Thursday, June 16, 2011
Tonight I Cried
While the illustrious and talented Barbara Brown and I have been working on our interview, I got interrupted by this hockey thing that's been going on.
I'm not a big hockey fan, but when it gets to the playoffs for Lord Stanley's cup I do watch.
It's been difficult. Our men played well and with skill. Boston? Well, they played like thugs, and the refs ruled like they'd been paid.
I'm not saying that they were -- I have no inside knowledge -- that's just what it looked like from the cheap seats here at home.
One of our boys hit one of the Boston lads, in a hard check. He hit the ice, got a concussion and the person who hit him got a four game suspension, thus taking him out of the rest of the playoffs.
Then in clear retaliation, one of the Boston boys grabbed one of our players and performed what's known as a "can opener". He stuck his stick between the other player's legs (no, not up there, you perverts), twirled him around, shoved his shoulders down and rammed him hard, backwards, into the boards.
I've seldom seen anything uglier or more vindictive. Our player sustained a spinal compression fracture. He'll be out for about six months.
And that's if he ever recovers the health or the guts to play again. I know I wouldn't after something like that.
The player who did that? He didn't even get a whistle. Not the tiniest reprimand. Not a ten minute time-out.
If he'd shoved our player any harder he would likely have killed him.
So ... hard and fair check? Out for four games. Attempted murder? Oh you're fine, just go play.
(Again, the charge of attempted murder is just my opinion. I calls them like I sees them.)
After that, the fire pretty well went out for the Canucks. We phoned it in for the last game. I had been convinced that we'd own the last one on home ice but really? We sucked. And we lost.
But the important thing is what happened after.
After the game, Vancouver apparently took to the streets. And trashed them.
There were cars turned over and set alight, store windows broken, a couple of stabbings, a couple of police cars set alight, looting, tear gas, rubber bullets, police dogs ...
It was like we were in LA or something.
And I was ashamed.
There was a Boston fan who was beaten and left lying on the sidewalk bleeding from serious head wounds. Just for wearing the wrong jersey.
HELLO? What in the purple screaming fuck was that? This is Vancouver! We are granola and birkenstocks and singing kumbaya ... we're not about beating people for wearing the wrong shirt.
I was embarrased and horrified.
And then as I was reading about this and feeling horrible, I saw several friends joining a group on Facebook.
While the cars were still burning, they had over seven thousand people standing by to go clean up. For nothing, just as soon as the police would let them into the city.
And then ... that is when I cried. THAT is the Vancouver that I love. The people who give for no reason except that it's the right thing to do. The people who clean up because we don't want crap all over the place.
The people who stand strong and say "we care".
So ... to the people who trashed my city and made me fear for my husband's life (he had to drive through that to get to work) I say ... fuck you.
And to everyone else here in Vancouver. The real people. The people who love and nurture this community -- thank you.
Gentlepersons -- start up your Birkenstocks.
Sunday, June 05, 2011
A Little Birdie Tells Me
That in amongst my story about the incredible disaster that was STITCHES West (not their fault ... or at least the few things that went wrong there didn't add much to the disaster) that there will be an interview coming up very soon right here on this blog with the astonishing designer Barbara Brown.
Might could be this week, if I can get her to answer my chat on Facebook ... stay tuned.