Hockey playoffs take over our lives

It is playoff time and Canadians tend to get pretty serious about hockey this time of year.

Francesco Aquilini is one of the owners of the Vancouver Canucks. Unfortunately, he and his wife have entered divorce proceedings, but they took time from the dissolution of their marriage to assure Canuck fans that the proceedings would not adversely affect the Canucks.

Should we have been concerned that each one was going to get custody of a Sedin, breaking up the set, moving them to different cities? Probably not, but it is playoff time and Canadians tend to get pretty serious about hockey this time of year.

My online writers group gives us a challenge each month to keep our minds sharp. Last month, I had to write a story using the phrase, “What is that hovering above the garden shed?”   With the playoffs in mind, here is what I came up with.

Let me explain. It was a Saturday night about 9:15. I know that because Hockey Night in Canada was on and the third period was about to start. It was the first round of the playoffs and the Canucks were playing like jerks and we were down 3-1 in this game.

It was dark but clear, and the moon dimly lit the backyard. The missus was putting some dishes in the dishwasher and I heard a dish shatter on the kitchen floor.

“Jim!” she screamed, “Get in here, quick!”

I started to head back to the kitchen but they had just dropped the puck to start the third period.“Hang on, wait for a whistle,” I responded, watching the game from a point halfway between the kitchen and the living room.

“Now!” she hollered, “Forget the bloody hockey game!”

I cursed under my breath and went to see what the fuss was.

“What is that hovering over the garden shed?” she asked shakily.

I stretched over the sink and peered outside. Just then the horn sounded, a cheer went up and I knew we had scored and I missed it. I pushed past her and got there just in time to see the replay. Daniel from Burrows, a beauty.

“You made me miss a goal,” I said as I came back into the kitchen.

“It is still there you idiot, just hovering.”

I went to the back door, only because a commercial was on, and be damned if there wasn’t a saucer shaped thingy, spinning around with all sorts of lights. My lawn furniture was being pulled across the lawn towards the shed and the neighbour’s little dog was going crazy.

“Phone 911, now,” she implored.

I headed for the phone and started to dial when the horn and cheers started again. I put the phone down and hurried back to see the TV. Kesler had scored on a breakaway and I’d missed it again. I sat down to watch the replay,  and just as I started to tell her she’d made me miss another goal, there was a whack from behind and I was down and out for the count.

When I woke up, it was morning, there was this lump on my head, the missus’s rolling pin is beside me, she’s gone, my shed is gone, my lawn furniture is gone, the neighbour’s dog is gone and that’s when I phoned you guys. Hey, did the Canucks win?

If you want to invade our country, there will be a lot less resistance during the Stanley Cup playoffs. At least that’s what McGregor says.