1st Men's Pan American Cup |
| June 16-18: Rick Roberts | June 19: Robin D'Abreo | June 20: Tom Green | ||
| June 21: Bob Dunlop | June 22: Paul Wettlaufer | June 23: Hari Kant |
the team has not been able to send back their traditional diary... |
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Peter Milkovich reaches CONGRATULATIONS PETER !
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This day began early with a 7:00 am wakeup. It's our second game in a row and second at 10:30 in the morning. Most games are played in the afternoon, so although we practice in the morninig a lot, the preparation for a morning game is different, there is much less time to get an early meal or have any meetings.
After a short walk, breakfast was at 7:15. The freezing cold air conditioning of the dining room shocked the sleep out of my system. The highlight of breakfast was the freshly squeezed orange juice. There is a huge OJ machine which they keep dumping boxes of oranges into the top. The oranges are sorted, cut, squeezed and strained automatically giving us unlimited amounts of OJ!
Time to pack for the game. I have been putting the gear on the balcony to dry it up in the Cuban sun. Once again, it was nice and dry and ready to play. Such a change from the recent weather we have had in Vancouver for the last couple of training camps, where my pads would stay wet for the full duration.
Traffic on the way was unusually good, so we arrived early and caught the end of the USA - Mexico match (6-0). Warmup was good, as it always is in the heat and the match vs. Chile started on time.
We played a close 3-2 victory. Chile was inspired by the Cuban upset over the Argies the day before, but despite our average play, we got ourselves the three points. Everybody was dissapointed with the game during the bus ride back, but the coach cheered us up quickly by announcing a trip to the beach for the afternoon! Just what the doctor ordered!
The beach was awesome! Beautiful sand and nice warm water. We had the next two days off,
so there was little worry about getting too much sun or getting too tired. Guys swam, read,
tanned, walked and watched the locals living it up. Ramon, our bus driver, shocked us all
with his brief Speedo bikini bottoms, he must have been wondering why most of our bathing suits
went past our knees.
Dear diary, I can only begin to describe the atmosphere and excitement brought with the anticipation of tournament time. After a couple of intense practice sessions to get the juices flowing, we were ready for any one. As I looked around there was no doubt we were ready for action!
Our first opponent was the lowly 13th floor, headlined by the surprisingly average play of the big man Prasad (infighting and an "I" in their team contributed to their inevitable demise...). As expected the three point assassins of the fourth floor showed their superiority in brushing aside their first opponent in pool basketball. It was an overwhelming display of penetrating interior passing punctuated by an unholy barrage of devilishly accurate outside shooting. Our performance was highlighted by spontaneous emulation of an orca pod at the rubbing beaches of Robson Bite. However, the apparent threat of de-existification has not silenced the inane chatter of the Wild Thing's 6th floor posse... More to follow!
In other news, the fourth floor continued its sporting dominance by tallying three of Canada's nine markers in its opening fixture as they took on an undermanned Jamaican side.
Extra! Extra! Read all about it: SOBE beverages have been found to contain ginseng! For further information, consult the precedent setting case of Gacek vs. Prasad of June 2000.
Today I am honored to be the first staff member to grace the pages of the players tour diary. Since we physios rarely get the spotlight we so richly deserve I will do my best to make High River proud!
Wednesday dawned clear and warm with the airport boys enjoying their second day in their own cloths. The breakfast high was the OJ from the fresh squeezer machine, complete with shapely attendant. The low was the lumpy milk which only a few of us are brave/foolish enough to drink. Most of the talk around the table concerned our sport psychologist complete loss of composure during a "friendly" pool volleyball match. I am sure that the resulting loss of credibility is only temporary.
As we journeyed to the pitch, all evidence of the previous days flood was gone. One of the startling features of Havana is the lack of commercial activity. Stores are simple and very few signs or billboards of any kind adorn the buildings. One small shop near the pitch has two plastic pails as the focal point of its Spartan window display.
After the practice, I slipped across to the small street market. Rows of stalls with thatched roofs contained a wide variety of fresh produce, beans and spices. Two pretty young ladies at one fruit stand were very happy to pose for my camera. While I was thanking my models, an elderly man tapped me on the shoulder with a mango. His old rusty wheelbarrow full of mangos was parked in the center of the row with a little wooden crate behind it. He sat on the crate with a big smile and a mango held aloft in each hand. This could well be my best photo since the child pita vendors in Cairo!
The butcher stalls at the back of the market were a rather grisly sight. Long rows of various animal parts hung in the 30 degree heat covered in flies. Despite the failure to follow any western food hygiene principles, people seem happy enough to buy the stuff. As I walked past, I shot a couple of photos of a man trimming spare ribs and tossing the scraps to a small pack of scrawny street dogs.
In the evening, I attended the tournament directors meeting with Peter, Shiaz, Bubbli and Navin. This meeting was no more or less painful than most of its kind I have witnessed. The bright spot was having a chance to catch up with our old friend Shiv Jagday. I believe Shiv is the kindest man I have ever met. He has enriched all our lives well beyond the small world of international hockey.
Following the meeting, I treated a few players with small injuries. I participated in the usual mixed bag of treatment room conversation: bone growth on dental implants, why farts smell, evolution after bipedal locomotion and how to snap a towel to make the loudest noise. Variety is indeed the spice of life!
After the treatment sessions, I settled down to read my English translation of the writings of Ernesto "Che" Guevara. Paintings of Companero Che are so numerous throughout the city one cannot help but be a little curious. It is clear from his writings that the overthrow of the Batista regime only came about by complete dedication to the cause. Regardless of how you feel about his method or the outcome, he appears to have been a brave and intelligent man fighting to liberate his people from a powerful oppressor.
Perfect finish to the day with a call from Vicki my wife and our children. I am told that Jingles the clown came to visit the preschool. Thomas said she was magic and Emma said she was Wacky. All of a sudden Havana didn't seem so far from High River.
Man Vs. Nature.
The Canadian team stuck in a dicey situation
running low
on unread Maxim magazines.
(There was a storm as well). Read on!
Tuesday the 20th was to be our last double practice day. These are the long, busy days at the beginning of a tour that we all love so much. Following morning practice, we enjoyed lunch, a nap and then back on the bus for session #2. What followed has not been seen before and may not be seen again.
We boarded our trusty chariot unworried by the few dark clouds aloft. Little did we know, these few clouds were but a harbinger of things to come. You see, Cuba, being a somewhat tropical country, is prone to afternoon rainstorms. At departure I was confident in Romon (our bus driver, come general supplier of all things entertaining) and settled into my book which quickly lulled me to sleep. About 20 minutes from the field, I was stirred from sleep by thunder, lightning, rain and mounting chaos. Soon traffic stood still, the water quickly rising to a crest higher than the bumpers of most cars. The water, flowing unceasingly over the curb and hiding the road side ditches soon looked more like the great grey green greasy Limpopo river, all set about with fever trees. With traffic at a standstill and practice out of the question we turned to the real life drama being played out just a thin window pane away. We watched as cars got stuck in potholes, vans drove into invisible ditches and drivers of stalled cars stopped to wring out their socks out their windows.
All those at home have no fear. Eventually the storm passed over and the Canadian lads had narrowly escaped mother natures violent grasp (well not really). Ramon got things going and we took the scenic route home for a reassuring meal and a good rest.
The day began with an annoyingly early 7:00am wake up call. At breakfast, it was obvious that myself and the rest of the "Airport Crew" (the guys whose luggage did not make the trip with them) were still suffering from the effects of our disastrous ordeal two nights ago (we had been to the airport twice, at 2:00am and again at 6:30am to try and find our lost luggage...).
The morning practice was completed without incident and the team then headed to the airport yet again (the crews fifth trip in less that three days!), to try and get our bags back. The "word" was that they would be on "the morning flight" but we had heard that story before. As the Crew exited the bus to cheers and well wishes from team-mates we tried not to get too excited, fearing that our hopes would again be crushed.
We entered the baggage claim area to find it completely empty except for a bunch of bags unclaimed by a Doctor Gonzales that had been there for the last two days. Shiaz immediately went over to the Lacsa counter while the rest of us sat on the baggage belt fantasizing about clean underwear, shoes that fit and playing with our own sticks.
A few minutes passed and then... without warning, the silence was broken by
the unmistakeable squeak of a baggage cart being pushed around the corner toward us.
The bag on the top was unfamiliar, but below it... could it be?.. I
screamed:
The only casualties of the whole ordeal were a zipper on one of the team bags and Rick´s hotplate. A small price to pay for clean underwear!!
Relationship with Cuba re-kindled
Down in Mosh's and Giff's room with Wetts, Gac (who is checking out something swank), Kumar and Ronnie. I stayed up until 2am the night before we had to be at the airport at 7am, trying to stuff into my bag all the food Wetts and I had bought at Costco. I managed to cram it all in but I almost put my back out the next morning trying to get the bag out of my apartment, into the taxi, into the airport, etc...
Upon our arrival in Toronto, we took the airport shuttle to the Ramada, site of the Ramada Mile. You all would not believe how far we had to carry our bags in order to get the to our rooms! I would not be exaggerating if I said that we had to tug and carry all our bags through six hundred metres of corridors. What was even worse was that we had to haul them back to the lobby on Saturday morning at 4:30am!
Friday evening, we went to Ajay Dube's place. Griff and I manned the barbeque ( Griff is British, so it was more like I was telling him what to do and he was only too happy just to be there to object!) and we really did do very, very well. The only other thing that rivalled our miracle, in terms of team interest, was the day-long debate that kept Milkovich on his cell phone, airport pay phones and the Ramada house phone, which seemed to involve a cleaning bill on the home-front and will be instrumental in teaching him that sometimes a man must bow his head and say "Honey, you do what you think is best."
Our first major obstacle arose when, as we began check-in procedures at the desk of Costa Rica's National Airline at 5am Saturday, we were informed that no bag would be checked that weighed more than 36 kilos. Wetts and I began to sweat huge bullets. We were well over the limit!!! However, teamwork prevailed and although the team gained a few extra bags in the process, we were all under the limit and they accepted all our bags into the bowels of Lester Pearson. But(!) trouble followed shortly thereafter when many of the boys observed a luggage trolley loaded exclusively with team-Canada's legal weigh-ins approach the plane and then suddenly pull a U-turn and head back to the terminal... This is where all the great memories of Cuba came flashing back! Obviously, half the bags did not show up on the turnstile in Habana International. Oh Joy! And Oh Boy!!! It wasn't only the weather that was heating up! So we waited around for a long time, too long, and then tried to leave with the bags we had. But no, we couldn't leave because they would not allow us to enter the country with our hot plates, which we all bought especially for this occasion. Well... we debated that one for another half hour until Shiaz signed a form saying that we would not leave any of the hotplates in Cuba. Heaven forbid that!!!
Word was that the missing bags would arrive at 2:30am Sunday morning. So, those of us with missing bags met in the lobby at 2am to take a bus to the airport. Shiaz was amazingly cool through this entire process and should be commended. What should have been a short and routine journey became so much more when we ventured off the main road and a tour of the back roads of rural Cuba in the pitch dark began. We weren't quite sure what we were doing, but after a 15 minute wait in the middle of no-where, an official from the Cuban Hockey Federation emerged, much to our relief. Arriving at the airport a long time later, we scanned the busy arrival board and saw that the flight we were waiting for was very late and was not expected to arrive until approximately 5am... Shiaz and the officials had an espresso and then we loaded back into the bus and passed out.
I think we got back to the hotel at around 4am and determined that we would meet again at 6am in the lobby to try again. And at 6 am we did meet and promptly passed out again on the bus. The flight had actually arrived. So we entered the arrival area with high hopes but... Again, no darn trace of our bags... What can I say!!! Shiaz spent a long time conversing with some officials from all areas of the Cuban Airlines system for the next hour and a half. We all had an espresso and searched for a way to turn this all into a positive. We couldn't really do it but the fact that we tried was novel enough. We made it back to the hotel at 10am and passed out until noon when we met poolside and promptly got wet and played a little volleyball. My team (Mosh, Ronnie, Jagday and I) kicked ass! Ha!!!
The latest on the bags is that they will be in the airport at ten tomorrow. Do you believe it? I don't know if I do either.
We had a great practice this afternoon and let me tell you, that was a very good thing!!!
Changing the subject, please allow me to put in a couple of plugs:
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