When I was in Grade Two at Mountainview Primary School in Otterburn Park, Quebec, I began my lifelong mission as one of those annoying contrarians that you run into every so often when making small talk. It’s sunny out and you say, “Oh what a beautiful day” and I say, “I hate the sun, I can see all the dirt in my house. I only like it when it rains.” Lady Gaga comes on the radio and you say, “Oh I love Lady Gaga, she is so innovative, everything she does is magical genius,” and I will respond, “She is a twat.” When really, obviously I love the sun when I sprawl out on Hanlan’s Point with nothing but a bucket and a blanket and of course I appreciate Lady Gaga’s theatrics, particularly the one where she claims to be 24 when obviously she is 45. Good times!
So when every little kid in that tiny Quebec town was cheering for The Habs, I did not. From my brother’s hockey card collection, I discovered a Boston Bruins player named Phil Esposito and I was in love at first sight. Don’t ask me why, in retropect, I don’t get it either. Back then I thought he was the hottest thing since Dick Van Dyke (again, not sure what was going on in that tiny mind). I remember the classroom was set up with four desks pushed together, bistro-style and I was the only girl in mine. I made an announcement to the quadrant that I was a Bruins fan and they are the best team and Phil Esposito is best hockey player in the world. The three boys scoffed and told me I was a “dumb girl.” One of the boys lunged over the desks and grabbed my arm and gave me an “Indian sunburn,” that’s what we called it, don’t get on my case. He kept squeezing my wrist one way and the fat bit below the elbow the other way so hard that snot bubbles popped out of his nose. But I let him do it and sat there stoically, I didn’t wince or cry. That is where I learned to stand by my principals and not to let some stupid little dude tell me who or what to like.
It is also where I learned that hockey is a passionate sport, and picking your team isn’t always the most rational choice. So this particular Stanley Cup was more exciting for me than any other because normally don’t care so much. I watched all 7 games and tweeted on my Twitter because that is what you do these days when the tv is on. Last night during Game 7, I twattered out something quite rude about the Canucks that I thought for sure I would lose some followers. One tweeter was pissed and chirped my head off but by then I had fallen asleep and when I woke up to the news, I was elated: Bruins won 4-0! The city of Vancouver was in a riotous uproar! Rage was in the air! Suddenly my tweet didn’t seem so harsh! And I am validated! I don’t even remember who that boy was in Grade Two but all I have to say to you is : HA! I might be “just a girl” but my team won the Stanley Cup!
Karma is a slow moving bitch.