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Not a lot of life’s milestones achieve 25 years anymore. Jobs at the same employer rarely endure that long, let alone careers. People rarely live in the same apartment, same home for a quarter of a century. And fewer couples are attaining their silver wedding anniversary.
So I’m pretty proud that the little pick-up road hockey game I started with some buddies one fall morning 25 years ago is still going on. In fact, it may rank as one of my life’s achievements.
Over the years, generations of players have come and gone; only two of us remain from that inaugural match.
We’ve played through all kinds of weather. We’ve survived injuries, bad feelings, spells of complacency, goalie crises, shoddy equipment, no equipment and even the occasional locked-up court.
Through it all, we’ve been driven by the game’s spirit of camaraderie, the joy of competition without consequence, the connection we forge with the changing seasons and passing years, the pursuit of lasting youth.
Most of the games have been documented by renowned road hockey beat reporter and photographer Jay Suburb; first in a photocopied handout, The Road Hockey News, then on a Geocities website, Road Hockey Illustrated, and for the past 13 years on the blog, roadhockey.net.
Sunday, we officially opened Sunday Morning Road Hockey’s silver anniversary season.

Quick shots a victorious recipe for undermanned team in season opener

Colonel’s languid attempt to wrap a shot around from the back of the net past Joker’s outstretched pad late in the game may have been the longest anyone on his team possessed the ball Sunday.

And while he didn’t score on that play, the wily veteran and his mates used quick crisp passes and timely shots to overwhelm their opponents 15-10 in Sunday’s regular season opener.

Playing without the benefit of a spare player to shift off for refreshed legs, Colonel and his mates kept the pressure on all game by keeping the evil orange plastic ball moving, even if their feet weren’t. That kept their opponents on the run, and Joker on his heels.

“Our passes were a little crisper, our shots were a little faster,” said Colonel. “Sometimes all you need is that extra split second and they go in as opposed to not going in.”

Joker admitted he had trouble tracking the ball at times as it moved quickly back and forth between the opposition’s stick blades.

“They were one-timing shots, and we were taking our time.”

The up-tempo playmaking was rewarded by a quick 5-2 advantage. But Colonel and his mates were wary to keep the pressure on.

“We came out pretty fast, but we learned pretty quick the game would go on for a while,” said the veteran centreman. “We had to keep our noses down and take chances when there were opportunities.”

Joker said his side’s man advantage may have kept their legs fitter but dulled their mental sharpness. Knowing they might be able to outlast their opponents in a longer game, played hung onto the ball, made the extra pass, moved the ball around the court more before taking a shot.

“We were taking our time,” said Joker. “We were accepting the pass and then setting up to shoot as opposed to shooting right away.”

That gave Lak Attack ample time to set up for saves. And, but for a brief lull in the second period, he was equal to the task.

That lull coincided with the underdog’s renewed effort sparked by Joker’s temper tirade  after successive goals stretched the lead even further. Kid, Bam Bam and even a pair by the Living Legend pulled the underdogs to within a goal, 10-9, at the second break.

But that was as close as they got.

A year ago I walked out of a newsroom for the last time.

Oh sure, there have been social visits to other newsrooms, even a couple of freelance gigs. But when the new owners of the Burnaby and New Westminster NewsLeaders decided to pull the plug and end the illusion of competition with their established papers they’d maintained for six months, I knew my 31-year run as a newspaper journalist was done.

It’s been happening everywhere in our industry. As readers and advertisers abandon newspapers that can’t decide whether they want to be newspapers or low-rent TV stations because owners have no idea how to harness the internet, reporters, photographers and editors are being kicked to the curb by closures, layoffs and buyouts. Many of us are senior, experienced leaders in our newsrooms with years of institutional knowledge, deep connections in the communities we cover. Management regards that as a burden on their bottom line. For readers and advertisers it’s a tragedy, as they lose voices they’ve come to trust and appreciate. And so the swirl down the drain accelerates.

Journalists don’t just wear their journalism jacket when they’re on the clock. You live and breathe it 24/7; when you watch the evening news, surf the web, read the work of other journalists, you do it through the prism of journalism. You have an appreciation and respect for the work it took to tell a story.

As a photographer my head was always on a swivel as I drove around town, keeping an eye out for something new or different that might be newsworthy or could make a good photo.

I still do that.

As recently as five years ago, I could never have imagined myself not being employed as a journalist. But as the dominoes of our industry began falling all around and parties for parting colleagues became more frequent, the possibility became more and more real.

Still, we forged on, the stress of uncertainty roiling our bellies even as we put out good papers with fewer resources and increasing demands on our time to feed the internet beast even if it never reciprocated our attention to its insatiable demands; of the hundreds of crappy videos our newsroom produced for our websites, I don’t recall ever seeing one second of advertising pre-roll.

When the hammer dropped, it fell with a thud of inevitability.

Not that that made it any easier. Denial is a powerful coping mechanism. It’s also extremely exhausting. When our fate was sealed, it was as liberating as it was frightening.

As far as I know, most of my NewsLeader colleagues are working again. Some of us are still finding our legs in new professions, learning new skills. We’re moving forward, instead of hanging on for dear life.