Tuesday night was the World Junior Hockey Championships, US versus Canada for the Gold medal (not a part of the Olympics).  A bunch of my friends were going to a bar on campus to watch the game, so I decided to tag along and experience Canada’s national sport like a native as a TV-side fan.

All the TVs in the place were tuned-in to the game, which could be an indication of the interest and national stakes or the fact that it was a Tuesday and nothing else was on; I’m leaning towards the former.  Canada had the home-team advantage not only in the bar, but also on the ice snce the game was in Saskatoon.  We were stationed on the top floor, among one of a few groups of tables with all the chairs and their respective users facing the two big screens.  The place was buzzing with orders of hotwings, and beer glasses draining and re-filling.  There were probably 30 men and women up there, and just as many below.

Not having heard much about the championship, my cousin and I spent most of the time catching-up from the Holidays, occasionally glancing up at the game.  In between plays we gradually learned more about the history of the medal winners (Canada winning a medal nearly every year since its inception in 1974, Gold the past 4 years).  Stats and talk of who was actually a good player, likely heading to a professional career flew around the bar.  Stats about both teams, that is.  Mind you, this is also called the ‘junior’ championship because only amateur players between the ages of 16 and 20 are allowed to play (i.e., high schoolers and college students).

Whenever Canada did something good we could hear not only hoots from the other fans in the room, but also echoing up from downstairs.  At one point a glass on the table jumped (and promtly shattered) from my friend’s fist beating on the table in celebration.  Thank goodness it was empty.  For the US fanbase (count: 3), our cheers and attention to the game was consistently inconsistent.  If we happened to be watching the TV when we scored or saw the white jerseys crowding together from the corner of our eyes, we would interrupt our conversation to maybe cheer and throw a few high fives around.  Such actions, though, brought the glare of the whole room upon us.  Nothing hostile, of course, but certainly palpable.

It was a high-scoring game and tied nearly the entire time with each time answering the other whenever a goal was scored.  In the last few minutes, the US pulled ahead by two goals, but Canada managed to tie it up again and send the game into overtime.  Us Americans got the explanation of the special rules for overtime (sudden death, both teams play one man down) and then went back to our conversation.  The puck dropped and all eyes were intently focused on the game–all eyes but 4, that is.   Suddenly, my cousin looked up and squinted because he couldn’t figure out what was going on.  Only when we saw a mob of white jerseys pile-up in the corner, did we realize the US had scored and won the Gold medal.  We were happy, albeit surprised, but celebrating amidst the stunned and stifled crowd put a damper on that.  After slapping a few hands and saying my goodbyes, I quickly tip-toed out of the bar and escaped from the silence.  The headline for the front page the next day read: US spoils the show.