canada...

Saturdays were packed with the usual order of events. It was bath day, and we took turns griming up the bathwater for the next kid in line. Mom washed and waxed floors, and we stayed out of the way until she was done. We watched Bugs Bunny while she cooked chop suey or baked beans for supper. Dad tended to his tasks early in order to free up his evening. The whole day felt like we were preparing for something important.

“Is that Mahovlich gonna give our team a hard run this year?” Talk around the supper table would naturally turn to hockey.

“They should sic the Pocket Rocket on ’em.”

“To do what? Bite him on the kneecap?”

“He’s tough for his size. Don’t be surprised.”

A kid would interrupt the discussion with a question: “Kin I have s’more beans?”

“Put some beans on Mitchy’s plate there.”

They opined about the new guy, Yvan Cournoyer. Perhaps he was the ticket to getting the team into the playoffs. The fans were somewhat divided on the topic. The season was only about halfway done.

“Think Montréal can take the Cup this year?”

“If they can slow down Keon and keep giving Bélliveau the puck . . . maybe. Leafs are pretty cocky with the last two Cups under their belt.”

“I just like watching Eddie Shack play.”

“Whose turn to help with dishes?”

“Not me!”

Once cleanup was done, all the sports fans moved to the living room to watch the game. Mitch and I got the run of the kitchen. We lined up chairs and draped blankets over top. We occupied inside the tent-fort while the hockey game on TV engaged the rest of our family. Sometimes, during a hockey game, we heard shrieks and cheers coming from the living room. The commotion tapped our curiosity and sometimes pulled us in. We watched as a scoring frenzy erupted or a particularly nasty fight broke out. We were careful not to get caught up in all the hype. Watching hockey was addictive, and we could easily get hooked.

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