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.
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