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Winning Spirit

By Laurie Ewen  

In the world of minor sports, ringette isn’t even worthy of a mention in most city newspapers. The general sentiment seems to be that the real ice sport is hockey, and if girls were serious enough or talented enough, they would join hockey teams.

This daunts the spunky ringette players not a bit as they skate, pass and score with a finesse and drive that matches anything the boys can do.

Every January Calgary hosts the Esso Golden Ring, a tournament held in much esteem and the subject of great enthusiasm and excitement. Watching one of the playoff games last year, I found myself deeply touched by the drama I saw unfolding. My daughter’s team was strong and had already secured a spot in the gold medal competition the next day. The team was tired, and everyone knew that the game they played that day would not have an impact on their chance to win the tournament. The opponents were definitely the underdogs; having won only one game and tied another all season, they were accustomed to defeat. Their goalie was new at her position and, although she was trying her best, it showed.

As the game progressed an interesting scenario developed. Our team, fatigued and disinterested, let in a few goals, and the opposing girls, thrilled with scoring on one of the better teams, caught fire. They weaved, they bobbed. They passed, checked and scored like a team of professionals, every goal inciting more energy among them. Their parents responded with a display of boundless enthusiasm, doing the wave, chanting slogans, yelling encouragement and punching each other in the shoulders. One father fell down on his knees, arms raised, and yelled out, “It’s a Disney movie!”

Toward the end of the second period, not one fan was still sitting in the seats; the emotion was too intense. My daughter’s team woke up just in time to realize they might indeed lose the game and, rallying quickly, scored two goals to tie and then win. I felt devastated that the team that had worked so hard had lost, but looking over the ice, I saw they didn’t feel as though they were the losers at all.

The two women coaches jumped up and down hugging each other while the players piled on top of one another as though they had won the Stanley Cup. Three players got behind the little goalie and pushed her around the ice in honour of their near victory as she waved her goalie glove queenlike to her adoring audience. The parents screamed their support and excitement as one mom yelled down, “I’m taking everyone to the Dairy Queen.” Our team smiled bemusedly as the other girls enthusiastically shook their hands with comments of “You’re our favourite team” and “We’ll be cheering for you in the Golden Ring tomorrow.” My throat felt thick with emotion as I watched how much it meant for them to almost beat a good team.

When I think of that game, I wish there could have been a few NHL players in the audience so they could remember what it used to be about: not personal income but personal best; that the meaning of sportsmanship is teamwork and honouring your teammates for their effort and commitment, and respecting your opponents for theirs; and to stand behind your goalie not because she won the game but because, against insurmountable odds, she never gave up and tried her best until the end.

You can have your upholstered seats, cold beer and designer coffee at the NHL games. I would rather spend my time on cold benches with coffee from a vending machine watching a game in which everyone goes home feeling like a winner.
   
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