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November 5, 2002
A BIENTOT, CANADA
By Matt Petersen
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MONTREAL -- Parlez vous Francais? Okay, neither do I
really. Hello from Quebec where the French language
comes from everywhere, including the hockey. It feels
like we’re on a different planet, and it’s hard to
imagine that this is a hard core hockey town, it feels
like Paris.
First of all, what an amazing place. We’re set up in
the nicest hotel yet, perched on the 10th story with a
walk-out balcony overlooking the Centre Bell where the
Canadiens play. Our first night we watched the snow
fall as the pubs and cafe’s buzzed below us on
Crescent Street in Centre-Ville. Magnifique!
The night of the game was a good one although Jeff
became frustrated early on during our pre-game
interviews because no one wanted to stop and talk to
us. “I think it’s because I can’t speak French,” he
wondered. Eventually he warmed up to the locals and
before long he was talking hockey with them like he
was one of the boys.
Walking around the promenade before game time, Jeff
and I drew some interesting looks (and some big
laughs) because of our weird jerseys. We eventually
headed up to our $60 third balcony seats that made it
seem like we were watching the game from the moon --
the seats go up very steep, it was like we were
hanging onto the top of the cage in “Beyond
Thunderdome.”
Indeed, watching hockey in Montreal was like seeing a
game in outer space for us. Everything seems
different, the fans (the kids here love their disco),
the setup, the PA system that addresses the crowd
primarily in French, and the food (Jeff and Joe bought
hot dogs that were served up in little pieces of toast
for three bucks).
Even though we griped a little about our seats and the
fact that we had a hard time seeing the near boards,
everything was just fine because the action on the ice
was just fine. The St. Louis Blues are an impressive
bunch, and after the seeing the score see-saw in the
early going, the Blues pulled away in the third period
thanks to the solid contributions from Al MacInnis,
Pavol Demitra, and especially Doug Weight. We don’t
like the Blues all that much, but we’ll tip our cap to
a strong squad that is going to make a serious push
for the Cup.
After the game, we walked up a few blocks to the Upper
Deck sports bar to watch the Sharks/King game (5-2
Sharks!), and munched on some French food. It would be
our last night in Canada, so we decided on chicken
wings and beer. Our bartender Charles suggested we try
their “9-1-1 sauce” if we like it hot. “Just a dab,”
the waiter advised us in a very concerned manner, and
we each gave it a shot. Minutes later we were fanning
our tongues with our hands, and Joe (having taken the
most hot sauce) gulped a couple glasses of milk.
Sometimes being too macho doesn’t pay.
We said our good-byes to the gracious folks at the
Upper Deck and headed out into the gray Montreal
evening that would offer us some of our last sights of
Canada. I’ve said it a million times in the past few
days that I don’t want to leave Canada. The next day
we watched the Montreal skyline fade away from the 720
expressway as we headed toward another fantastic city
-- New York. Au revoir, mon amis.
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GAME #12 11/5/02
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