On Frozen Blog

[With Winter's overdue arrival in DC, I was inspired to finally finish this story about my Great White North trip.]
On a grey and rainy October day, Old-time Hockey was alive and well. No luxury suites, no fans chatting on mobile phones, no millionaire players, no laser shows… just a blood-and-guts no-frills hockey game. I was in Toronto at an Ontario Hockey League game, and I was in heaven.
The Majors
The Toronto St. Michael’s Majors play in the OHL (league slogan: “Now this is hockey!). Their home is the St. Michael’s College School in uptown Toronto, smallest in the league with a capacity of about 1,600 — though next year the Majors are moving to the 5,400-seat Hershey Center in Mississauga, so this is the last season they play in the barn.
For now, the Majors hold an old-school home advantage, harkening back to the days when arenas varied more than just their sponsor ads: their ice sheet is only 180′ x 80′ — significantly smaller than the 200′ x 85′ standard — which makes for an up-close-and-personal style of board-banging hockey.

While this incarnation of the Majors is celebrating its tenth year, the original Majors began in 1906 and played into the 1960s. The combination of a proud history with such a small arena creates an electric hockey atmosphere. The Majors have an impressive alumni roster, and as I browsed those old photos along the walls I found Majors alumni like Frank Mahovlich, Gerry Cheevers, Red Kelly, Tim Horton (love those Timbits!), and my favorite: Peanuts O’Flaherty. Now that is a name. If only Charles Schulz had been Irish…
The Game
We settled into our bleacher seats three rows from the ice (for 12 bucks Canadian, mind you: just a bit cheaper than the Maple Leafs game the previous night). It was an afternoon tilt against the Barrie Colts, and my flight back to DC was that evening. After a fun but exhausting trip, including a visit to the Hockey Hall of Fame that morning, I was hoping for an exciting game to help me recharge. And that’s just what I got.
The fans were enthusiastic and friendly. When one fan good-naturedly harassed me about wearing a Peter Bondra Detroit Vipers jersey (from his 1995 contract hold-out year), I explained that I was visiting from DC and we struck up a conversation. He seemed pleased to show off the Majors’ hockey experience to an “American guest.”
Penalties Galore
The photo to the right isn’t the team bench — no, it’s the overcrowded home team penalty box. They should install sin bin bleachers.
The OHL is not a league for the faint-hearted. The teams racked up 25 penalties in the game, yet the game flow and excitement never ebbed. The bone-crunching hits kept coming, every player striving to make his presence felt (literally).
The teams played with abandon so the goals came quickly too: 6 PP goals and 4 even-strength in the first two periods. End-to-end action, some acrobatic saves, and serious physical contact. This was old-time hockey, and I loved it.
The T-shirt Incident
Late in the first period a female Majors staffer (a Majorette? Perhaps.) came to our section to throw t-shirts to the crowd. One bounced off my hands and landed along the boards two rows in front of me. Thinking it would be a nice souvineer of the visit, and since nobody else was in that area, I got up and made my way down the steps to pick up the shirt (gingerly, due to the torn ACL in my left knee).

I was a step away from the shirt and bent to retrieve it when an old guy in the front row swooped over, grabbed the shirt, looked at me, then scuttled back to his seat clutching the shirt like a newborn. I was speechless–the guy was festooned in a Majors jacket, hat, and innumerable buttons, yet he felt the need to snatch a giveaway t-shirt as someone else was reaching for it.
The fan I mentioned before (the Bondra grumbler) was in disbelief that a fellow Majors supporter would act so rudely. “Come on, he’s a guest! Is this really the impression you want to give a guest?” he shouted, then apologized on the man’s behalf. For his part, the old guy just stoically stared into the middle distance and ignored everyone–no easy feat as we were perhaps 20 feet away from him. His actions left me feeling a bit sour; but I resolved to ignore it, sat down, and resumed enjoying the game.
The next period Mikey, the St. Mike’s mascot, showed up in our section to entertain the kids. The oversized terrier could use a good brushing, but he had lots of enthusiasm (and I love the name). Then a cute Majors staffer walked up and handed me a t-shirt. I was a bit confused… until she explained that the fan a couple rows back sought her out, explained what happened with the previous t-shirt, and asked if she could give me a new one.
I was stunned and grateful (and a bit red-faced) that the fan had made such an effort to ensure that the out-of-town visitor had no negative feelings about the day. And he certainly succeeded.
[Update: a friend who was with me that day reminded me that, much later in the game, the t-shirt snatcher gave the shirt to a little girl elsewhere in our section. Perhaps our initial badgering brought on an attack of conscience. Regardless, all's well that ends well.]
More Swag
I’d noticed the team store selling replica jerseys for $85 plus tax; I was tempted, but resisted. Later, I wandered into the arena’s old-time hockey bar between periods; no $7 cup of Bud in this bar, just wood panelling and the comforting feel of a neighbourhood dive.
Hanging above the bar were game-worn jerseys for a hundred bucks and no tax… well, I was hooked. But the bartender informed me that they only accepted cash; the nearest ATM was a 10-minute walk away, meaning I’d miss a big chunk of the game. I didn’t have enough loonies left in my wallet and was leaving for DC in a few hours. D’oh.
Then the bartender asked one of the team managers if they could run the purchase “upstairs.” To my surprise, the manager promptly escorted me up to the team offices, booted up the credit card machine in the one of the cubicles, and ran my credit card for $100.00. Now that’s customer service.
I donned the new sweater and returned to the seats, much to the delight of nearby fans who said I was finally wearing the “right” jersey. So if you see a guy at a Capitals game holding a beer and wearing a scuffed-up Majors jersey, well, that’s probably me.
A Fond Farewell
The Majors fell to the Colts 6-4, so I didn’t get to see jubilant fans at the end of the game; but given their enthusiasm throughout the contest I’m sure they’d have celebrated loudly. Despite the loss, the game was an absolute blast.
If you’re ever in Toronto, reconnect with hockey’s roots and go see a Majors game. Don’t get me wrong: the Leafs are well worth a visit if you can acquire/afford tickets, but you can’t beat the bang-for-the-buck Old-time Hockey you’ll find with the Toronto St. Michael’s Majors.