Today is the last day of Christmas holidays, and for me, the first day of the second round of the curling season. This is Canadian enough. Before playing in our first game of this new year, my rink was on duty to help prepare and serve the fishfry that happens once a month throughout the winter. In Altona, a fishfry involves copious pounds of pickeral (Walleye) fillets (bought by Terry, our intrepid curling club dude, in person in Gimli, which means the fish came out of Lake Winnipeg, and they are excellent) breaded and pan-fried, and battered and deep-fried, along with vats of spicy red beans, french fries, coleslaw, tartar sauce and the other requisite condiments, water, coffee, and, of course, iced tea. For $14 you get a paper plate and right to wait in line and load up as many times as you want. People come from several miles away, in all manner of weather, for this fine repast. The line-up stretches on and on for about 90 minutes, and our curling club brings in a tidy profit, and people walk away startlingly full. Today one of the local doctors was indeed on the premises to ensure that, should there be any stoppages, a professional could offer service. This event is, quite simply, a marvel of community and good eating times. Coming into the town's Community Hall - wherein you've attended numerous socials and grad banquets and company dinners on various occasions - from the windy-white cold of a Canadian winter (of the Manitoban variety) brings a warmth that really escapes language. You smile and nod at most people. You talk to a few. You sit and share ketchup. You stand up to get your friend a coffee. Or you walk over and buy a monstrous chunk of cheesecake from another local group fundraising. It is, as they say, all good!
From there I headed over to the curling rink to get dressed for the game. We were a conflicted bunch however, because tonight the Junior team was playing Russia in the World Junior Hockey finals. We could play hard and extend the game to eight ends, or throw bricks and head up to the lounge to watch the game, drink beers, and eat leftover fish. Oh the magnitude of the decisions! As we are Canadians, we compromised. We did both. And, in all-Canadian fashion, it all ended up sucking a bit because of it. That is, we as good as threw the game (lost 9 (give or take) to 2 in six ends) and then headed up to catch the last two minutes of a game that Canada lost 5 to 3 in the third period. Classic! Up by three with 18 minutes to play and they can't hold the lead.
You want to know why? Canadians win at losing! Those Canadian boys, each and every one of them, knew that when the game was over, win or lose, they were going to be able to go to a bar, or to a home, and sit down and have a drink and a great supper, with great people who, though a little cranky about a stinker of a performance on the ice, would eventually get over it and just be interested in having a good time together. They played badly, because they were already thinking of the party they'd have after the game. And deep down, they knew that they would party regardless of whether or not they won the game. Because Canadians know that being together (and eating and playing and laughing and talking and so on) is what it's all about.
It's kind of Canadian to, inevitably, not care whether you win or lose. (Even though a lot of people are going to point out that we usually care a lot about whether we win at hockey, and they'd be right, but there are a lot of other areas in which Canadians get over their losing and move right on to partying like they've won: the UN security council, Afghanistan, US trade relations, most summer Olympics sports, soccer, baseball, golf, football, and so on.) We're okay with losing, because we'd rather get along and have a drink together, than win and be jerks alone. We win at doing stuff together! Socials, fishfries, curling clubs, bicycle clubs, healthcare, shivering. Win-win. Lose-win. What's the difference?
Tomorrow the daily ride to work begins again! Whoohoo!
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