Hockey vs. Baseball

This post is in honour of the 2008-09 season that starts in just a few short days. Originally, this piece was part of a bigger piece that extolled the virtues of Canada and used, only for comparison purposes, our neighbours to the south. This is not meant, in any way, to insult any American readers.


Hockey is to Canada what baseball is to the United States. There are Canadians who profess to dislike hockey, but I’m pretty sure they’re just kidding. A Canadian who doesn’t like hockey is like a college student who doesn’t like extra money; I’ve never met one, and I doubt they exist.

Americans, however, seem to prefer baseball. Baseball is very boring to watch. In baseball, the batting team spends most of its time sitting in a dugout and spitting out streams of tobacco. The players in the field spend most of their time crouched and ready to move in case the batter happens to hit the ball, which doesn’t happen that often. Sometimes, when the batter actually hits the ball and it’s flying out into the infield, he can run to first base. But usually, by the time the batter gets there, the first baseman is already holding the ball. Then the player is out and he has to go back to the dugout, sit down, and spit out streams of tobacco.

And then there is hockey. Hockey is two and a half hours of fast-paced, action-packed, sit-on-the-edge-of-your-seat excitement. Both teams play at the same time and skate so hard and so fast that each player only plays for about a minute at a time so he doesn’t get winded. Where baseball consists mostly of people standing still in one place, hockey is about constant motion. As columnist Andrew Coyne from the National Post writes, “It’s ice dancing, only with more bruises and fewer sequins.”

Speaking of bruises—hockey players are known for their bruises and scars and missing teeth. Baseball players are disabled by violent sneezes (Sammy Sosa), sleeping on their eyes funny (Chris Brown), and straining their elbows flipping sunflower seeds (Greg Harris). In May of 2006, during the playoff games, Oiler, Ryan Smyth was accidentally hit in the face with the puck. Smyth lost three teeth, cracked both lips, and after a quick trip to the locker room for stitches, was back in the game to score the winning goal in overtime. In 1964, Bob Baun of the Toronto Maple Leafs won the Stanley Cup playing on a broken ankle. We can see why we consider our hockey players so heroic. Hockey players play their game harder than anyone expects of them; baseball players miss games for accidentally rubbing chili juice in their eyes (Bret Barberie).

One of baseball’s advantages is that most of the players still have all of their teeth. Besides that very minor detail, hockey is, all around, the better sport.

Conscience got your tongue?

There are some subjects I’m just not allowed to write about because of who I am and where I come from. I make judgments from the hip and then awkwardly backtrack when I realize how ridiculous I sound. So it goes without saying there are just some topics I shouldn’t express opinions about.

I would love to pose solutions to fat people and rant about the inanities of dieting. But I’m not fat, I don’t diet, so I’d be a big fat hypocrite. I like to think I know about eating right and staying trim, but honestly, it’s just that I’ve managed to stay one step ahead of genetics and my metabolism. I don’t have big bones or put on festive weight. I don’t fear bikini season or skinny jeans. I’ll just keep my big mouth shut.

I’m also not allowed to tell poor people what to do. I’d really like to though. There’s nothing I like more than a Cinderella story where the underdog gets all the success and riches they rightly deserve. But that’s one of those perfect world scenarios. Most poor people don’t really fit into that formula, not with phrases like “economic strain,” “market recession,” and “financially challenged.” I can’t tell poor people what to do when I don’t know what any of those mean.

And I certainly can’t talk politics ‘cause I don’t know anything about politics. All I know is that I dislike Stephen Harper and his beady, little rat eyes. Never trust a man with beady rat eyes. Now some may say that crazy folk show too much eyeball, but I say those “crazy” people’s motives are far more transparent than the beady-eyed folk’s. I know the runaway bride is gonna plead insanity and that the cursing homeless dude is gonna spit at me, but I have no idea what Harper’s up to.

I would truly love to wank about society’s ills, but I can’t because I’ve got it pretty good already. Other people are closer to and more familiar with these ills than I am and so I’ll leave the arguments up to them.

I’ll just hold my tongue for now.

- Girl on the Corner (holding her tongue ever so gently)

Mr. Dressup vs. Mr. Rogers

Both Mr. Dressup and Mr. Rogers were popular children’s TV hosts. Their shows ran from the late 60s, and although both these men have since died, their shows have been seen by the current generation of children.

Fred Rogers and Ernie Coombs (Mr. Dressup) came to Canada from the United States in 1963 to develop a children’s show for CBC. Ernie Coombs liked working in Canada so much that he stayed here to work on a show called Butternut Square. His show, Mr. Dressup premiered in 1967. Fred Rogers appeared on CBC as well in the early 60s, then went back to the United States. His show premiered in 1968. Having seen both shows as a child, I can say without hesitation that Mr. Dressup was better.

Mr. Dressup would go into his Tickle Trunk every show and become a wizard, or a pirate, or a big, feathery bird; Mr. Rogers would go into his closet every show and change his shoes. Mr. Dressup was intelligent, fast-paced, and exciting; Mr. Rogers felt that preschoolers could not understand what was being said unless he spoke slowly. His website claims, “He leaves time for children to reflect and respond, and he takes time to prepare them for what will come next and to explain what has happened before.” Kids already know what happened—they were there. And when he “takes the time to prepare them for what will come next,” he is taking away the exciting element of surprise. Mr. Dressup was always part of the fun. He thought up the skit that he and his puppet friends would act out; he often showed us how to make the costumes at craft time, and on every single show, he let go of his pride to have fun with his viewers. Mr. Rogers actually made a point of never appearing in the Neighborhood of Make-Believe. According to his website, he felt that his young viewers would have a hard time sorting out who was a real person and who was make-believe. Funny that we Canadian kids didn’t have a problem figuring out the difference between make-believe and reality while watching Mr. Dressup.

Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood wasn’t all bad; he had some fun tours of factories, and the cranky puppet known as Lady Elaine was pretty entertaining. But when comparing the two, I think we can all agree that Mr. Dressup had the better show.