Day 1

Bratislava, Slovakia - 09:00

39 minutes late plus the 5 that Josey has been sitting downstairs - we agreed for 6. Not a good start, but a cup of tea into the drive is time enough to remember how excited we are for the 11-day journey across Central Europe - Portrait of a Hockey Player. Sorry Josey.

A pre-arranged meeting for 9am in central Bratislava with ice hockey trainer Frantisek (Frank) Hejcik awaits us. We fool with the webcam in the car and get our questions organised. The Hungarian-Slovak border, an exit stamp on one of my few remaining empty passport pages, the one legged city bridge, the café, the coffee.

That must be him. He looks like our trainer - team scarf, jacket and a small brown leather brief case.

Frank stretches out a friendly hand to each of us, sees our hats then smiles. It takes less than five minutes for a genuine love of the sport to reveal itself. Frank's conviction carries through our interpreter Daniel, also an avid hockey fan. Both blue-eyed and immediately emotional.

Descriptions of the puck's former regime, Czech-Slovak hockey relations, and rapidly changing economic times for Frank's country charge him far beyond what I was hoping for. His eyes race back in time and without breaking stride Slovak stories of hockey, of passion, of love unexpectedly overwhelm even him, the hardened ice hockey trainer.

In 1989 his team was in the dying minutes of the league championship game when he experienced one of his most exhilerating moments -- they scored with 3 seconds left. Apparently, in Slovakia fans and family are not known for their outward enjoyment of hockey, but at that single second in 1989 the arena exploded. Frank's love for the sport had just brought the lives of his kids and their families to a climax that none of them will ever forget.

We've all been there -- some of us have won, some of us have lost, but we all know that feeling, that emotional charge. Why? Hockey. That's what it does and Frank is reliving it through this story, as I am living it. With his every word, memories come flooding back and I begin to think about my future kids, my Canada, my sport, our sport.

Frank spent some time in Canada in and around hockey and made the following interesting observations: 1. Canadian players consider their team more important than themselves as individual players. 2. Every game, playoff and league game alike, is a sort of celebration with hockey moms' coffee and cakes.

To me this was always just the way it was, nothing unusual. Yet another tear to hold back and make me proud.

Frank looks across the café and spots, ironically enough, a player he hasn't seen in 20 years. We walk over, interupt an important business breakfast and grab a quick pic of them. As we walk away Daniel translates the first thing the tie-wearing professional said to Frank, "You didn't like me, did you."

Crazy hockey.

I ask Frank, "Who is the best team in the world?" He smiles and laughs, "Slovakia, of course."

I ask Frank, "Why do you play?"

"Because it's a fascinating sport. Because I love to."

Czech Republic - Brno

Going to Zlin

No luck with finding hockey in Brno. Frank suggests going to a little hockey town called Zlin. Just over the border we pull into a roadside restaurant. Crustless bread and Czech goulash washed down with golden Gambrinus brings us to why we're there - where can we find a Czech hockey player?

The blonde waitress politely shrugs in unison with her barstool boyfriend, until we mention Zlin. "Ah, Zleeeeeen." After the out of tune minute, simultaneous nods and smiles send us through the smoke, out the door and up the way to - that's right, Zlin.

We are immediately aware of hockey's importance to this town when stepping into a local pub. Walls lined with signed sticks and shirts scream support for their 1st league champions team. Asking where the arena is somehow doesn't warrant the same enthusiasm from bar staff but does get us up some stairs and rinkside to witness colourful oversize sweaters chasing each other and the trainer.

This familiar atmosphere full of onlooking parents is wonderful. We approach almost everyone in the arena and eventually meet Mr. Pavel Kert. His 5 year old Czech national team jersey sporting son, he points out, is the child that has just done a slider into the over-turned net mid-skating drill. Like Martin, other kids are falling here and there, quickly focusing and unfocusing and are simply out for a good time.

Pavel tells us that hockey is very important to the Czech nation and compares the mentality of a hockey player to that of the Czech people - hard and technical. His son comes off to have his skates tightened. Just like the old days... skate between dad's knees, admiring his strength and knowing that you could never ever pull the laces as tight, besides it's not fun burning your finger's skin. Another couple of kids bang the puck off of a board next to where the zamboni man sits and waits to make his rounds cleaning yet another group of large helmet wearing gnome's efforts for the hour.

We get some pictures of the after workout and send shy Martin and and his father off, with Martin probably about to fall asleep in the backseat of the car on their way home...