Tempus Fugit (Time
Flies)
The day after the tournament, I’m
sitting in Pearson Airport’s departure lounge B9,
just like last year. Got the upgrade, like last year. Only
today the sun is shining, and everything looks to be on
time. Last year, 2007, an April tempest had inundated the
region, and flights to and from Newark were in chaos. We
eventually got in, lucky to have an aircraft, a crew, and
a stable flight path home between walls of wind and rain.
The exit I usually use from Newark airport was flooded,
its underpass awash in water. And the drive home through
New Jersey was treacherous – a combination of bad
weather, flooded highways, and NJ drivers.
So many of Shakespeare’s plays contain
scenes reflecting the Elizabethan view that abnormal occurrences
in Nature are omens of coming abnormalities in the world
of man. Well, in 2007 that was true enough for my friend
Richard, who lay dying of cancer in a Toronto palliative
care unit. By some strange coincidence, I happened to be
in Toronto that April weekend, within weeks of Richard’s
death. We renewed our friendship just in the nick of time,
following a 38-year hiatus in communication. I drove from
Richard’s hospital room to the airport, and got caught
up in the abnormal rains and winds and floods that were
heralding – so it seemed to the Elizabethan in me
– the untimely demise of my dear friend Rick.
Why untimely? Because he was cut down in
the prime of his life, a mere fifty-five years young. (Being
fifty-six, I am allowed to say that. All ages younger than
mine are by definition “mere.”) But seriously,
Richard was well-schooled and witty and wise, and full of
experience of the world. There were doubtless myriad achievements
he could have and would have attained, had he but lived
longer. Alas, his life was derailed in its last two years,
by a series of calamities culminating in an aggressive and
soon-to-be-fatal cancer. Reuniting with Richard in his penultimate
hours was moving for us both. You can read more about him
and our reunion in part 6 of The Comeback Trail:
johnny good guy.htm
So this April 2008 the sun shines brightly,
and (or because?) no childhood friends lie dying. Thank
goodness. Even so, at my age the years fly by at an ever-increasing
speed, whipping past like so many fence-posts on a highway.
But this is the highway of life, my friends, and I am increasingly
mindful that it leads to one and the same final destination
for all who travel it, and at any speed. When we’re
young, time is endless. As we age, it speeds up. I remember
when a year felt like an eternity. To a child, “next
year” sounds like the far-distant future. Nowadays,
it seems like every time I blink my eyes, another year has
flashed by.
A Lesson from Labelle
Last year’s Johnny Good Guy (2007)
was won by Martin Labelle, in a remarkable 20 consecutive
victories with no losses. In a strong performance, Denis
Begin took second. We three had practiced the night and
morning before. Martin and Denis had also tutored me on
the importance of not losing in the first round, which determines
the playoff seedings. In 2007 I had managed to go 9-1-1
– a decent record on appearance – yet that single
loss (to Denis) plus one tie had sunk me to 8th place after
round one. I defeated John Beedham in the round of 16, but
lost to his son Sean in the quarter-finals, finishing 8th
overall in 2007.
Now – an eyeblink later – it
was time for Johnny Good Guy 2008. I remembered the importance
of not losing in the opening round. This year I managed
to go 10-0-0, allowing 2 goals against in the 10 games,
and recording 8 shut-outs. My last game of the round was
against Sean Beedham, and at that point we were both 9-0-0.
Sean, who has learned not only great table hockey but also
great sportsmanship from his father, let me play on the
better side of the table. I prevailed 2-1 in a nail-biter,
in which Sean out-shot me by a wide margin. Thank the table-hockey
gods for hot goaltending. Matt Walma also went undefeated
in his division, but since the first tiebreak is goals against,
I got the nod. Being #1 seed in the playoffs is the best
that one can do, at that stage. I was guaranteed to meet
the lowest-ranked surviving player in subsequent rounds.
Preliminary Standings,
after round #1
The Playoffs
Amazingly perhaps, there were no upsets
in the round of sixteen. The top 8 playoff seeds all went
through: yours truly, Matt Walma, Dave Kraehling, Sean Beedham,
Bill Garrett, Sid Kloosterman, Bernie Kunzler, and Vito
Brundia. In a noteworthy series, John Beedham came within
an ace of ending Kraehling’s day. John won game one
7-5. Dave scored late to ice game two, mostly because his
persistent forechecking pre-empted John’s offence.
Dave led game three by 3-0, but die-hard Beedham Sr. fashioned
a heroic comeback, tying the score at 3-3 with 22 seconds
left to play. Later, John told me he then started thinking
about overtime. That was a mistake. With 22 seconds left,
you have to think about winning in regulation. Dave evidently
did. He scored 2 quick goals in the final 22 seconds, stunning
John 5-3. Still, Beedham Sr. came closest on the day to
eliminating Kraehling, which says a lot about the strength
of Mr. Johnny Good Guy’s game.
In the quarterfinals, however, all bets
were off. Three of the four top seeds did not survive this
round. I went down in straight games to Vito (2-4 and 2-3),
while Sid knocked off Matt and Bernie eliminated Sean. Kraehling
was the only top seed to survive, once again being taken
to the limit by a determined Bill Garrett. Dave prevailed
2-0, 2-3 (OT), 2-0. Bill had played very well defensively,
but needed more firepower against Kraehling.
In the semis, Kraehling swept Brundia while
Kloosterman edged Kunzler 2 games to 1.
In the final series, Kraehling defeated
Kloosterman 3 games to 1. Kunzler won the bronze medal game
over Brundia, and so Johnny Good Guy 2008 became Y3K, the
year of the 3Ks: Kraehling, Kloosterman, Kunzler. Kloosterman
and Kunzler were unseeded at the outset. I guess they’ll
be seeded next year.
 Dave
Kraehling #1
|
 Sid
Kloosterman #2
|
 Bernie
Kunzler #3
|
Dave Kraehling put on an exceptional performance
this year. Unlike Martin Labelle, who simply demolished
the opposition in 2007 without losing a game, Dave relishes
pushing every playoff series to the limit, then dismantling
his opponent in the deciding game. He appears to thrive
on the drama. He even cheers when his opponent scores a
nice goal. I have experienced this twice in tournament play:
Las Vegas 2007 (Dave won our final series 4 games to 3),
and New York 2007 (where he won our bronze medal series
2 games to 1). While Dave’s closest call at JGG 2008
came against John Beedham in the round of 16, he followed
that up with another 3-game series against a plucky Bill
Garrett in the quarterfinals. That’s Kraehling’s
psychology. He wants you to think you’re in it, the
better to knock you out of it. On balance, this “strategy”
works very well for him. He certainly wins his share of
events. His current #5 ranking in Quebec is no accident
either. Not many players have that much firepower, defense,
and consistency.
Whether coincidentally or not, in both 2007
and 2008, a player who has practiced with me the night before
Johnny Good Guy has won the tournament: Labelle in 2007,
Kraehling in 2008. (Yes, Dave and I had a spirited practice
he night before, and I thank him for his hospitality.) I
wonder whether this trend will continue in 2009.
Final Rankings: JGG 2008 Top 8
1. Dave Kraehling
2. Sid Kloosterman
3. Bernie Kunzler
4. Vito Brundia
5. Lou Marinoff
6. Matt Walma
7. Sean Beedham
8. Bill Garrett
The Hot Stove League
After he went down to Kraehling in arguably
the most exciting series of the tournament, John Beedham
and I had a chance to compare notes on the vicissitudes
of aging. It turns out that we had both been thinking about
this issue independently, and for very good reasons. He
is “a mere 55”, while I am 56. We are not the
oldest guys on the tour either: Guy Mason is 60, Tony Sciacca
is 59, and I think there are some others of that vintage.
But if you take the departure point for
table hockey “seniors” as 55, a nominal age
of retirement, John and I shared the same view: We are both
still able, at times, to compete with the best. And on a
given day we can still beat anyone. But to be a champion
on a given day, you have to beat everyone. That’s
a lot tougher today than it was 30 years ago, for the sport
has grown and improved, not only in strategy and tactics,
but especially in the breadth and depth of today’s
players.
Father and sons are on the increase, as
witnessed in Toronto by the participation of the Reardons
from Buffalo as well as the Beedhams of Brampton. In Montreal,
Eric Larochelle’s son plays a fine game in his early
teens, while Michel Decarie’s young son can hardly
wait to play competitively. My son Julian, also in Montreal,
just challenged me to play him next time I’m in town.
That’s a good sign. In Chicago, the Thills are a strong
father-son combo; while in New York, we have Bill and Nick
Galatioto in our league, and Nick (age 13) has improved
dramatically. It’s great to see fathers and sons in
the sport.
In the NHL, legendary Gordie Howe is the
exception that proves the rule that professional ice hockey
is a young man’s game. Great as Howe was, he could
not have skated with his sons when there were only six teams.
When the NHL got watered down enough, the Whalers signed
the remarkable Howe family as a franchise marketing ploy.
Then again, the tendency in many professional sports is
toward ever-greater longevity of play: Gordie Howe, George
Foreman, and Warren Moon are among many examples of outstanding
athletes who pushed the envelope and defied the calendar
in extremely demanding sports.
Table hockey has many great players in their
forties, including Gino Bossio, Dave Kraehling and Burt
Brassard, three of Quebec’s current top 10. But most
of the best are in their 20s and 30s, including the Quebec
Cup winners of 2007 (Pat Cote) and 2008 (Carlo Bossio).
John Beedham and I agreed that we are both
a little slower than we were 30 years ago – maybe
only by hundredths of seconds. In table hockey, that difference
counts. John and I also agreed that we can both manifest
enough intensity to win given games, but that we have trouble
sustaining the required level of championship play for an
entire tournament. Thirty years ago we could do this at
will; not any longer. In the end, we had to attribute our
decline to aging. We have both noticed significant changes
since 50. And we are told to expect yet more changes at
60. And so on. The process looks like a long, slow, inevitable
slide. In some cases, it’s rapid and precipitous –
like my exit from the quarterfinals after winning round
#1. In other cases, it’s close and disappointing –
like John’s loss to Dave in the last 22 seconds of
game 3.
Table Hockey Resembles Life
So table hockey resembles life. Well of
course it does! Many great players peak around 25-35, then
begin imperceptibly to decline. They can still play championship
table hockey in their 40s, but maybe with less frequency.
Once they hit 50, they will feel more change in their game.
And so on. If you want a scientific hypothesis, this long-term
table hockey performance curve correlates pretty closely
with the long-term curve of testosterone levels. (Go figure.)
Once men hit 40, their testosterone levels decline, on average,
about 1.5% per year. That’s not much at the beginning,
but it takes its toll in time.
We will see what happens to Kraehling’s
game over the next decade, as he reaches 50 and beyond.
If he can sustain his outstanding level of play, he will
inspire those of us who – like Guy Mason – will
still be competing at 60 and beyond. Guy’s game also
showed a lot of intensity at JGG, the most I have seen from
him yet. Guy played better than .500 hockey (5-4-1) and
ranked 21 out of 44 after the preliminary round. That’s
outstanding, especially considering his recent double eye-surgery
and his age. If a 60-year-old can improve so noticeably
at this sport, it holds out hope and inspiration to those
of us who are currently “pushing 60.” What an
unusual sport this is, to feature 13-year-olds against 60-year-olds,
with every age in between. In the end, John Beedham and
I agreed that we are fortunate indeed to be table hockey
players, at any age.
We also agreed that there are basically
two strategies an older player can adopt going into a tournament.
Plan A: Pull out all the stops; there’s no tomorrow.
(The danger: you may run out of gas.) Plan B: Play as well
as required to make the playoffs, conserving energy for
later. (The danger: later might come sooner.) Plan A got
me into the quarterfinals, where I ran out of gas against
an opportunistic Brundia. Plan B got John into the round
of 16, where he almost took down the eventual champion.
Well, John, it look like we need Plan C! (or maybe plan
T :-)
I started this story at Pearson airport,
and am finishing it at home in the Hudson Valley. Thinking
of my late friend Rick and JGG 2007, it occurs to me that
my performance at JGG 2008 was a metaphor for Rick’s
life. I played well for some time (12-0-0), then suddenly
came off the rails with 2 consecutive losses. Similarly,
Rick had played the game of life well for some time (more
than 50 years), when suddenly a series of calamities ended
his run within 2 short years. It reminds me of Buddhism’s
teaching concerning the transitory nature of all phenomena
(even table hockey players) .Rick knew this too, and so
he lived and died very philosophically, and to the utmost.
Fortunately, since table hockey is only a metaphor for life,
we can “perish” at the board and come back to
play another day. Which most of us “senior”
players are resolved to do.
Overall, Johnny Good Guy 2008 was good to
me. It was great making new acquaintances and deepening
friendships. Benefits included playing the sizeable Moulton
clan, improving from 2007 to 2008, augmenting my collectible
JGG wardrobe, enjoying the ample buffet and the engaging
conversations. Thanks to Pete Moulton and the other organizers,
Classic Table Hockey is alive and well in Brampton. Long
live the Johnny Good Guy tradition!
