Although, on second thought, I "may" have been to a Vancouver Canucks game back in the '80s. Maybe. But if I did go, I sat in the nose bleed section where my friends and I watched ant-like players slithering around in a tiny oval chasing a black speck.
The local rink however, only has 13 rows that seat a total of 2500 spectators. I got a seat in the 9th row, behind the penalty box. When I arrived, I was immediately struck by the size of everything. The rink was big. The Zamboni was huge! And there were the sounds and smells of the place—the scent of popcorn and that unmistakable rink smell. This is a completely different experience from watching a game on TV... or from the nosebleed sections of a "big leagues" stadium. This felt up close and personal.
The game I was attending was a playoff game between the Nanaimo Clippers and the Prince George Spruce Kings so the arena was packed with boisterous fans. A few from the Spruce Kings, but the majority were dedicated Clippers fans wearing variations of orange jerseys.
It was a social atmosphere with season tickets holders chatting with others several rows up or down. And as the game started, the atmosphere was electric. Everything was bigger than life. The smack of the puck against a stick on a rink-wide pass was much louder than I expected. I could hear the players calling back and forth. The crowd would boo a penalty call against the Clippers and someone would start a chant "Ref You Suck". A goal by the visiting team was met with a disappointed silence whereas a goal by the Clippers was met with a roar of approval, a huge blast of the arena horn and flashing lights. Not to mention the cow bells and other noise makers that fans had brought with them.
Sometimes I missed the details of a penalty. I might have been following the puck and was often surprised by the whistle. A penalty? For what?? Where was the replay??
But there was no big screen jumbotron. There was no replay. Sometimes the two guys next to me would discuss the penalty and I would get a sense of what had happened but it struck me... this was very much like "real life".
The game couldn't be put on pause. There were no replays. No way to hit "rewind" and watch it again. There was also no play-by-play commentary. There was no explanation of what was happening on the ice. If I missed something... then it was gone. Forever. It took me at least a period, maybe two, to shake the sense there should be a replay button.
A live hockey game, even in the junior leagues, is very different from a televised game. Even though I went on my own, I was absorbed into the crowd atmosphere. I cheered and roared with the rest of the fans when the Clippers scored. It's not the same at home. Even with the biggest TV screen (which we do not have), there is no substitute for the real thing.
It's the difference between participating and watching. At home, we watch TV. We don't participate in whatever we are watching. At a game, even as a "fan", we are participating. We are "there". We are part of the crowd. We are a fan. We are part of the event. All of our senses are engaged. It's a full body experience. At home... not so much. And I see why people have game parties, or go to a pub to watch the big game. It is a bit like "being there"... it re-creates the fan experience, a little bit. Being surrounded by like-minded folk who are rooting for the same team.
But nothing can replace the "live" experience. And it makes me wonder... where do I do this in my own life? How often do I watch gardening videos instead of going out into my own garden? How often do I read about places instead of visiting them? How often do I watch a home make-over instead of picking up a paint brush? How often do I trade participating for observing? Or creating for consuming?
We come to believe that life can be put on "pause" or we can hit "replay" and watch it over and over again. But that's not how life works. There is no pause or instant replay. There is only this moment... where we can choose to step in and engage with whatever is happening, or we can choose to retreat and just watch, from a distance, through a third-party mediator. Through a lens or a screen.
And perhaps that is the crux... at a live hockey game, I get to decide what I am watching. Whether it's the play, or a funny fan, or the Zamboni going round and round the rink in mesmerizing loops. On a screen... someone else determines the scene, the angle, the speed, the focus.
I'm not saying it's not worth it... to be able to watch the Olympic gold medal hockey game on TV, for free. But if that's all we do... if that's our mode-of-engagement with life, with "events"... something gets lost.
