One of our HOCKEYSPY.CA agents submitted this report to headquarters earlier today:
During a recent Toronto Maple Leafs home game, a suspicious fellow in a spiffy fedora and trench coat sat two rows behind the bench. He was taking nonstop notes—while chomping on an unlit cigar. After tailing this Dick Tracy clone for most of the game, I finally wandered over to ask what he was up to. He claimed he was a scout…who’d time-traveled from 1944 to check out the NHL in 2025.
He said he’d just finished researching eight decades of hockey evolution—and was racing back to 1944 in time for a Bing Crosby concert (tickets cost $2.50 plus tax).
Upon his return, our time-traveler planned to submit the following report to Maple Leafs boss Conn Smythe:
Mr. Smythe:
The first thing I noticed was that all the players wore helmets to protect their heads. Some even wore something called a visor—little windows on their helmets that covered their faces for additional protection. Even the referees wore helmets. Oh—and guess what? They were using two referees to call penalties, instead of one. I’m guessing there was some kind of disagreement over whose turn it was.
The goaltenders wore strange-looking masks complete with fancy, custom-painted designs. Their pads weren’t brown—they were coloured—and their catching gloves were more like giant baskets than trappers. They all kept a water bottle on top of the net. I can only assume they’re required to fill holes in the ice when not stopping pucks.
The weird part is this: these goalies have been taught to pretend they’re butterflies whenever there is a shot on goal. No wonder the skaters are sacrificing their bodies, diving in front of pucks all game long.
Gone are the wooden sticks—they’ve been replaced with high-tech, one-piece weapons. Even stranger, the stick-blades are banana shaped to pull off something called a slap shot. Think golfer Ben Hogan, but on ice—and you’ve got the idea.
Your famous Maple Leaf Gardens isn’t used for hockey anymore. I hate to tell you this, but today it’s used as a grocery store. Yep, a grocery store.
Today’s NHL arenas are massive: players skate out in darkness, team logos beaming through giant spotlights. There’s unbreakable glass instead of wire to keep pucks in play, a colossal video screen to replay every goal in colour, and nonstop music blasting away. They call it rock-and-roll. Personally, I can’t see it lasting very long. Not one person was doing the jitterbug.
There was advertising printed on the boards. There was advertising on the ice. In fact, signage was everywhere I looked. They told me they needed the extra revenue to pay the players. You’ll be shocked to learn how much players get paid these days. Let’s put it this way—think about selling the team.
When it’s time to resurface the ice, two giant tractors appear at once. They pick up the snow and flood the ice simultaneously. This must be a significant cost-saver for owners. While you’re paying a half-dozen people to walk around with shovels and a giant barrel of water, these owners only need a couple of drivers. The only problem I can see is that there doesn’t seem to be much room for the wife and kids when the driver brings his “Zamboni” tractor home after the game. And of all names—Zamboni? Heh—what a stupid name.
These players are treated like kings. They fly to and from games in giant airplanes called jets. I don’t know how the hell they fly— I don’t see any propellers on them. But wait—it gets crazier—the players carry around tiny telephones that don’t need cords. There’s also a bunch of men dressed in expensive suits hanging around after games and practices. I’m told they’re there to help the players carry their money around. They call them player agents.
I had lunch with a few players before the game. You might be surprised to learn that they don’t eat steak before games anymore. Now they eat pasta and drink all kinds of water. And the prices—yikes, the prices! You won’t be too happy when you see my expense receipts.
They still have sportswriters and newspapers, but most people prefer reading the latest news on small picture screens called laptop computers, which are apparently hooked up to something called the internet—which is a dumb name for sure, but not as dumb as Zamboni. The sportswriters can prepare their game stories on these devices as well. I assume this is some kind of flash-in-the-pan fad. I’m not going to toss out my Electromatic typewriter just yet.
You’d be shocked to see how the fans dress for these games. Most of the men don’t wear suits anymore (a cardinal sin in your day) and I didn’t see any fedoras at all. I won’t even attempt to describe what the women were wearing, or in a lot of cases—not wearing!
The players can’t be very smart because both teams had—get this—four coaches on the bench. From what I saw, the players were awful lazy too. Both teams had four forward lines and three defence pairs. Even funnier: both teams had two goalies! The spare goalies just sat there wearing baseball caps. And I thought baseball’s first-base coaches had it easy.
Here’s the real shocker: Some of the players weren’t born in Canada. Now they employ players from all over Europe—and a lot of Americans too. It turns out that the six-team league you are familiar with has been expanded to 30 teams. Surprisingly, Penetanguishene was not awarded a team.
Most of the players are incredibly big and extremely fast, but they aren’t allowed to touch the puck very much. No sooner do they get it on their sticks than they’re “dumping it in” as if it’s radioactive.
They have a new ritual where they get to rub their glove in their opponents’ faces after every whistle. They call it a “face wash.” Then they swear at each other for a few seconds, before turning away. It looks like fun.
I don’t think these players are as physically fit as they should be. If a game is tied after three periods, they play an overtime period, but it only lasts five minutes—even if no one scores. Not only that, when the overtime period began, each team only had three skaters on the ice. All those players earning all that money, and only three were willing to continue playing?
Here’s the bad news:
When a player falls, it seems like there is a penalty every time. Sometimes, the defender gets penalized for tripping. Other times, the puck carrier is penalized for something called “diving.” Apparently, some players fall on purpose. It gets worse: when a player shoots the puck into the crowd, he goes to the penalty box for two minutes. Clearly, pucks have gone up in price since you last bought some.
On several occasions, a team would score a goal and start to celebrate, but their opponents would argue that they didn’t score. You would think that with all those officials on the ice (two referees and two linesmen) someone would have seen what happened. I thought they would consult the goal judge, but they can’t, because they don’t use goal judges anymore. Instead, they phone someone who isn’t even at the game and let him decide.
Things can get wild at these games. They sell large cans of beer to the fans—with good reason, I suppose. All these changes would drive anyone to drink.
As for the strange news:
I think the Canadian political system is totally different now. Oh sure, they still have Tories and Liberals, but I don’t think the Prime Minister holds the same power as he did back in the 1940s.
It seems some other guy has been running the country until just recently. To be honest, I kind of like him. He dresses like us, talks like us, and even thinks like us. He goes by the name of Don Cherry.
