Meet Monika Moravan, Part II: A Hockey-hater, the NHL Lockout, and Hockey Movies

In Part I, I introduced you to the hockey writer, editor, and researcher who served as ghostwriter for CONCUSSED! Topics included the book, violence in hockey, and of course, donuts. I now present Part II:

The Non-hockey Husband

 

MM: Yes, my spousal unit hates hockey and is not a sports fan at all. Our son, however, is normal. He's a great kid, takes it all in stride and understands some activities are Mum things, some are Dad things, and some are family things. It used to bother him much more when he was younger but closing in on 14, not so much.

It’s funny because (my husband) remembers as a kid sitting on his grandmother’s lap: His grandmother loved hockey; she emigrated from Scotland. She loved the game, would watch it every single Saturday night. And I don’t know…he grew to hate it. I never understood why and neither does he. He doesn’t like it. He doesn’t even go to our son’s hockey games, which is kind of funny. At first it was kind of annoying, but now…you do other stuff with your kids.

NHL Lockout

MM: In all honesty, I'm not sitting around lamenting the lockout. There is plenty of hockey to watch if we wish, and if not, it has freed up a significant amount of time to spend with family, friends or staring off into space thinking. It's liberating to have the option of dating my husband any night of the week!

JD: I’ve moved on. It’s like the boyfriend or girlfriend who left you and now wants you back. Not sure if I’ll be that interested in watching or going to games.

MM: Exactly. That’s what it is. If you see them on the street you’ll hopefully be polite about it… In my case I know when the NHL comes back, I’ll watch…There are the diehards, but most people are now starting to realize, ‘Okay instead of going to a game, we can spend our money to go out to the restaurant next to the rink.’ Go do that kind of stuff because there is a lot of empathy for those working the minimum wage jobs and all that. My niece, during last lockout, was a waitress in a restaurant right by Air Canada Centre. And (the lockout) really hurts those bottom lines more than anything else…

Hockey: Actors and Movies

JD: Matthew Perry.

MM: I wasn’t a big fan of Friends…I haven’t seen (GoOn).

JD: He’s a big Kings fan, and his character is a radio guy in Los Angeles…there’s one episode where he’s playing pickup shinny against Jeremy Roenick.

MM: Slap Shot was on last night, and I fell asleep.

JD: I haven’t watched that in years. I’m more of a 13 Going on 30 fan.

MM: I will always have my soft spot for Youngblood. Definitely not one of the best movies out there, but it features my baby in there (Peter Zezel, not Rob Lowe). It is a must watch.

Can/Am Relations

MM: Educating Americans about Canada is important to me. On a high school trip to Manhattan, we convinced a few that there was a housing crisis because rising temperatures were melting our igloos.

JD: You sound like a female version of Rick Mercer. I hope Canadians have stopped pummeling those poor moose with Timbits.

MM: A female Rick Mercer? Now my head's gonna asplode! Thanks; as a comedy student and (occasional) performer that is high praise indeed.

More about Can/Am relations at the Canadian Spy site.

Pittsburgh Flour Power: Peace and Love (and Little Donuts)

Saturday March 10, 2012

Pittsburgh, PA

Donuts, little ones, man. Here in the City of Bridges, feeling the love.

“Feed Your Inner Hippie,” is the catch phrase on Smallman Street, here in the Strip, the historic market district. It ain't Vegas, but it ain’t square. Far from it, you dig?

Groovy donuts (and the Bruins vs. Penguins game tomorrow) have prompted a ten-hour road trip from Milltown (Maynard, MA) to Pittsburgh.

It’s a Steel Town Saturday morning, and the line in the hole-in-the-wall donut shop just off 21st Street is short. Cool.

A cat in a dark pullover accepts the plain ringlets, fresh off the production line, while his female colleagues—one wearing a hoodie with colorful hearts, the other in a funky pullover promoting the shop's peaceful slogan—toil for the man.

"I can guarantee you," the hipster says, “You’re going to like them.”

The first two, a glazed and a sugar-sprinkled, are on the house. Far out, man.

But we can’t eat them yet. Photoshoot material.

Hepcat decorates the other donuts with funky toppings: chocolate chip cookie dough; chocolate, caramel and coconut—a la the cookie the Girl Scouts call a Samoa; raspberry lemonade frosting; maple frosting and bacon chunks.

The donuts, like hippies during a sit-in, occupy two plastic containers. The Photographer and I take them outside. Takin’ the treats to streets, man.

In see-your-breath cold, my wife places different donuts on a parking meter as bemused Pittsburghers nod and smile their approval.

“I like it,” says one dude.

“I’m gonna have to sacrifice the Samoa,” the Photographer says. But then she changes her mind, doesn’t want to place the little donut, its surface sticky and inviting, on the steely counter of the behemoth patio heater on sidewalk.

Picture this: I devour the sugar-sprinkled freebie. Crispy and sweet, man.

We carry the rest of them, now contraband, to the 21st Street Coffee and Tea shop next door. Upstairs, empty coffee bean sacks from Latin America, like the one promoting the Zenda Vista Alegre brand, adorn the walls.

I enjoy a café mocha and the serene scene, visible via the long rectangular window: Unencumbered blue sky above; straight ahead and across Smallman Street, the brick and mortar Pennsylvania Railroad Fruit Auction & Sales Building; and to the right and across 21st Street, Saint Stanislaus Kostka (the patron saint of youth) Church, its majestic brick bracketing the twenty-two foot diameter window.

We share, in true hippie spirit but without the bell bottoms, the already sample-sized donuts. The Photographer savors the first half of the French Toast Strawberry.

“It does taste like French toast,” she says. “I was a little skeptical.”

It’s flavor is, like, sublime as the bells from the Polish church chime, signaling the time: 10:30. I’m diggin’ the vibe. But I need another donut.

Time to split.

Back at Peace, Love & Little Donuts, I get my fix.

Sweet little donut friend of mine, topped with banana and chocolate chips. Oh man, so tasty you are. Better than the rest. Best of the bunch.

Peace out, my flour children.

Commemorating Cooperation and Compassion: 9/11 and Beyond

As the U.S. honours loved ones lost on this date ten years ago, I keep close to my heart heroes on both sides of the 49th Parallel.

An except from AMHL Glory:

Presidents and prime ministers will come and go, so I’m talking about the residual, ordinary citizens in the U.S. and Canada who’ve done extraordinary things to extend goodwill beyond geographical borders.

Read the entire posting at the Canadian Spy site.

Hockey in the Desert: "Bahrain Bill" Strikes Again, Part I

Guest blogger “Bahrain Bill” VanderClock (pictured), who filed his first report from the desert in 2006 , shares another story (with minor edits).

Bahrain
November 2008

The outside temperature is only in the 80s, so skating in the desert isn’t as cooling an experience as in September, when the outside temperature hovers around 110. The rink, which is attached to a bowling alley (with windows in between), is about half the size of a regulation rink. Half the players are local guys and can they skate! And because the ice does not evenly butt up against the boards—the corners are like ditches—stickhandling skills are a must.

One of the goalies is a high school aged kid who pays about $20.00 each way for a taxi to get to the rink. He really wants to learn and play. The other goalie is an American woman from the U.S. Navy base. This mix of people, the unique location, and the rink size: they make the game even more interesting. Then a Saudi, who has never seen an ice rink before, enters the building. He insists on having his picture taken with me and has to try on a helmet. He looks comical in his thobe (a white shirt-dress worn by most of the men in Saudi Arabia and Bahrain) and helmet.

After hockey and then the photo shoot, we all go to an Irish bar.

Everything is great until the hotels in (Mumbai) India are attacked. I’m living in a five-star hotel and although there isn’t a problem in the Middle East, India is close enough that I keep my head down for a few days.

Three days later, as the Indian situation is calming down, security suddenly shows up at my hotel. I notice that there are guards at every vehicle entrance to my hotel. They use mirrors on sticks to examine the underside of every vehicle driving up to my hotel. And they open every trunk. I wonder what’s going on, so I ask personnel at the front desk.

“Nothing.”

Clearly something is happening, and they’ve been told not to talk about it. When I get up to my floor, six security guards—three from the hotel and three that I had never seen before—are discussing, loudly, something. I ask what’s going on.

“Nothing.”

I point out that I’ve not seen a single security person on my floor prior to this and now there are six, so something is the matter. Well, fortunately I have always made a habit of spending some time with the maids, janitors and other workers who generally get ignored by the folks who stay in five-star hotels. I’ve found that these folks are great sources of information and a little time spent really talking to them can go a long, long way. In this case I get the inside scoop that all of the hotel employees have been warned not to talk.

But it turns out that a dignitary is moving in three doors down from me and will be here for a few days. There has been no threat against the hotel or anything. But the poor security guy sitting on a chair doesn’t appear to be enthused about the situation. Every time I walk by, someone is in the chair. I start saying hello and offer the sentries a Coke or whatever. All I get is a polite “no thanks” but they get to know me, which helps out on Hockey Night in Bahrain.

Stay tuned for Part II.

AMHL Thursday: Going for the Gold

(Image courtesy of Tom M. at flickr.com)

My gold medal from Lake Placid hangs from the key rack to my right. The Miracle movie poster is on the wall to my left. I’m dressed in full hockey gear (except for my helmet and skates) and pull open the door.

The play-offs don’t start until next week, but like athletes at the 2008 Beijing Olympic Games, I’m going for the gold this morning.

We, the Panthers, have lost four straight, including a 2–10 drubbing by the Capitals four weeks ago. But this morning, with the world taking a break from watching those other games in China to tune into AMHL-TV, we’re hammering those same Caps. We lead 5–3 after the first period.

In the second period, skating left to right across your AMHL imagination, we keep driving toward the net. My smooth-skating and high-scoring teammate Tom “Badah Bing” Barrett skates into the Caps’ zone. At the far circle, he controls the puck and skirts a Cap defenseman. Barrett skates across the crease and then pushes the puck past the sprawled goalie. Badah Boom!

The Italian judge awards Barrett a 9.75.

Later in the second period, Eric “Danke” Schoen controls a perfect pass from Dave “Mr. Hockey” Losier. Below the near circle, Schoenie strides across the crease. He falls forward but still manages to slip the puck past the netminder.

The German judge raises his scorecard for the TV audience: 9.6.

In the third period, it’s my turn to shine. Inside the Caps’ blue line I’m unguarded, waiting for a pass. As the puck approaches, I lose my balance, as if the ice between my skates has cracked to reveal an ocean. The puck slips past me as my arms flap like windmill blades and my legs wobble like I’m on a surfboard.

To my immediate left, the Capitals on the bench are laughing. So is the supposedly neutral official. I’m okay, thanks boys.

And the Caps don’t take advantage of my mistake.

I have a chance to redeem myself. Our forwards backcheck deep into our zone and create a turnover. I’m the high man in our zone, so I fill the void created by our defensively responsible left wing and join Losier on a two-on-one. Losier skates the puck up the right wing and over the Caps’ blue line, waiting for me to catch up. He dishes a puck to the where I’m headed. Below the near circle, I cradle the puck. A right-handed shooter, I have a good angle, so I hoist the puck high glove side. Not high enough, though.

But we still win. And after the game, Cap forward Peter Kokas tells me the Russian judge gave me a 9.5 for my windmill act.

No gold, but winning the bronze still places me on the podium with Barrett and Schoen.

AMHL Thursday: Going Green

Image courtesy of Fernando at Flickr.com

Thursday, May 1st, 2008

The AMHL Photographer and I share a small SUV. It’s the least we can do to make our planet greener. She drives us to Concord Valley Sports while I contemplate—between conversations—my first round play-off game against the Bruins.

Avalanche teammates, greenhorns Scott Kessler (2g, 1a) and Tom Hargrave (3g, 1a) (Hey rooks, update your profile pages) lead us to the Koffey Cup Finals. A 9–3 victory over the Bruins pits us against next week’s opponent, the Capitals. The Caps have defeated Chris Howell’s Panthers, 5–1.

Howell is my chauffeur this week, but he’s over the loss. Still in the parking lot, Howell tells me it’s Kermit the Frog month.

What?

He reminds me of the calendar my wife designed, produced, and then gave to a select few kindred spirits like me and the AMHL’s original director or donut procurement. May’s picture, which I’ll see again when I get to work, is of a svelte felt bendable amphibian: Kermit is chumming up to a Dunkin’ Donuts Blueberry, his right elbow resting upon the glazed prize (Mike Schneider’s favorite).

Howell says he is afraid to ask why I own a Kermit doll.

Kermie and I are tight, so I sing in a voice that my family has told me sounds exactly like my favorite Muppet. “Piggy, Piggy, Piggy, can’t you see? “Can’t you see the way you hypnotize me?”
Chris is alarmed but still laughs as he exits the parking lot. National Public Radio’s broadcast—Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton are ready to drop the gloves—prompts a change of topic.

Howell and I talk politics. Gas prices and energy conservation efforts: Is going green as simple as supply and demand? We engage in a lively discussion and by drive’s end, we’re ready to tackle, together, our nation’s problems.

“Do you want president or vice president?” I ask him as I exit his pick-up truck.

Chris doesn’t want to work, so he’d take the vice-presidency.

Uh-oh! If there’s a crisis on a Thursday morning, say between 6:00 and 8:30 a.m., I’ll be too busy with hockey. Kermit the Frog may as well be your president.

Special Report: Energy on Ice

December 2, 2007

Raymond Bourque, Valeri Kamensky, and Igor Larionov: these names are engraved on the Stanley Cup that greets hockey fans here at The Edge Sports Center in Bedford, Massachusetts.

The talented triumvirate and a host of other prominent players are here tonight at the brand new arena to raise awareness for Hockey Fights Cancer, USA Hockey, Toys for Tots, and Colonel Daniel Marr Boys & Girls Foundation. The contingent of North American and Russian players is here to foster friendship and bolster business relationships, too. And they’re here because they still love to play hard; they still crave competition, especially when a Cup is on the line. Not that cherished chalice in the lobby but rather the AspenTech Cup.

Never heard of it? A little background while the standing-room-only crowd watches the Zamboni work its magic and the players put on their game faces.

Bourque will wear green and gold for Aspen Technology, a company that helps process manufacturers transform the way they design and run their operations. His teammates include former Bruins Don Sweeney, Ted Crowley and Marty McInnis; joining them are Bob Sweeney and Scott Young, who both once called Valley Sports Arena in nearby Concord their home ice. Also eager to play for the AspenTech All-Stars are Harvard’s Hobey Baker winners: Lane MacDonald and the Fusco brothers, Mark (now CEO at Aspen Technology) and Scott (now General Manager of The Edge Sports Arena) are hoping to do Harvard—and North America—proud.

Kamensky will sport a blue sweater with and edgy design for Gazprom Export, the world’s leading exporter of natural gas. His comrades include Sergei Starikov, Ravil Yakubov, and Maxim Mikhaylovskiy. All played in the NHL and/or in the minors as well as in their native Russia. Add to mix former Spartak players, such as head coach and defenseman Sergey Makarov and right wing Evgeny Chizhmin, who averaged just shy of a point per game last season with Team Gazprom.

And Larionov?

Team AspenTech acquired his rights when the stalwart center, born forty-seven years ago tomorrow, decided to work for Aspen Technology.

How does it feel to play for the Green and Gold?

“Feels good, actually,” Larionov says, smiling as he exits the locker room for the pre-game skate.

“At least give us someone who can pass,” jokes a new teammate.

Larionov, who won three Stanley Cups with the Detroit Red Wings and posted 475 career assists, is an adroit passer. But he’s not amused as the first period closes. The scoreboard shows :46.7 when Kamensky scores on former Rensselear Polytechnic Institute goalie Bobby Farrelly. (Yep, flick fans, the director of Dumb and Dumber, Fever Pitch, and The Heartbreak Kid is no ringer, but he’s no slouch either.) Kamensky’s wrist shot from the far circle is the only one to beat Number 00, and it prompts the sound system’s operator to play the Baha Men’s “Who Let the Dogs Out.”

Farrelly’s counterpart, Mikhaylovskiy, meanwhile, has closed the door on would-be scorers.

Referee Paul Stewart assesses the first period, “You can see the level of play, even with some rust. It’s important for kids to see how good these guys are…the prime thing is that they can all skate, shoot quick…the puck never gets tired.”

When Chizhmin scores on a two-on-one two minutes into the second period, Gazprom lengthens the lead to 2–0.

More music, this time a classical piece by John Williams.

“Hey, Star Wars!” a kid recognizes the score from a movie first released three decades ago.

AspenTech continues to battle, scoring at 6:59 to cut the deficit, but Igor Romashin counters for Gazprom. Bobby Carpenter scores on a wrist shot from the point but then Chizhimin scores on a penalty shot with less than two minutes remaining in the second period to stake Gazprom to a 4–2 lead.

“(Those) boys can move,” comments one fan to another between periods.

The third period provides the crowd more fervent action. Gazprom’s empty-net goal secures a 5–3 victory but also may bolster the AspenTech All-Stars’ commitment to practice more often; chances are they’ll face Team Gazprom here again next year.

“We hope that this will be an annual event,” Scott Fusco comments via e-mail. He adds, “I think Gazprom won because they play together three times per week and have an extensive game schedule together whereas we play probably once per week in separate pickup situations. This makes it tough to finish as we should.”

Even so, you can bet your last dollar (or ruble) on this: The next time they play, Bourque, Kamensky, Larionov, and company will provide fans lots of energy on ice.

Week in Review: Remember Them

This piece is dedicated to those who’ve ever put themselves in peril for the Land of the Free, for those who stand on guard for the True North Strong and Free, and for their families.

(image courtesy of bishopcanevin at flickr.com)

Monday, I went about my routine at work, mostly oblivious to the war in Iraq, not realizing how blessed I was able to read and write about hockey, a game Kirk Luedeke will hopefully get to blog about again at the New England Hockey Journal.

Wednesday, I wasn’t thinking about the men and women who’ve risked life and limb as my friend Bill VanderClock skated toward the far boards to collect a loose puck. I wasn’t conscious of soldiers struggling to survive as I admired Bill’s agility in turning back toward me to slide a pass to an undefended teammate, who pushed the puck past the goalie.

Thursday morning, while troops toiled against the Taliban, I “battled” with Dave Losier in front of the crease.

Friday night, as the Boston Bruins tangled with the Buffalo Sabres, Bruins Head Coach Claude Julien wore a poppy on his lapel to honor the more than 100,000 Canadians who’ve died serving their country, like Nathan Hornburg, who loved to play hockey—but not as much as he loved his country.

And just yesterday morning, I blocked a shot during pick-up hockey, something Ryan Kovacicek will never do again. The bruise I’ll have tomorrow morning will hopefully help me remember the wounds—emotional, physical, and spiritual—suffered by real warriors like “Kov,” many whom I’ll never get a chance to thank in person.

Update, 11/17/07

Lest we forget Canadians who are still fighting in Afghanistan, like "Taz," a Bruins fan from Nova Scotia.