What Now?

When I was a kid, I was convinced I’d be the next Wayne Gretzky, or the next Barry Bonds. I truly believed that lacing up my skates at 7 a.m. on Sundays while the whole city slept would guarantee me a spot in the NHL (National Hockey League).

As I got older, reality began to hit me and by the time I got into high school, I realized that I wouldn't be breaking any scoring records. Instead, my expectations shifted to becoming a third or fourth line player. But I kept dreaming.

Then, one summer, I tore my medial collateral ligament (MCL). I remember the day vividly; it’s become one of the few memories that I can recall with all five senses. One minute I was playing basketball, jumping to get a rebound, and the next I was on the concrete, screaming in pain while clutching my deformed left knee.

I remember the doctor telling me that I’d be unable to play sports for at least six months and would need regular physiotherapy sessions, and possibly surgery, if I ever hoped to fully heal. When he delivered the news, I thought, what now?

He put my leg in a soft cast, gave me a pair of crutches and sent me on my way. Not the answer I was looking for.

Benjamin Franklin once said, “You can do anything you set your mind to,” and I’m sure most people have heard this quote sometime during their childhood. It’s a positive message that motivates a lot of young people, but it’s also one of the many lies we tell to shield young people from the disappointing reality of office jobs. This shield either becomes a source of motivation, or it becomes a crutch in early adulthood.

The truth is there’s no mathematical equation where hard work equals guaranteed success. Sometimes, setting your mind to something doesn't always yield the desired results; sometimes, it does the opposite and forces you to confront your physical, emotional and psychological limitations. And that can be devastating for anyone who’s told that anything is possible. 

I've since realized that I'd never become a professional athlete. If my lack of talent wasn't a dead giveaway, my injury-prone body made it clear. The trick is to accept and understand your limitations. Being able to adapt and overcome situations can be as vital to success as hard work.

PIERRE CORBETT-ROY

After spending ample time confined to a cubicle, Pierre has decided to hang up his suit and tie in order to pursue a writing career. He is a student at Algonquin College, in his final year in the Professional Writing program. Outside of class, Pierre is a passionate individual with a penchant for learning. A self-proclaimed nerd at heart, he also enjoys playing baseball and hockey, running, and over-analyzing things. On a rainy day, you can find him at his typewriter, transcribing his inner monologue.

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It's A Family Thing

Picture a big, rectangular table at the far end of a room full of smaller ones occupied by hungry people – yes, you’re in a restaurant. The table in the back is currently occupied by 20 young teens and not enough adults to contain the mischievous young boys. One of those boys is me. We’re speaking loudly, laughing as we throw food at each other between bites. The adults try to control us, or at least minimize the number of inappropriate actions, but they are outnumbered and, quite frankly, they find some of the antics entertaining. On the ice, we are a team; in public, we’re an unpredictable disaster. No matter where we are, we’re a family. 

It wouldn’t be an effective hockey blog if I didn’t reference the best hockey movie of the 90s, The Mighty Ducks:

Much like in the video, my teammates and I all come from different backgrounds, have different upbringings, different life experiences, and some of us even have different outlooks on life, but our love of hockey and our dedication to the sport and the culture of winning has created a bond that is often misunderstood or over-simplified by those who have never been part of a team.

Back at the restaurant, the boys and I are enjoying our well-deserved meal consisting of pasta, chicken wings, milk and chocolate cake — the victory meal every thirteen-year-old dreams of. Pasta sauce adorns our smiling faces, and the occasional slice of bread flies from one side of the table to the other. Once the meal is over, we slowly make our way out, and the waitress breathes a sigh of relief as we exit the restaurant.

We head back to our respective vehicles and exchange a few high-fives along the way. I sit in the back seat of the car as my friend and his dad sit up front. When we pull out of the parking lot, I stare out of the window and watch my teammates slowly disappear in the horizon as we drive away.

Even though most of us have drifted apart over the years, I still remember my former teammates with fondness, and I’m grateful for having had such a large family growing up.

PIERRE CORBETT-ROY

After spending ample time confined to a cubicle, Pierre has decided to hang up his suit and tie in order to pursue a writing career. He is a student at Algonquin College, in his final year in the Professional Writing program. Outside of class, Pierre is a passionate individual with a penchant for learning. A self-proclaimed nerd at heart, he also enjoys playing baseball and hockey, running, and over-analyzing things. On a rainy day, you can find him at his typewriter, transcribing his inner monologue.

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Escape

My equipment is especially heavy tonight as I sit in the locker room surrounded by teammates.  We're waiting for our coach to enter and rally us before the game as though we're in a cheesy Hollywood movie. The boys are joking around, retelling the pranks pulled on the unlucky few who fell asleep first in the hotel room the night before. They talk about their sexual conquests and compare notes on the specifics – you know…guy stuff. But not me. Instead, I remain quiet; I prefer to listen and observe the social interations.

The coach enters the room and everyone becomes quiet, like an angry mob just before its leader begins to speak.

He reminds us of the importance of the game and, in doing so, voices every cliché in the coaching handbook. It doesn’t matter because it seems to work. The guys are quiet, focused and prepared for the game. A little direction is all they need. 

The coach exits the room and, one by one, we follow suit. I walk down the narrow, unlit hallway and the music becomes progressively louder as I approach the ice. The guys in front of me step onto the frozen surface, one by one, and begin their warm-ups. The echoing sounds of rubber pucks hitting the boards provide a familiar comfort. When my turn to jump onto the ice comes, I hesitate and fill my lungs with air. I exhale and watch the cold turn my breath into vapour. I watch it rise and disappear before I leap onto the ice, now completely at ease.

That day I found out that someone close to me had fallen seriously ill, and I was miles away, unable to return home to be with them. Some things are out of our control. As soon as I jumped onto the ice, my only concern was to play my best. My motivation, my dedication, my performance, those things I could control.

For some, hockey is just a game, but for others, it is much more than that; it is a temporary escape, a therapeutic distraction, a simple reminder that they are not always powerless.

PIERRE CORBETT-ROY

After spending ample time confined to a cubicle, Pierre has decided to hang up his suit and tie in order to pursue a writing career. He is a student at Algonquin College, in his final year in the Professional Writing program. Outside of class, Pierre is a passionate individual with a penchant for learning. A self-proclaimed nerd at heart, he also enjoys playing baseball and hockey, running, and over-analyzing things. On a rainy day, you can find him at his typewriter, transcribing his inner monologue.

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To Kill a Mockingbird

Today, hockey practice is extended due to an embarrassing loss at the hands of what should have been an easy opponent.

“There ain’t no reason why we couldn’t have won that one, boys,” repeats my coach as he watches us do extra suicides to atone for our defeat the night before.

I’m well aware of the double negative uttered by my coach, but I refrain from correcting him for fear of additional suicides. While in public, my appreciation for words and proper grammar has to remain a secret.

I walk across the hallway, weaving through groups of students huddled around their lockers and make it to my English class without a second to spare. As I sit, the teacher asks us to take out our copies of To Kill a Mockingbird — the book that we are to discuss today.

The teacher asks a few basic questions regarding the book, and the usual suspects answer. Rebecca, one of the smarter students, offers a brilliant analysis but is countered with disrespectful whispers from our classmates.

Then, rather unexpectedly, the teacher asks me to comment. I take a minute to reflect and take a deep breath before answering. Torn between sincerity and dishonesty, I choose the former, as a surge of courage overwhelms me.

I tell her that I enjoyed the book, and that I especially identified with the theme of prejudice – a theme which is clearly portrayed by the character of Boo Radley. The teacher smiles and, without responding to my comment, continues with her questioning.

When the bell rings my classmates make their way to the door and rush to their next class. I exit the room and run into several of my teammates, waiting for me.

“Nice answer. When did you become such a nerd?” one of the guys says sarcastically.

Normally an admirer of words, I’m reminded of how hurtful they can be when used with malevolent intent. Adolescence is a constant popularity contest, and being "different" excludes you from the perks that accompany a position at the top of the social hierarchy.

Aware of this, I respond, “I just used Sparknotes. I didn’t actually read the book.”

Now, seven years removed from the confined walls of high school, and no longer interested in the social hierarchy that once was my raison d’être, I proudly display my books and my love for words, stories and grammar. What used to be a source of insecurity has become a source of pride. It’s taken time, but I've come to learn that acceptance from others means nothing until you can accept yourself.

PIERRE CORBETT-ROY

After spending ample time confined to a cubicle, Pierre has decided to hang up his suit and tie in order to pursue a writing career. He is a student at Algonquin College, in his final year in the Professional Writing program. Outside of class, Pierre is a passionate individual with a penchant for learning. A self-proclaimed nerd at heart, he also enjoys playing baseball and hockey, running, and over-analyzing things. On a rainy day, you can find him at his typewriter, transcribing his inner monologue.

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Why do We Love to Win?

“If winning isn’t everything, then why do they keep score?”

— Vince Lombardi

I discovered at a very young age that I love to win. Whether it's a debate, a race or a baseball tournament, it doesn't matter; I have to win. This dominant characteristic has led me to devote a substantial amount of my time playing sports. Thankfully, my parents were able to immerse me in an environment that fostered sane and healthy competition.

As a child, I had no idea that my obsession was influenced by ulterior motives; all I knew was that winning felt good, and losing didn't. But now, armed with the power of introspection and motivated by the desire to understand human behaviour, I am able to comprehend the biological and sociological importance of competitive sports, as well as people's motivation to compete.

Biology:

Competition plays an important role for all living species. Intraspecific competition is defined by a contest for resources in an ecosystem between members of the same species. For example, two plants within close proximity will compete with one another for light, water and nutrients. In this scenario, the plant that loses the competition dies, leaving the winner to thrive in a resource abundant environment. This competition for resources in nature is at the very core of evolution, and can’t be overlooked when trying to understand the motivations behind human behaviour. In other words, it's natural for every living organism to compete in order to survive, and the fact that you are alive and able to read my post is proof that you are a competitive being. And you have already won the most important competition imaginable.

Society:

Sports aside, society displays an affinity for competition; it can be found in almost every aspect of our everyday life. Companies compete in an attempt to monopolize a specific market, politicians compete against one another to win elections and individuals compete to be hired by employers.

Furthermore, as a collective, we celebrate and encourage the winning mentality, which only solidifies the presence of competition in our society. Whether this encouragement is a result of our biology or the result of an out-dated ideology is up for debate. What I know for sure is that we must adapt and compete or, as history clearly shows, we will be labeled as losers and left to die. 

PIERRE CORBETT-ROY

After spending ample time confined to a cubicle, Pierre has decided to hang up his suit and tie in order to pursue a writing career. He is a student at Algonquin College, in his final year in the Professional Writing program. Outside of class, Pierre is a passionate individual with a penchant for learning. A self-proclaimed nerd at heart, he also enjoys playing baseball and hockey, running, and over-analyzing things. On a rainy day, you can find him at his typewriter, transcribing his inner monologue.

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