David Halberstam once referred to baseball as “the national binding myth.” That line can be applied with confidence to Hockey and Our Home and Native Land. Like baseball, hockey has a debatable origin story, dozens of historical events full of meaning and significance, as well as legendary players and characters that a nation has worshipped, vilified, and then told their descendants about. These moments and individuals are integral components of the Canadian fabric, as much a definer of our identity as two official languages, freezing winters, and a vast geography. Maybe even more. The Richard Riot. Kingston. Orr. Bobby Clarke’s teeth. Espo’s chastisement in ’72. Gretzky. Saturday night. Henderson has scored for Canada. Car…game on. The Three Stars. He shoots, he scores. Le but. The Gordie Howe hat-trick. Grapes. Zamboni. As Canadians, we know what each of these things mean. How they mean. We endow them with power by loading them with significance. Then they unite us. They are the ties that bind.

Which brings me to Ryan Smyth. Or as the entire country knows him, “Smytty.” I’ve thought long and hard about Smyth since he was traded to the New York Islanders on February 27th, 2007. Anyone who reads this site knows how little I cared for the trade, or the words uttered about him by Kevin Lowe, Pat LaForge, and far too may fans once he left town. Greedy. Not an elite player. Greedy. My feelings about such things have not changed. But that is neither here nor there, especially since I've moved past thinking about Smytty in that context. Lingering would drive me mad. Rather, I like to think about him as part of a bigger picture, within a grander context. I like to think about what Smytty means to me—what he signifies—and what I think he should mean and signify to all of us.

It is my own belief that Smytty is one of those key players, those legendary characters who tell our story and bind our nation. He matters to me, as he should to us all, a great deal. He matters because there are so few other professional players like him, and he matters because he is the most common man in our land. Thousands of Smytty’s exist throughout this country, and yet only one skates every night on NHL ice. He matters because he is the textbook definition, the Platonic Form, of “The Canadian Hockey Player.” What we know of him tells the tale.

The Local Boy: raised in Banff, Alberta; lifetime Oilers fan; run over by Glenn Anderson at a Team Canada training camp; drafted by his favorite team, for whom he would play for eleven and a half years.

The Number: 94.

Player Traits: hustle, skill and a child-like enthusiasm for the game; first guy on the ice at practice, last guy off.

Signature Moves: skating down the ice along the boards, going wide, then either staying along that track or swinging the stick over the head of the defenceman as he cuts back inside; in front of the net, poking, tipping, screening, driving the opposing goalie and defencemen insane.

The Look: mullet; missing teeth; more mullet.

The Moment: taking a puck to the face from teammate Chris Pronger in Game Three of the second round of the 2006 Stanley Cup Playoffs, with the Oilers down two games to none to the San Jose Sharks. Three teeth are knocked out, including one with the root. They are picked up and carried off by a linesman. He returns to the ice almost immediately, after getting stitched up. Plays twenty minutes of a forty-four minute overtime, eventually setting up the winning goal. The Oilers win the series in six.

The Interviews: gotta give 110% out there, hustle in the corners and hopefully the bounces will go our way.

The Patriot: Captain Canada. Seven World Championship appearances. Two gold medals, one silver medal. 2002 Olympics. Gold medal. 1995 World Junior Championships. Gold medal. 2004 World Cup of Hockey. Gold medal.

Smyth is still playing, of course. He hasn’t retired or passed on. But he’s a bit off the radar now, playing in Denver. He’s not on a Canadian team, or an American Original Six team, and as such now means less. Colorado, U.S.A is outside the myth-zone. Yet I can’t think of another current NHL player like him, a man who so perfectly epitomizes “The Canadian Hockey Player.” I don’t even think of him as a great player anymore, or a great character. I think of him as an ideal player, as an ideal character in the Great Canadian Hockey Story. And so, I think, should you. He wasn’t the first, and he won’t be the last. But he is the right now.


or...



I really, really miss my Smytty.

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[Sacamano Appendix]

I hope Andy doesn't mind me adding some thoughts here, but I figured it would be better than having two posts on the same topic.

Andy already hit all the right buttons for me, so I'll just add by posting my Smytty Sonnet #94, written just after the trade and posted originally in the CinO thread "I've got 94 problems, but Smyth ain't one of them".

Smytty Sonnet #94

So crude we drilled his heart, and crude distilled
Flowed from his eyes, tempered and dilute.
His labour deemed unskilled, instead rebuild
With cheaper lubricant that won't pollute.

The Oilers' Brass elected to go green
With virgin teen unsoiled by stinking oil
To cap the well that burst them on the scene
Return the heartland to its prairie soil

So riches of the north go down in flame
While southern flames rise up like northern lights
Smyth's combustion heart enkindles shame,
Though primed and set, no broken hearts ignite.

But! Baptismal fonts flow with oil refined,
And so, with oil, is Smyth's rebirth entwined.