Lovable Losers Hockey Tournament Part 2

LOVABLE LOSERS HOCKEY TOURNAMENT MARH 10th-12th IN BRACEBRIDGE, HOSTED BY THAT OLD GANG OF MINE, THE RINK RATS

IN THE BEGINNING - WE JUST WANTED SOMETHING TO DO, IN ORDER TO PASS THE WINTER SEASON

     THIS SHORT SERIES OF BLOGS WAS PREPARED TO RECOGNIZE THE 30TH ANNIVERSARY OF THE ANNUAL LOVABLE LOSERS HOCKEY TOURNAMENT, WHICH WILL OFFICIALLY BE ACHIEVED WHEN THE PUCK IS DROPPED, COURTESY LOCAL DIGNITARIES, THIS FRIDAY COMING FRIDAY AFTERNOON, AT THE BRACEBRIDGE ARENA. I HAVE ALSO THOUGHT IT WORTHWHILE TO INCLUDE THE EARLY, AND FOUNDING HISTORY, OF THE RINK RAT HOCKEY CLUB, WHICH IS NOW IN ITS 35TH YEAR OF PLAY, YOU MIGHT SAY. WHAT MAKES ME SOMEWHAT OF AN AUTHORITY, BEYOND THE FACT I'M A REGIONAL HISTORIAN, AND SHOULD KNOW THIS STUFF BY HEART, IS THAT I WAS ONE OF THE DUO WHO HELPED ESTABLISH BOTH THE HOCKEY CLUB, AND THE TOURNAMENT, BACK IN THE 1980'S. I'M THRILLED BY THE FACT BOTH ENTITIES ARE STILL ACTIVE IN BRACEBRIDGE AND AREA, AND STILL FUNDRAISING FOR DESERVING COMMUNITY GROUPS AND ASSOCIATIONS. WE HAD THIS AS A FUTURE PLAN, WHEN BRANT SCOTT AND I HATCHED A PROPOSAL, TO START A PRINT-MEDIA CELEBRITY HOCKEY CLUB, TO PLAY EXHIBITION GAMES WITH OTHER MEDIA ORGANIZATIONS, TO RAISE FUNDS FOR, INITIALLY, THE BRACEBRIDGE BLADES PRECISION SKATING TEAMS, UNDER THE DIRECTION OF COACH HAROLD SHER, ALSO A MEMBER OF THE HOCKEY CLUB. WE WERE ALSO PROUD, A FEW YEARS LATER, TO HAVE MADE A SIGNIFICANT DONATION TO A FUND, TO HELP THE BRACEBRIDGE RECREATION COMMITTEE FINANCE A NEW ICE-RESURFACING MACHINE. WE WERE OPEN TO SUGGESTIONS, WHEN WE SAT DOWN TO PLAN THE VERY NEXT FUNDRAISING PROJECT. THE PUBLISHER OF THE HERALD-GAZETTE, HUGH MACKENZIE, WAS KIND ENOUGH TO LET US USE THE PAPER TO PROMOTE OUR BENEFIT GAMES, AND DID GIVE US A START-UP DONATI0N TO HELP WITH FIRST YEAR ORGANIZATION. I DON'T ALWAYS GIVE THE HERALD-GAZETTE, NO LONGER PUBLISHING, THE CREDIT IT WAS WARRANTED, BECAUSE WE GOT THOUSANDS OF DOLLARS IN AD SPACE FOR FREE. OF COURSE, THE POSITIVE EXPOSURE THE RINK RATS PROVIDED BACK THEN, GAVE US A PRETTY NICE EDGE OVER THE COMPETITION. ESPECIALLY WHEN ONE OF THE OPPOSITION REPORTERS, WOUND UP PLAYING FOR THE RINK RATS.

     The first thing which needs to be established, is that the founders of the Rink Rats were not the kind of everyday blokes a service club, or fraternal organization, would want as members. Brant Scott and I may have been well known as local writers, and weekly columnists back in the early 1980's, working for Muskoka Publications, and specifically The Herald-Gazette, from the white office building at 27 Dominion Street, but we were fiercely independent and refused politely, many requests to join community associations. I was a member of the Bracebridge Historical Society at the time, but it didn't impose on my personal philosophies whatsoever. Our reasoning for not joining community clubs and associations, paralleled the line from the movie "Annie Hall," when Woody Allen comments, that he wouldn't belong to any group that "would have a guy like him for a member." This is what makes the start-up of the Rink Rats a little strange from the fellowship side of things. We just agreed that rather than having to keep coming up with feeble excuses, why we couldn't join other groups, declining invitation after invitation, it would be mildly appropriate therefore, to start our own charitable organization; where, by golly, we would write-up the constitution and the bylaws, and come up with a mission statement long before we hit the ice, on the first night we gathered at the Bracebridge arena. Brant and I were both minimalists back then, so the constitution was pretty thin and the bylaws even thinner. We covered it all with the mission statement, that we would base the whole nine yards of the team's future, on nothing more than goodwill between those who liked to play shinny, first of all, and who secondly, weren't adverse to playing exhibition games representing The Herald-Gazette, which did, afterall, give us a bit of seed money to get the "puck sliding." We rigorously enforced the "for fun" rule, and we only had a few lads who didn't like our laid-back protocol. It's true, we probably made it uncomfortable for anyone who tried to wrestle authority for the club into their dominion. Brant and I had our ways, let's just say, and those who stayed on with the club, learned quickly to accept, that we were the kind of media personalities, who were going to provide lots of ink to make the Rink Rats a stand-out team in the public domain. We were true to our word. Not in athletic prowess, and championship calibre play, but in terms of public recognition.

     As it would all mature, soon after establishing the club, Brant with his column, "A Wee Biscuit," and then just under his name, "Brant Scott," later on, and my column "Cold Coffee," which then morphed into "From the Bleachers," we had a huge amount of newspaper space each week, to promote the players and the projects, the Rink Rats took on throughout the year. In a couple of years, our team members became well known names in the community, because of this ongoing exposure; and they were all good sports, especially Dave Whiteside, who we wrote about frequently, continually dropping the fact that he was a former Toronto Argonaut who we claimed, quit pro football, in order to play for the Rink Rats. We had, in our ranks, well known Muskoka artisan, Jon Partridge, and artist Doug Dunford, as well as professional skating coach, Harold Sher, newspaper photographer / writer, Michael Hilborn, and many others who were stand-outs in their profession, and who we could boast about being onside with us media darlings, to fundraise for the community. Over the years we had quite a few celebrity skaters join with us, in our play in both tournaments and exhibition games. When Brant had to pull our because of an ongoing health problem, Ed Kowalsky, a local constable, took the reigns, and became the unofficial president of the club, while I stuck to media relations and publicity.

     We all got along. Brant and I, and then big Ed, had no problem working with these fine lads, as both team-mates and volunteers for fundraising. We had, without intending to, created a sort of recreational service club, with a willingness to be very "public" in whatever projects we initiated. Even the opposition press couldn't avoid covering Herald-Gazette Rink Rat exhibition games, and add to this, the fact Bracebridge Examiner reporter, Mike Gavin, was also a Rink Rat a few years after we had organized. We were getting mentions in the electronic media, especially when we'd issue a hockey challenge, because most of the stations had celebrity teams they were sponsoring in respective coverage areas. So for the 1980's, as an entire decade, there was no shortage of exposure for those playing on our team. We weren't getting press because we had a stellar team, but rather, due to the fact, we were able to raise quite a lot of money, being rather poor hockeyists, but pretty good showmen.     No fooling! Brant and I sat many nights, in the dimly lit corner of the Albion Hotel Press Club, in Bracebridge, basking in the successes of the club, mostly in the media, not because we were a championship-bound hockey team. We had sponsorship offers coming at us from local businesses, all the time, even across the jug of draft beer, at the hotel, and when we needed a float for the Santa Claus parade, and one of us mentioned it in our columns, we could well have a dozen offers, a few hours after the newspaper hit the store shelves, on Wednesday mornings.

     The interesting part of team-building, is how many friendships were made on and off the ice, that had Rink Rat influences. It even developed an unspecified number of business relationships. We would golf together, go on fishing trips as Rink Rat mates, and come together for socials at any time of the year we felt the need for a club meeting with fringe benefits. It was a club, with a loose constitution, without a single bylaw ever being put forward, let alone written down, or passed by majority vote; there was a sense of goodwill that has obviously become part of the club tradition, and most certainly its broadening legacy.

     I wanted to share some of the archives material I have written in the past four years, as anecdotal retrospectives of those halcyon days of the fledgling Rink Rats, and the founding of the Lovable Losers Hockey Tournament. You may not have known this, but my wife served up a nicely cooked, (falling off the bone) side of beef, at the second Lovable Losers Tournament, making for some incredible sandwiches for our guests; the same year as I won the table-top hockey game playoff, to settle which teams would move on in the tournament, the following Sunday. Our young lads, Andrew and Robert, were at the arena for most of those hockey weekends. It was a great family time, as well as being a dynamic event to be part of.....and I'm not just saying (writing) this, because I was one of its founders. It's also true, that it would take a couple of weeks for everyone to come down from the exertion, mental and physical, of putting on such an ambitious tournament. There were a lot of players to keep happy because we would have considered it a failing, if we had heard players complaining about their treatment, as our guests, in the days and weeks following each springtime event. There were shortfalls, and a hell of a learning curve, that really was just an upward experience, because each tournament brought new challenges, some we hadn't anticipated let alone, knowing how to overcome easily. Ed Kowalsky was never one to shy away from conflict resolution, and I can't tell you how much we leaned on him, to get us through the tough patches of organization, and deployment. But then, the same could be said for the rest of the club, on those occasions of special events, and everyone seemed to enjoy getting involved making an event a winner. Ed Renton, another one of our star goalies, was one of those never-say-never players who helped manage the tournament, (and exhibition games), which in a few years, required a lot more manpower to handle the growing popularity. The fact it has survived, and thrived for thirty years, as of this coming weekend, attests to the determination to succeed.

     I extend credit to those Rink Rats who carried on from the old days, like Gord Dawes, who is still a mover and shaker at nearly a hundred years of age. Only kidding Gord. You don't look a day over ninety. Humour. Now that's been a Rink Rat trademark from the beginning. By the way, I did forget a few players from the early years, when I wrote yesterday's opening blog, about the club's founding in the early 1980's. I should have included the names of Gino Ferarri, Dan Barnes, Terry Hrynk, Paul Monk and Vito, but God forgive me, I have forgotten his last name. Just for the record, meeting places for the Rink Rats back then, including the Wombats and after the amalgamation of the clubs, went from the news room of The Herald-Gazette building, on Dominion Street, to the tables of the North Villa Restaurant, where the Norwood Theatre expanded some years ago with another screen, the Albion Hotel on Main Street, The Holiday House (Now Inn at the Falls), my apartment in the former home and office of Dr. Peter McGibbon, on Manitoba Street, next to Reynold's Funeral Home, and both Ed Renton's, and Norm Levesque's recreation rooms, where the tournament planning was initiated in those fledgling years of the mid to late 1980's.

     The stories that infill the rest of the five part series, range from a memorial tribute to the Rink Rats first goalie, Harry Ranger, and as well, for Brant Scott, the club founder, and various other stories that I thought worthy of penning for posterity, about the way the hockey club became our social outlet, at the same time as we benefitted from the recreational opportunities associated with skates, pucks and sticks. I reiterate, that knowing the Rink Rats and the Lovable Losers Tournament has survived for all these years, with a new generation of hockeyists, makes me feel it was all very much worth the effort, to create the team as an

outreach organization, that tournament spokesman, Gord Dawes, can attest, is still committed to the promotion of sportsmanship in hockey; and dedicated to fundraising for worthy causes, within the community. Instead of hoisting a championship trophy over their heads, at the end of each tournament, the more important reality, is that the team basks in the knowledge, they have once again, made enough money by their dedicated efforts, to contribute to another local initiative that desparatly needs funding. I think this is the trophy, as legacy, that really counts when play is over for another year, and team-mates recall the season that was!

     From the archives: regarding the legacy of the Herald-Gazette Rink Rats, here are few memories for the scrapbook.

HARRY RANGER WAS THE KING OF THE RINK RAT HOCKEY CLUB

THE POOR GOAL-KEEP WAS DESTINED TO GAME AFTER GAME OF "HE SHOOTS HE MOSTLY SCORES"

     WHAT COULD YOU SAY, TO THE SMILING WEE LEPRECHAUN OF A MAN, LOOKING UP AT YOU WITH THAT PUZZLED LOOK THAT SAID, WITHOUT THE NEED FOR A SINGLE SPOKEN WORD…., "WHAT? I DIDN'T DO THAT!" FOR THE RECORD, YES HE DID! HE DID THESE KIND OF THINGS ALL THE TIME. BUT ONLY TO THE PEOPLE HE REALLY CARED ABOUT. TRUTH IS, WE KIND OF LOOKED FORWARD TO HIS HORSE PLAY, BECAUSE IT WAS ALWAYS IN GOOD FUN.

     YOU COULD HAVE RESTED YOUR ELBOW ON THE TOP OF HIS HEAD, IF YOU HAD WANTED TO…..AND HE WOULD HAVE LAUGHED IT OFF.  BASHFULLY GLANCING UP AT YOU, WITH THOSE DEEP, TWINKLING EYES, IT WOULD COME AFTER HE HAD JUST GIVEN YOU A "WET WILLY?" WHICH OF COURSE WAS A WET FINGER….. HIS FINGER, HAVING BEEN IN HIS MOUTH, BEFORE BEING STUCK IN YOUR EAR. THAT'S ONE OF THE FIRST MEMORIES THAT CAME TO MIND, WHEN BRANT SCOTT READ MY EMAIL THIS MORNING. HIS REPLY BACK THIS EVENING, WAS AS A FORMER TEAM-MATE AND PRINT-INDUSTRY COLLEAGUE, WHO HAD PUT UP WITH THESE PRACTICAL JOKES EVERY DAY FOR YEARS. I HAD LET BRANT KNOW THAT OUR MUTUAL FRIEND, RINK RAT HALL OF FAMER, HARRY RANGER, HAD PASSED AWAY EARLIER THIS WEEK, AT HOME IN BARRIE. 

     SO HERE'S A HOCKEY STORY TO HEAD-UP THIS LITTLE MEMORIAL TRIBUTE TO A FALLEN RINK RAT.

    WHEN HERALD-GAZETTE COLUMNIST, BRANT SCOTT, ("A WEE BISCUIT" WAS ALWAYS MY FAVORITE OF HIS COLUMNS), CAME INTO THE NEWSROOM, TO SEE ME, ALL ENTHUSED THAT WE HAD JUST GOT A HOCKEY GIG FOR OUR NEW MEDIA TEAM, I WAS AGHAST, BUT DIDN'T WANT TO SHOW MY FRIGHT RIGHT AWAY. IT COULD WAIT. I KNEW THE TEAM HE WAS TALKING ABOUT, AND THEY WERE JUST SHY OF N.H.L CALIBRE. I LISTENED IN AWE, BUT MOSTLY FEAR! HE WAS TELLING ME, WHAT HE THOUGHT WAS GOOD NEWS, THAT WE HAD A HOCKEY GAME REQUEST, TO PLAY UP IN THE VILLAGE OF MACTIER; WITH A TEAM SO HUNGRY, IT ATE THE COMPETITORS WHOLE. NOT EVEN ANY LEFTOVERS FOR THE MINOR TEAMS TO FEED OFF. MY FIRST JOB AS A CUB REPORTER, WAS FOR THE GEORGIAN BAY-MUSKOKA LAKES BEACON, IN UPTOWN MACTIER. I WENT OUT FOR A GAME OF PICK-UP WITH THE SAME TEAM, IN THE EARLY WINTER OF 1979, AND PLAYED THREE PERIODS OF NET. IT WAS A SIXTY MINUTE HORROR THAT UNFOLDED THAT NIGHT, WITH FOUR MAN BREAK-AWAYS ALL THE TIME. I WAS BLACK AND BLUE ALL OVER, FROM SLAP SHOTS FROM EVERY ANGLE ON THAT SHEET OF ICE. WHEN THEY ASKED ME OUT FOR A SECOND NIGHT OF HORROR, I POLITELY DECLINED. I WASN'T HEALED FROM THE FIRST EVENING OF HOCKEY-RUGBY. 

     I IMMEDIATELY RESPONDED, "THAT'S GREAT BRANT, BUT HOW ARE WE GOING TO GET HARRY UP THERE? I'M NOT PLAYING NET AGAINST THOSE GUYS, EVER." IT WAS BACK IN THE EARLY 1980'S. WE HAD JUST ORGANIZED A NEWSPAPER SPONSORED HOCKEY TEAM, AND HONESTLY FIGURED WE KNEW WHAT WE WERE DOING. HARRY RANGER KNEW HOW BAD WE WERE, BECAUSE AS IT WAS SAID OF HIM, IN THOSE DAYS, "HE HAD MORE RUBBER LANDING ON HIM THAN THE RUNWAYS OF TORONTO'S AIRPORT." THAT WAS TRUE. BUT YOU KNOW, AFTER THE GAMES WE GOT POUNDED, A FEW BEERS LATER ON, ALWAYS SEEMED TO EMPOWER US, TO MAKE BIGGER AND MORE DARING CHALLENGES. THE PROBLEMS ASSOCIATED WITH THIS, WERE THAT A FEW OF OUR BETTER PLAYERS, REALLY DIDN'T LIKE BEING HUMILIATED EVERY GAME WE PLAYED. SO WE WERE FORCED TO LIE TO THEM, IN ORDER TO GET A FULL TEAM OUT. SO BRANT AND I, IN THE MIDDLE OF A WORK DAY AT THE NEWSPAPER, TRIED TO FIGURE A WAY OF SOFT-SELLING IT TO HARRY, SO HE WOULD AGREE TO MAKE THE TRIP. HE WAS OUR GOALIE AND NO ONE……AND I MEAN NO ONE, WOULD VOLUNTEER TO STRAP ON THE OLD PADS. I WAS A CAREER GOALIE AND I EVEN REFUSED. I WOULD RATHER HAVE BEEN A HALF ASS FORWARD THAN A BEAT-UP GOALIE. SO MUCH FOR HARRY.

     WE CONVINCED THE KINDLY, GENTLE, DIMINUTIVE OLDTIMER, THAT THE MACTIER CLUB WAS GOING TO LEND US A FEW PLAYERS, AND HE WOULDN'T HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT THE NORMAL RINK RAT FARE, OF BEING PUMMELED ALL GAME LONG. IN RETROSPECT, AND BY THE WAY, I DID APOLOGIZE FOR LIEING TO HIM…., HARRY DID COME WITH US, AND HE BELIEVED OUR COVER STORY RIGHT UP UNTIL THE PUCK DROPPED, AND HE COULD CLEARLY SEE THE RINK RATS WERE SPORTING THE SAME WAYS, THE SAME INCOMPETENCE, AND THAT WAS NOT GOOD FOR HIM.

     AT ONE POINT IN THE FIRST PERIOD, WHEN HE COULDN'T SEE BECAUSE THERE WAS SO MUCH SWEAT DRAINING INTO HIS EYES, DRIPPING DOWN THE LEATHER OF THE MASK, HE SAID TO ME, IN A SHORT HUDDLE IN THE CREASE…."CURRIE, YOU SON OF BITCH. YOU LIED TO ME AGAIN."  LIKE THE RINK RATS WERE FAMOUS FOR, WE STARED INTO THE DRAGON'S DEN, LAUGHED AT ADVERSITY, WHACKED OUR STICK SHAFTS AGAINST HARRY'S TORN PADS (THAT ALWAYS SHED HORSE HAIR ON THE ICE) AND SAID, WITH CONVICTION, "HARRY, WE'RE MOUNTING A COME-BACK. HANG IN THERE." AS WE WENT BACK INTO THE NEXT FACE OFF, HARRY COULD BE HEARD MAKING SOME PACT WITH GOD, OR FOSTER HEWITT, TO SURVIVE LONG ENOUGH TO GET BACK INTO THE LOCKER ROOM…..FOR THE BEER HE MAY, OR MAY NOT HAVE HAD, TUCKED INTO HIS SHOE FOR MORAL SUPPORT. AT ONE POINT IN THE THIRD PERIOD, WE SAW ALL THESE MACTIER LADS DOING CARTWHEELS, AND PIROUETTES BEFORE FALLING TO THE ICE. HAROLD SHER, A FIGURE SKATING STAR ON HIS OWN, TOLD HARRY TO STOP TRIPPING THEM, OR THEY'D BEAT THE REST OF US UP. "I'M NOT TRIPPING THEM," HARRY YELLED AT HAROLD, "IT'S THE DAMN HORSE HAIR AND STRAW COMING OUT OF MY PADS. IT'S ALL OVER THE FRONT OF THE NET." HEY, IT WORKED FOR US, AND IT'S HOW WE SPRUNG HAROLD FOR OUR ONLY GOAL IN THE GAME.

     I THINK HE LOST TEN POUNDS THAT GAME, AND YOU KNOW, THE LITTLE FELLOW STOPPED AT LEAST HALF THE SHOTS ON NET, AND ALTHOUGH ARGUABLY THE SCORE WAS A LITTLE BIT LIKE, WHAT YOU'D SEE IN BOLD LIGHT, ON A FOOTBALL JUMBOTRON, WE RINK RATS GAVE OURSELVES A LOT OF GOODWILL POINTS, FOR JUST MAKING IT TO THE FINAL BUZZER, WITHOUT HAVING TO RAISE THE WHITE TOWEL OF SURRENDER. "I'LL NEVER BELIEVE ANOTHER THING YOU TELL ME CURRIE," SAID THE WHIPPED RINK RAT NETMINDER, AS HE MADE A BEE-LINE FOR THAT FLASK OF COLD ALE. BREEZING PAST THE REPORTER, ME, WHO WAS ALSO COVERING THE GAME FOR THE HOMETOWN PRESS. THE HEADLINE WOULD READ, "MACTIER LIONS EAT RINK RATS FOR GOOD CAUSE." I KNOW. I DROPPED THE "B." HEY, IT WAS A FEATURE COLUMN IN GOOD FUN, ALTHOUGH HARRY WAS TRYING TO LAUGH IN THE DRESSING ROOM, NOTHING WAS COMING OUT, BUT A SPITTING, SPUTTERING DIATRIBE THAT SOUND LIKE, "YOU BASTARDS!" HIS LONG TIME FRIEND AND NEIGHBOR, ALISTAIR TAYLOR, WHO MAY HAVE CONTRIBUTED TO AT LEAST FIVE OF THE THIRTY GOALS, BY ACCIDENTALLY CLEARING THE PUCK INTO OUR OWN NET, WAS TRYING TO CAJOLE THE TWO INCH SHORTER "HARRY" BUT NO PROMISES WERE HAVING ANY IMPACT, EXCEPT WHEN HIS PRAYERS WERE ANSWERED; "FOR GOD'S SAKE MAN, GET ME ANOTHER BEER."

ALWAYS A CHEERFUL FORMER GOALIE

     As regular visitors to this blog site will recognize, my heart never left its position with the old Herald-Gazette, in Bracebridge. It was my dream job. My friends were there, and that included Harry and his wife Sheila, who worked in our printing shop, then known as Muskoka Graphics; tucked into the dank, ink-scented rear part of the familiar thin, white, two story building, on Dominion Street; looming so pure and historic, at the intersection with Quebec Street. It was a job I looked forward to, each morning, and I didn't mind staying late. I would spend part of each day chatting with the printing staff, including Jimmy Wright, another master of the machines, and one of the Rink Rat founders. I was mesmerized by the printing machines, and Harry would patiently describe the process, and what they were working on, at the time. He had a smile and an anecdote every time we visited, and honestly, and conveniently, he could play me like a cheap violin. He had a great sense of humor, and he loved to play practical jokes on me, (and Brant) and I was a "sucker," taking the bait every time…..only to look around, and notice all the other staff killing themselves laughing. I may have reminded him of this cajoling, when I had that goal-crease meeting with him, in MacTier. "Hell if you can't take a joke Harry," I probably uttered, in one of about fifteen retreats, trying to convince him to stay in the game. I told the lads on the bench we might have to duct tape him to the posts, because he was talking about pulling himself for a sixth attacker. And this was only the first period. I told him that night, that even if he was to expire in the middle of the game, we would have to fake-it, and prop him up against the cross-bar until the final buzzer. "Currie, I'm quitting this team," he'd mumble, as I skated away laughing. You could hear him hitting the goal-posts with his stick, and I knew those chops were for my benefit. He was thinking of my shins at the time.

     My proudest moment, was when I was asked to attend a Loveable Losers Hockey Tournament, in the late 1990's, a tournament still run by the Rink Rats in Bracebridge, and was asked, during the opening ceremonies, to come out to centre ice for a special presentation. There I was, side by side my two great Rink Rat chums, from the original Herald-Gazette years, Ed Kowalsky, and Harry Ranger. We were there to receive our official retirement sweaters, with names on the back, and a rousing testimonial by Gord Dawes and Ed Renton, for our years of service to fundraising in the community, and hopefully good sportsmanship toward others. I looked down at Harry's little bald head, wrapped my arm around it, and whispered, "I'm sorry you old fart, for hauling your ass to MacTier that time." He looked up, with a huge smile, and very softly, replied, "God will get you one day Ted….and when he does……"

     God got Harry first. My old hockey and work buddy, passed away on Monday evening, after a brave battle with lung cancer. On Monday night, I actually thought about Harry, and the Rink Rats, for no apparent reason, yet I think now, he was letting me know he had moved on from this mortal coil, ready for the next challenge of existence. As I do very much believe in the after-life, and our ability to communicate with those who have crossed over, I'm talking to him already, and well, begging him to go lightly on me, when it's my turn to head heavenward. He'd relish the idea that I'd be worrying about this…..sensing that even in heaven, there can be a little hell going on…..and that even God likes the occasional practical joke; within reason of course. He might lose that heavenly finger, or be sent back to earth as a porcupine, if he tries a wet willy on the big guy.

     Harry used to love telling me that he was related to Toronto Sun columnist Paul Rimstead, from up Sudbury way, and therefore, having him and Rimmer up there, means God's got a full compliment of jokesters to make the heavenly experience even more heavenly.

     I wish to extend my heartfelt sympathy to the Ranger family. Harry had an amazing life force within, and a goodness that I felt in my heart, even after many years of being distant from one another. That was the aura of Harry Ranger, and it was as infectious as it was beautiful. I have known a lot of characters in my day, who influenced me in my writing career, but very few have had the impact of Harry Ranger…..a good sport through and through. A kindred spirit who gave more than he ever received…..but he was happy to do so.

     I even helped Harry and Sheila, and the residents of Balsam Chutes, save the old Stephenson Road bridge, back in the 1980's, that had once been the bridge over the rapids at Bird's Mill in Bracebridge. After it had been replaced, it was rebuilt over the Muskoka River, on the Stephenson Road. It was a beautiful old bridge but it was in structural distress, and neither Huntsville or Bracebridge had an appetite for paying for the repairs; as it was a town-line structure in a sparsely populated area. It was only a couple of football field lengths from Highway II. If the bridge was closed, it would have meant a much longer drive out to Highway II7, and then north and south on Highway II. It was done this way in the winter because the hill on the highway side, across the bridge, was a monster that couldn't be plowed in the winter season. Well sir, little Harry and his team of Save Our Bridge residents, fought the good fight, and saved the old bridge. Even though it was serious business, we had a lot of fun working on it together. You just couldn't work with Harry, even for a minute and a half, and then say the experience was unremarkable.

     We are all better, kinder humans for having known Harry Ranger, goaltender extraordinaire!