Remembering The Vancouver Canucks

I remember the Vancouver Canucks.

I remember 8 o’clock bedtimes that were artificially extended because Mom would let me listen to the radio as I go to sleep. The radio was always tuned in to CKNW980. Other children had lullabyes – I was sung to sleep by Jim Robson.

I remember Petri Skriko and Tony Tanti scoring gorgeous goals and giving up just as many going back the other way because of an infuriating refusal to backcheck.

I remember Stan Smyl steaming down the off wing.

I remember Pavel Bure, flying as only he could – when he stepped on the gas he was unlike any player the Canucks ever had (or likely ever will).

I remember Trevor Linden. Of course I remember Trev. - the native Albertan who adopted this city as his own. The stoic leader, the classy gentleman, the man who would give his all playing with two broken legs and a broken arm if he had to.

I remember Kirk McLean and The Save vs. Robert Reichel in ’94. I remember him single-handedly stealing game 1 against the Rangers.

I remember Nathan Lafayette. I’ll remember that ‘ping’, as clear and audible today as when it happened. I’ll remember that sound for the rest of my life.

I remember the ‘94 team coming home to an heroes’ welcome, even though they lost - as it should be.

I remember Mark Messier and the hope that his signing signalled along with the ruin that followed shortly thereafter.

I remember Mike Keenan trading Trevor Linden and Kirk McLean and feeling like I had been punched in the stomach.

I remember a flashy young Swede named Markus Naslund finally getting the chance to shine.

I remember Todd Bertuzzi – the good and the bad. The beast of a man who could hold off defenders with one hand while weaving magic with the other and the villain who momentarily lost his mind and broke a man’s neck because a game had gotten out of hand.

I remember Dan Cloutier. … But I try my best to forget him.

I remember Roberto Luongo taking the entire team on his broad shoulders and lifting the club to the most improbable division title in team history in his first year here. I remember the unrealistic expectations that that initial success placed on him to the point where he is now routinely criticized – fairly or unfairly – if he can’t singlehandedly win a game any longer.

I remember the Sedins’ coming out party after the lockout, as they finally got the chance to display their deft passes and otherworldly playmaking ability without someone hooking them to the ice.

I remember Anson Carter’s 36 goals. Chances are he still does, too.

I remember the Blackhawks. I really, really hate the Blackhawks.

I remember the greatest regular season this team has ever had.

I remember every one of Ryan Kesler’s 41 goals as ‘stone hands’ became one of the most unlikely 40-goal men in history through tireless hard work and dedication.

I remember a glorious stretch before Christmas and stretching into the new year where the team Just. Couldn’t. Lose. I remember 17 straight games without a regulation loss.

I remember the most goals for and fewest goals allowed – both firsts for the team.

I remember a power play that when it was working was absolutely sublime – gorgeous passes and lightning-quick puck movement that made the Canucks seem more like the Harlem Globetrotters.

I remember nearly fainting when I found out that the Canucks drew the Blackhawks in the first round.

I remember The Save version 2.0 when Luongo stuffed Patrick Sharp in overtime of game 7.

I remember Alex Burrows’ half-clapper, top-cheddar.

I remember we played the Predators in the second round, but absolutely nothing else about that series. Carrie Underwood’s husband plays for them, right?

I remember Ryan Kesler scoring on one leg and willing the West-clinching game into overtime.

I remember Juice and The Stanchion and the ugliest series-winning goal you will ever see.

I remember going up 2-0 in the Finals and thinking, “My God, they might actually win.”

I remember Aaron Rome’s hit on Nathan Horton.

I remember the Bruins dictating the play for 4 of the next 5 games and watching in disbelief as they skated off with the Cup in our own building.

I remember being bitter for a while and then looking at the injured list and realizing it was a miracle they even got that far. They nearly had to dress Nolan Baumgartner in game 7 of the Stanley Cup Finals. That’s roughly the equivalent of having your arm blown off by a mortar and sticking a Band-Aid on the stump.

I remember Danny and Hank’s season-ending interviews as the cadre of reporters gave them every, single chance to blame something – injuries, poor officiating, Luongo’s goaltending, ANYTHING – for the loss (because you know the Canucks are a bunch of whiners who do nothing but complain – the media says so, therefore it must be true) and Danny and Hank steadfastly refused to take the bait. “We lost this series because we didn’t score. It’s on us.” And I remember at that time thinking that we are so lucky to have these two on our team. They have more strength of character and moral fiber in their pinky fingers than Dan Tencer (Inside Sports Radio) or Mike Milbury (worst general manager in league history, HNIC/NHL on NBC talking-head) have in their entire bodies.

Sure, it didn’t have the ending we wanted, but I know one thing – years from now, after the disbelief and bitterness has faded into the background, I’ll look back on this season and smile. I’ll remember that this season was the most fun I’ve ever had watching hockey.

I’ll remember the 2010-2011 Vancouver Canucks with pride.

Go Canucks Go.