This post will have nothing to do with Africa, and everything to do with Winnipeg. On Sunday, after 15 years of grieving and keeping the faith, my Winnipeg Jets returned to the ice. Now for those of you who know me well, you will know that all is now right again in my world. For those who don't, perhaps I should explain myself, and defend my pure and utter ecstasy.
There is something about Peg City. People mock it incessantly, including its own inhabitants. It is cold. Really cold. It is the murder capital of Canada, and yes, there have been some minor gang issues recently. There are a lot of mosquitoes. The downtown has seen better days. It isn't really famous for anything, except maybe for being really cold. Winnipeggers move… to Calgary, to Edmonton, to B.C., and, worst of all, to Toronto. They envy fabulous things like Target, and Ikea, and H & M. They suffer from a serious inferiority complex, and look up to bigger Canadian cities, and like most Canadians, to their rich and powerful neighbours to the south. They love to complain, and their favourite topics are predictably the weather and the mosquitoes. And yet, there is something about Peg City.
Recently, my colleagues and I met over breakfast to discuss an article about "third culture kids". This term refers to children raised outside the culture of their parents, specifically in expat communities. We got to talking about how our own international experiences have changed our perspectives. One of my colleagues commented that she has a hard time relating to people back in the states, and just can't bring herself to care about a football game anymore. While I understood her point, I immediately thought that she doesn't get "it"… she doesn't understand what "it" does for a community, what "it" does for Winnipeg.
Do you remember the 1992-93 season? Everywhere you went that year, people were talking. And here's the thing… I would find myself out in public hearing a couple of strangers talk about Selanne, and I couldn't help but chime in. Did you see that game last night? Did you see that goal? It wasn't conversations about the wind chill I was hearing, but conversations about the Finnish Flash. All the time, everywhere you went. Strangers in line at the grocery store, on the bus, at the game, all talking about Teemu. It was beautiful, fantastic, collective pride, and my favourite hockey memory.
I also, quite strangely, have fond memories of a time three years later, in May of 1995. I remember sitting with my classmates, in our grade 12 year, on the steps of the school after an exam, holding a transistor radio, listening to CJOB. These were classmates I had been in school with for 13 years, people brought together simply and solely due to the fact that we were born in the same town in the same year. Friends who were friends only due to circumstance. And there we sat, huddled around a radio I took from my dad's office, essentially mourning together. Hoping for good news, but knowing it wasn't coming. I remember also attending the May long social in Vita that year. The crowd broke into a chant at least 10 minutes long of "Go Jets Go!" There were high-fives, and hugs, and cheers, and maybe tears shared among all the friends and strangers in that building that night. A true community was created.
In June of 1996, I watched live and in person the last game the Jets won on home ice in game 3 versus the Wings. I loved being a Winnipegger that day, and it is the way I always think of Winnipeg in my heart. We relished every second of that game, together. My community was at its absolute best, mourning and celebrating together at the same time, but most importantly being together. And ever since that day, when someone has asked me who my team is, I have always replied, "The Jets", and each time as I said it, I smiled thinking of how the Jets brought a community together. And they continued to do so whenever we gathered in large numbers, such as at the World Juniors in Grand Forks where we inundated the arena with our chants of "Go Jets Go", and of course high-fived a stranger in the process.
And so, I would have given anything to have been in Winnipeg on Sunday to feel that collective energy of the community brought together, but even though I wasn't there, I felt the warmth of a massive group hug, 700 000 strong. I high-fived a few friends and strangers. I felt the pure and utter ecstasy, and shared it with my community so many miles away. I smiled. What my colleague doesn't realize is that it's not about the game. It's about the sense of community it creates. That's really the point, isn't it? That's really the thing about Peg City… you feel the sense of community, whether it's tossing sandbags together, or having a conversation about the weather, the mosquitoes, how bad a sheet of curling ice is, how great Selanne is, when the Jets are coming back, or how fantastic it is that they are finally home. Welcome home, boys.
