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Canada's Goose Is Cooked
You went too damn far this time. First you tried to pawn off that bad ham as bacon. Then you stuck us with Celine Dion and no instructions on how to turn her off. But when you started booin' our national anthem, Bubba, you peed on the wrong leg. It happened five times last week. Vancouver Canucks fans roundly booed The Star-Spangled Banner before two home playoff games against the Colorado Avalanche, and Edmonton Oilers fans booed it before three home games against the Dallas Stars. Hey, Roseanne wasn't even singin' it! I know it's not easy playin' Paul Shaffer to our David Letterman, but we don't deserve this. Don't we keep our border open to you people? Put up with that gross Tom Green and his televised testicles? Let you park your Zambonis anyplace you want? O.K., our anthem isn't the catchiest tune, but it's ours. We don't like Muslim point guards sittin' down while it's played, and we don't like Canadians like Robert Goulet forgettin' the words to it, and we sure as hell don't like a bunch of plaid-wearin', moose-speakin' McKenzie brothers booin' it. Don't forget, we've got a Texan on the button now. Nobody's quite sure why you're booin'. Maybe you think if you disrespect somebody else's country, it makes you more patriotic. Maybe Vancouver is hacked off about losing its NBA Grizzlies to a U.S. city. Maybe Edmonton fans have had it up to their earflaps with gettin' punked by the Stars in the playoffs four straight seasons. Or maybe fans hear the rumors that the Oilers are the next Canadian hockey team that's going to pack up and move across the border. Or maybe you drink about three dozen too many Labatts before the games. But you buncha lumberjacks just crossed a 3,987-mile line. Well, I know what it is. You're sore at how we're whippin' you at your game. A Canadian team hasn't won the Stanley Cup since 1993. You've only got six teams left out of the 30 in the league, and those six are lookin' paler than a Saskatoon stripper. None of 'em have a snowball's chance this year, and most are broker than Braniff. Meanwhile, there are teams in such hockey hotbeds as Dallas, Miami, Phoenix (you remember that team, right? Used to be in Winnipeg), San Jose and Tampa. Your dollar is worth, what, 65 cents now? How many pesos is that? Two? And now a Coloradan, George Gillet Jr., is trying to buy your crown jewel, the Montreal Canadiens. Is that beautiful? Hope he starts serving tacos and Bud and slappin' all those snooty French Canadians on the back with, "How's it hangin', Hoss?" You had to be pretty desperate to boo ol' Frank Key's jingle. The Avalanche (you remember that team, right? Used to be in Quebec) was on its way to sweepin' out the Canucks four-zip, and most of the Colorado players are Canadians anyhow. You even pissed off Avalanche captain Joe Sakic, and he's from suburban Vancouver! You're booin' your next-igloo neighbor. Plus, you've been runnin' those Molson beer "I Am Canadian" ads up there the last three years, takin' shots at us, callin' Canada "the best part of North America." One ad mocked us for our basic friendliness, like when you tell us you're from Canada, and we say, "Hey, do you know Suzy? She's from Canada!" O.K., we do know one guy you might know -- Wayne Gretzky. Owns a piece of the Phoenix club. You thought he'd come back after he'd seen Hollywood, the beach and Janet Jones naked? Yeah, right. He figured out early on that he was stayin', especially after his Canadian buddies came to his house in L.A., saw the long, steep driveway and moaned, "Wayner, you'll never get up this in the winter." I notice Larry Walker hasn't moved back, either. Or Michael J. Fox. Or Jim Carrey. Gee, can't imagine why. Other than fat taxes, tiny temperatures and the fact that a big Saturday night is sittin' next to a hole in the ice waitin' for a lunk to come along while keepin' your bait warm in your mouth. You know what a Canadian guy asks before he agrees to a blind date? "Does she have her own jumper cables?" You know how to spell Canada? C, eh? N, eh? D, eh? So that's it. Burn the Peace Bridge. This is war. Your only job was to stay quiet up there, send us the occasional smoked salmon and protect us from invasion by Greenland. But you went and ruined it. You think we can't take all them sissy Mounties? We can whip them with Rulon Gardner alone. Tell you what. We either get an apology by the morning, or you hosers can forget about becoming our 51st state. Issue date: April 30, 2001 Have something to say about Rick Reilly's musings? Click here to submit a comment -- and be sure to check out Reilly's Mailbag. Don't miss The Life of Reilly (Total/SPORTS ILLUSTRATED, $22.95) -- a best-of compilation of Rick Reilly's columns and features, with a foreword written by Charles Barkley, available now at the CNN/Sports Illustrated Stuff Store and bookstores everywhere.
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