In Praise of Gino

In Praise of Gino

As a young fan I loved Gino Odjick. As an older fan, I’ve had my fanaticism rounded off by life’s joys and tragedies. I think it’s called perspective. My mood doesn’t rise and fall with the team’s success. My personal relations don’t suffer from bad games and unfair calls. The emotions still bubble up, but memories and understanding keep them from breaking the surface.

But I still love Gino like I’m a kid.

I’m heartbroken he has to leave us so soon.

As a young fan I loved Gino’s fire, unpredictability and joy.  Athletes from our youth anchor us to those simpler times. They are reminders of the passion and power that were so easy to hold before sore backs and reading glasses told us to slow down. These athletes usually fade away. You see an occasional news story about a charity event, or, too often, hard times they’ve encountered. Eventually, you read their obituaries. Each time another thread that ties you to your past is worn away. You still have memories of the joy they brought, but their deaths destroy the wonderful fiction of an eternal present.

The news of Gino’s illness pushes the 1994 magic further into my youthful storage closet of mundane memories I won’t recall. That is especially unfair to a hockey player like Gino Odjick. Gino was an unlikely hero. His story shouldn’t be coupled in my mind with other unremarkable memories of youth. I know we like to pretend hockey is a perfect meritocracy where issues of social inequality don’t surface. I’ve played enough hockey, and been around the game long enough, to know that a native hockey player faces obstacles and bigotry that most don’t. This isn’t a diatribe about social injustice. It is a simple understanding of Gino Odjick’s truth. If you don’t think a native kid playing hockey gets treated poorly, then you are naive, wilfully ignorant or have the luxury of blindness that comes with privilege.

Despite the difficult road, and the obstacles overcome, Gino played the game with a joy I don’t see any more. Players celebrate goals using one of their predetermined ‘cellys’. They show flashes of exuberance at designated times. I don’t know any player that brought so much ecstatic energy to every aspect of the game. Gino knew what his life could have been, what it is for so many kids born on reserves. Gino had a perspective in his youth that it has taken me decades to acquire. He had his fill of tragedies early on. The situations that filled other players with dread were another opportunity to play for Gino. I know fighting is looked upon by many as barbaric and stupid. I’m not, necessarily, talking about that. In every situation Gino let us know this was still a game. He let us know how lucky we were to play our games and watch our heroes.

I miss that.

And I’ll miss you Gino.

Sincerely,      

A fan.