It was one of those where were you moments. There are a few of those scattered around over the years. I know there are a few that stand out for me.
I was in elementary school when the announcement of John F. Kennedy being killed was made over the classroom speaker.
I was at the family cottage to watch the first moon landing, cursing the reception from the old rabbit ears until I figured out that the reason for the fuzzy picture may have something to do with the fact it was coming from the moon.
And I was home for Paul Henderson’s winning goal. I had run home after school to catch the end of the game. And get changed for soccer practice. Which is where I was supposed to be. On the field. Running laps. Or something like that.
But who could walk away from a moment like that? Certainly not me.
I hadn’t expected that Canada would even have a chance to win that ’72 series. It had not looked good during the first game. The Russians had a really good team. Better than many of us had expected.
Canada hadn’t put a team of pros on the ice against the Russians, and there was an expectation they would sweep the series. That didn’t happen. And it was a tough fight to get to the point where that one goal could make a difference. So I was not moving from in front of that television set until after that game was over.
I saw the goal, the game ended, and I ran as fast as I could to get to soccer practice. Then I ran some more. I had to run extra laps for being late to practice. But it was worth it.
