Accidental Rock Star
For two short minutes, I felt the thrill of holding that crowd in the palm of your hand.
It was like the summer of love before the fall and loss of innocence that were the 1970's, a moment in time when everything was good. Vancouver had just come off hosting the greatest winter party of all time, that billion dollar bash they called the 2010 Olympics, where we won actually the Holy Grail of sporting events (for Canadians that is), Olympic Gold Hockey and at home to boot, and in overtime to make it exciting. And don’t just take my world for it, ESPN called it the game of all ages, and proclaimed there would never be another like it, and watch for yourself the outcome when Sidney Crosby’s golden goal found the back of the net. For Canadian’s this is equivalent of winning the Superbowl, World Series, and the NBA Championship all in one moment. Some moments are truly life altering, and for many winning Men’s Gold Hockey at home is what it’s all about. We are not compulsive or anything, but even our Prime Minister just published a book about hockey and not politics. I can still vividly remember lacing up my son’s skates bleary eyed for a 5:00am practice, and looking over next to me, and here is this little old Indo Canadian grandmother in a sarong down on her hands and knees doing the same thing, you are not truly Canadian until you have accepted hockey into your life, but once you do, you are one of us. Now that’s multiculturalism Canadian style. Take that Jon Stewart!
But that’s a Canadian story and this story is about the Vancouver Canuck’s 2011 run for the Stanley Cup, a feat no Vancouver hockey team has accomplished since 1915, so as to say a feat no one actually alive has any real recollection (in fact they were called the Vancouver Millionaires then).
The Stanley Cup is said to be one of any professional sport’s hardest trophies to win. Firstly you start with sixteen teams entering the playoffs, giving you starting odds of less than a 7% chance to a win, then you have to actually win a minimum of sixteen games and play up to as many as twenty eight to hoist the cup. The point I am making is it’s tough, real tough, and many players spend an entire career and never once get to do it. Vancouver has tried, and been close, so very close. We tried in 1982 and lost, and again in 1994 and failed again, so this was our year, this was our chance at redemption and glory. 2011 had so much promise following up on the Olympics, we believed and wanted it so badly. We had Lou, we had the Sedins, and yet when it was all over and Boston had literally wrestled the victory from our grasp, and Vancouver was left burning in shameful riots, a new low we shall never forget descended upon us. This isn’t about that defeat, or the resulting disaster or embarassment that followed, it’s about game five Friday June 10, 2011, the last victory of that run, and the last time we won at home in Vancouver before the dream died. A game won on a single goal late in the third period by Lapierre, a game that didn’t launch a riot, but unleashed among a crowd of well over 100,000 on the streets of Vancouver a sense of euphoria and fellowship I had never experienced, and one I was just lucky enough to have been able to document with my camera. The resulting riot that followed less than a week later following the final defeat, dashed that evening and the victory experience, stripping away the emotional high and bragging rights for having just been there that night. Many of the pictures I am showing here have never been released because the resulting riot somehow tainted them and made them ugly in the eyes of the public. I think enough time has passed that we should be able to look back now and see that Game Five was what it was supposed to be about, how there was just as large of crowd, and just as much alcohol consumed in the streets, yet there there was no fights, no looting, no conflict, just people celebrating and reveling in the moment. Brother on brother love for the game. I want to be able to say I was there, and tell my kids I was proud to be apart of it.
We had started that day watching the game from a hotel suite overlooking the crowd filled streets below with city provided outdoor monitors by which the watched the game. It was just more comfortable and far easier to enjoy your drinks, and watch the game on a big screen TV yet be close to the action, but when Lapierre scored in the third period, we quickly decended to the streets and joined the crowds in anticipation of the tie breaking series win. Even the the numerous beers and several shots of tequila could not dull my instinctual clasp of my camera to my side as we immersed ourselves into the throng of this living growing crowd.
You could feel the energy in the crowd fuelled in part by alcohol but mostly just the adrenaline as the clock worked it’s way down to end the game, and give Vancouver a 3-2 series lead in a closely fought series, and moved us that much closer to the coveted Stanley Cup. The crowd went wild, this is what it was all about, this is what every sports fan dreams. Victory at home.
The crowd stirred and vibrated as one, the noise deafening as the cheers went out, and every siren, horn, and bell sounded across the city. And then strangely within ten to twenty minutes, and without any planned direction, the crowd as one slowly began moving west up Georgia. It was intimidating because it was so thick it covered the street side to side, building to building, across four lanes of traffic and sidewalks, it made no difference if you wanted to go or not, you were being carried along with the crowd and going where it took you. Instinctively I knew what was going on, we were moving to Robson Street, and likely Robson Square, a favourite gathering during the Olympics. As the crowd approached Granville Street you could literally feel it compress as it mergeed with a east bound mass of humanity approaching from the opposite direction, and yet another headed south along Granville Street. The crowd undirected merged, and turned as one and headed for Robson along Granville as if drawn by some unseen vacuum sucking it up to the centre of the universe.
It was here on that block of Granville approaching Robson, moments after having taken this above shot, that I spotted that structure you can just make out in the background, not a bus stop shelter but some kind of Hydro structure, quite tall, likely 14' or 15' in height. As we approached it and the crowd further compressed and neared stalling at the intersection of Robson and Granville Street as crowds from four different directions were merging here becoming deadlocked in the intersection. I suddenly realized I wanted to somehow get up above the crowd to take better pictures for I had never seen a crowd like this, not even during the hype and fanfare of the Olympics. How I even managed to still be even with one of my party I will never know but I grabbed Rob, and yelled in his ear over the roar of the crowd what I wanted of him, and like a trooper he didn’t hesitate, and forced his way through the crowd to the structure. There he vaulted me up first to his shoulders, and even then standing on his shoulders, it was only when I stepped off the top of his head that I finally managed to get a purchased with fingertips to the lip of the roof structure and struggled to pull myself precariously up the side enough to roll onto the roof top and finally catch my breath. I made it, I still remember being amazed.
As I stood high above the crowd below I pulled the camera out and instictively began snapping shots, before me was a sea of humanity I had never experienced, and I am someone who has been in big crowds, but this was in a closed urban environment and for as far as you could see it was plugged solid with this living moving press of bodies compressed together.
Initially only a few people very close even noticed me up atop the structure taking pictures, and a few cheered. I will never know why really, but I cheered back…….and then the crowd cheered back…….like 10,000 strong, and it was like a tital wave crashing on the shore. As I raised my hands above my head to take pictures and yell a nother cheer, so too did they roar back at me. Ok, wow, that’s kind of cool, let’s try it again the other direction.
The crowd was restless and looking for a release of the pent up energy they felt, and somehow unexpectedly I had become that release, and they roared their approval.
The moment was just so surreal, and for what was likely less than two minutes, I even stopped taking pictures and was just bellowing back at the crowd, turning from one way to cheer, and then the other. I was a rock star goading them on, and it was a high like no other (I am sure the tequilla was a factor, just as it had been in making me think it was a good idea of climb above the crowd). Funny how certain things just sound better after a few drinks than sober the next day.
So here I am turning one way and then the other throwing my hands up, and each time I turned the crowd would roar back louder than the last. I don’t know how I possibly ever heard him over the crowd, and likely didn’t for a period of time, but suddenly there several police at base of the structure, and one of them is doing a pretty good pantomime making it very clear he wants me to climb down and now, not later. I do recall thinking, if I don’t climb down, they are going to have a hell of a time trying to climb up (I can’t understate how hard it actually had been, and likely nothing I would have ever attempted sober). I mean I just wasn’t ready to surrender this crowd, this was intoxicating all in itself, for that moment in time this truly the was the centre of the universe, and really, you want me to get down? I just got here! But then thankfully, another part of my brain intervened and explained; if I don’t do what he want’s and quickly, I will likely be spending the night in a vomit filled drunk tank, and I am pretty sure that was what motivated me to get down. I turned and dropped over the edge to hang, and was preparing to let go and drop, but never got a chance as they jumped up and grabbed my feet to pull me down so I came crashing down in a tangle atop of them. All I can really recall is the cop pushing his face in mine and yelling so loud to be heard over the crowd I could feel the spray of his spittle on my face. I don’t recall everything he was yelling, something like “What the hell was I thinking, trying to get myself and others killed”, even something about my being old enough to know better (I mean that was insulting, because I can be old enough to know better and still conciously decide to do otherwise can’t I?). All I could think to say, and repeat was I was just trying to get a picture as I pulled my camera up to show him, well that and admitting that no I did not wish to go to jail, or spend the night there. I am trusting it was the wise decision to get down when I did that ultimately saved me. So as he released me, and allowed me to join my thankful comrades and the crowd again roared with approval, hands shot out from everywhere as people high fived me, and slapped me on the back. For as long as I live, I will remember a beautiful girl leaning in close and kissing me, and saying that was the greatest thing she’d ever seen. Wow…….the fact that she was likely drunk (or perhaps even high, as this was Vancouver after all), or that she obviously hasn’t seen a lot in her life, none of that mattered in the least to me. For at that point in time, I was a rock star, and that was pretty cool, accidental or not.
For the record Mr. Warhol, considering it was truly that intoxicating, I believe I have 13 minutes remaining, and damnit I want everyone of them. And to the girl who kissed me, thanks for instilling a memory that so beautifully burned its way into my synapses that I am writing this today, and I shall forever carry that forward for the rest of my days. Accidental or not, you made me feel like a rock star, and for that I am most greatful.
PS Vancouver lost the next two games straight……….and yet again, the dream died. The resulting riot was not the Vancouver I knew, I was 800km north when it happened, and like most people watched it play out on TV, but it was a select few with premeditation that took advantage of the situation and hijacked our fair city. Game Five, the last victory, was about brother loving brother, and sports fans living the dream, even if it ended up being one nightmare at a time. Lord Stanley’s Cup still evades Vancouver, but one day, we might see it held high, I just hope I live long enough.
So please think of us when Team Canada takes the ice in Sochi this year, and imagine an entire nation capable of collectively holding our breath awaiting victory. Win or lose, it will always be our game. Go Canada!
Want more of my pictures from that day?
Update: Vancouver beats Boston 6-2 Saturday Night December 14, 2013, Only the second time these two teams have met since Boston beat out Vancouver for the Stanley Cup, and the second time Vancouver beats Boston. C’est la vie!
