THIS BLOG HAS BEEN INSPIRED IN PART BY THE CURRENT NHL LOCK OUT THAT THREATENS THE 2012-2013 SEASON. IT IS A SAD REALITY THAT MILLIONAIRES CAN'T MAKE A DEAL TO SHOW SUPPORT FOR ALL THE LOYAL HOCKEY FANS OUT THERE WHO SPEND THE LITTLE MONEY THEY HAVE TO ATTEND GAMES, BUY NHL MERCHANDISE AND PROUDLY WEAR TEAM SWEATERS TO SHOW THEIR PRIDE. MAYBE BOTH PLAYERS AND TEAM OWNERS SHOULD TAKE SOME NEGOTIATION TIPS FROM RINK RATS THE WORLD OVER, WHO LOVE THE GAME OF HOCKEY FOR WHAT IT IS; NOT BECAUSE OF THE MONEY.
My Rink Rat Days at the Bracebridge Arena
My mother Merle used to tell friends that I spent more time at the arena than I did at home. Of course she was answering the question, "So where’s that son of yours?" From the winter of 1966, I was a full-fledged Rink Rat in Bracebridge. I had been a rookie Rink Rat at the Burlington Arena before that (my old hometown) and both rinks had many similarities.....the most important common-ice so to speak, was that the managers in charge of both had a kind heart for us kids having little else to do. We loved skating, we adored hockey, and we looked up to the senior leagues as if they were National Hockey Leaguers.
At both rinks, I’d show up for minor hockey, or public skating which was the best quarter investment a kid could make, and utilize every moment allotted..... and then I would sneak up into the bleachers for the afternoon hockey games. Most of us didn’t have the money to pay an admission to the games so the only choice we felt comfortable with....was, well hiding down below the seats until the paying patrons began to arrive. It worked pretty well in Burlington but the manager in Bracebridge was far more astute when it came to corralling wayward Rink Rats. It was as if he could read our minds because he knew exactly when and where to look if he needed help for any arena project. Geez, we thought we had hidden ourselves rather well.
Doug Smith was the arena manager when we arrived in Bracebridge. Doug was crusty but in a fatherly way. He would yell at you just as robustly as would your own pop, if you were doing something stupid or dangerous. At the time he was manager, the position was an all-or-nothing proposition, and one minute he’d be sharpening skates, the next taking tickets, serving up hot dogs from the snack bar, looking after some problem patrons, making sure the ice was properly cleaned, and dealing with backed-up toilets over-flowing. He had custodial staff but not really enough to keep up on all the inherent chores with running a big, big arena.
Doug knew instinctively that we were going to hide-out in the under-seat passage-ways that used to afford us a most amazing adventure, darting between dressing rooms and into the referee’s inner sanctum. Doug counted us on the way in and out, and he understood fully that those who hadn’t left at the end of minor hockey, or public skating, were in essence his available workforce. Back in those days the Rink Rats were recruited to clean off the ice in between periods and user groups, with long bladed snow shovels in preparation for the hand pushed water barrel on wheels; that used to spread a somewhat even coating of hot water on the ice surface. The rule.....we couldn’t leave any snow-clumps by sloppy shovel-work, that could be inadvertently watered by Bing with the barrel. He used to yell at us a lot to take another run with the shovel, if it looked like we cut corners. A frozen snow-ridge might have killed some unsuspecting forward on a breakaway, or have taken out a referee not expecting a frozen mound of snow to be under skate.
At intermissions, when we saw Fred "Bing" Crosby head down to the barrel on wheels, the Rink Rats dashed like mad to grab up one of the shovels to be part of the cleaning gang. I was lucky about every third dash because there were a lot of kids desirous of the honor to clean the ice.....especially at the intermission of an important, well-attended game. We thought the girls in our classes at school were watching us out there smoothing the ice. We were wrong of course but we didn’t find that out until years later. The girls were only interested in the players not the shovel brigade.
The reward for shoveling was a hot dog and the pop of choice at the snackbar. I was okay with that.....but it’s also known I would have done it without any more reward than being allowed to stay in that magnificent building a little longer. I could quite literally spend an entire day and part of the evening in that building without leaving for home. Saturdays during the winter were dedicated to arena occupation. I’d of course have to clear it with my parents but they always felt I was in good hands with an overseer like Doug Smith. Fred Crosby was also a tough guy to get around but he was still "Bing" and that meant dependable friend no matter what the circumstance. He could be yelling at you one moment to get down out of the rafters and flipping you fifty cents for some grub at the snackbar the next. Bing did not have the money to give away, and while I’m sure he was pleased to extend it as charity, he was not so well paid that it didn’t hurt his bottom line. Everybody it seemed hit-up Bing for phone money, a drink of pop, and when quite hungry, one of those wonderful arena franks.......that we topped up with an inch of ketchup and relish as vegetables of the day. The aura of the arena back then was inviting, exciting, and inspiring. We loved the whole aura of winter-time sport even as spectators.
As a young player, a goaltender to be specific, stepping out onto that ice pad, and hearing the small but noisy crowd react, was a dream come true. It was our own Maple Leaf Gardens, and whether we were playing or part of the audience, just being in that building put us into the heart of hockey history in Canada. I can still sit out there in an empty arena and sense the return of every one of those important Rink Rat moments. Heck I was so impressed with my own years haunting this place, that when a fellow newspaper reporter (The Herald-Gazette) and I formed a senior hockey team, we called it with some distinction The Rink Rats circa 1981. I understand the team is still going strong after all these years. I had to quit hockey because my body parts were failing and the rental hour was simply too late at night.....recovery in the morning didn’t occur until two days later. I was okay with retirement.
While Bing and Doug were just employees of the Bracebridge arena to some.....that’s only because they didn’t know just how far staff was expected to go, above and beyond, their job description, to run the site properly. They had no choice whatsoever, in adopting kids like us because frankly they couldn’t get rid of us that easily. Out one door and in the other. They just learned how to utilize our energies and we were just glad to be able to work out a deal, to allow us a place to stay, play and learn for a lot of wonderful years.
When I write about the human side of history in my hometown, these are the first two of many hundreds of names I recall quickly, as being unsung heroes, and the true architects, whether they knew it or not, of a good quality of living for so many of us. They gave us reasons to be protectors of local heritage, and in their company, we became the most fierce defenders of the Bracebridge Memorial Community Centre......and God help the vandal who defaced our home away from home. They made us proud of what we possessed as hometowners such that it would have been impossible for us to take anything for granted......and that’s why during the whole tenure of Doug Smith, I never once heard any youngster turn down his offer of temporary employment shoveling ice. It was an honor and a sign of mutual respect to be asked. I thank you Doug and Bing for so many fond memories.
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