If H could only be hockey, than it follows W can only be Wayne “the Great One” Gretzky. As has been noted before, I’m from Edmonton (a fact for which my husband and children have forgiven me but I seem helpless to resist throwing in their faces with these public displays) so Wayne is a rich, complex subject.
He represents the hockey team that brought the Holy Grail, to town 4 times while he was playing. It wasn’t from his presence alone this feat occurred but those in town knew he was mostly the keystone around which a
winning team was built. There were a few who said a brick playing on Gretzky’s wing would end up in the list of top ten scorers for the year but that is more a reflection of their attitudes towards drafting players from Europe into a North American league.
For his brilliance on the ice and for making the Oilers the team everyone loves to hate, Edmontonians loved him.
I had moved to Victoria in 1982 and continued to cheer on my beloved team from this distant shore. And then it happened, the terrible day in 1988 Pocklington did the impossible, uniting all the rest of Canada with Edmonton in an act of betrayal nearly biblical in proportion. It was a moment of national disbelief
It’s easy to say it was a Yoko Ono moment, that the Missus was putting pressure on the
Gretz to take her out of hickville and back to the big smoke of Los Angeles so she could pursue her career once the baby was born. And, in her favour, I’ll say she did try to resume modelling and acting on the silver screen. I can’t offer any examples of her success because, well, let’s just leave it at that, shall we?
Maybe it’s because I was into watching Twilight Zone and Perry Mason re-runs but all I could picture for the future was a black and white scene, a living room with 60’s modern furniture, a stacked blonde in a white sleeveless blouse and tight grey skirt hemmed just above the knee. She’s leaning against the door frame, swirling an Old Fashioned glass half filled with ice and cheap burbon. She is looking past the camera, just to the right and down. She starts to move, a little unsteadily and when she speaks, even though there is a laugh, it is heavy, slurred and dripping with sarcasm,
“‘The Great One’…isn’t that what they used to call you?…Ha… that’s rich, look at you now…” stops, throws the contents of her glass in the direction of the man, off camera….
Yeah, I did watch a little too much Perry Mason.
As for the fellow who traded him away, Peter Pocklington, well, he was never a huge favorite in the ‘chuk. In 1982 both Pocklington and his wife were taken hostage at gunpoint in their house; the situation became extended stand-off with the police. The word spread through the city and the question on everyone’s mind was how much would the kidnapper accept to leave town and take Peter Puck with him.
Fortunately Wayne went on to prove me wrong. He has always been a gentleman and always done what he could to hold up his end of the deal. He coached the Canadian Mens gold medal team in 2002. There is some credit due the ice maker for the Men’s and Women’s Gold medals coming home as he placed a Canadian Loonie at centre ice ostensibly to provide a landmark while flooding the ice.
