Paul Henderson scored his first NHL goal on January 29, 1964, against the Chicago Black Hawks. According to Wikipedia, “it came late in the game against goaltender Glenn Hall and resulted in a 2–2 tie.”
You probably did not know this.
But if you were born north of the 49th parallel between the Atlantic and the Pacific, you likely know about another of Henderson’s goals – one that came later in his career. (Americans who are drawing a blank can find plenty of appropriate, alternate sports references: from Bobby Thompson to The Miracle on Ice. Brits might conjure up Roger Bannister.)
Unforgettable moments – “against all odds” – are a staple of sports. Just ask Jesse Owens, or maybe better yet, Kevin Costner.
As an “emerging” writer (more often submerging) I had a Henderson moment recently when I received a copy of Rhubarb Magazine Issue 39. Looking at the cover, I saw a credit; my name, Mitchell Toews. I may have raised my arms. Just a little — my chewed-up rotator cuffs only allow for a limited joyous celebration. Besides, as my friend Dave sometimes reminds me, too much gesticulation is off-putting.
Anyway. My little story is not on a par with THE GOAL, but it was kinda cool. Por moi.
And the little town slept.
Here is an excerpt from, “A Fisherman’s Story”, which is in this issue of Rhubarb:
The birds flew without effort, in trail formation, gliding into the wind with their wingtips inches away from the curling edge of a breaking wave. They suddenly banked up and out toward the dim, salt-misted far shore of the bay, snaking around in a circle and landing clumsily behind the wave. Rising and falling on the swell, the birds floated quietly until a big male took off, flapped twice, then dropped to scoop a fish. The pelican nodded strenuously to reposition the quarry in his large bill pouch while his wingmen watched the water around him with unblinking eyes.
“Pescadooooo!” Jose had said, flashing his bright smile.
Find more published works, here: http://en.gravatar.com/mitchtoews
…allfornow – Mitch
P.S. – The photo is of my dad, Norman “Chuck” Toews. Early Sixties here — he might have been just a bit better than Henderson.
Copyright Mitchell Toews ©2016