This is an exciting moment for you, friend. You are on the brink of greatness. At last the planets have aligned and you are ready to realize your artistic dreams—unless you live in Montreal. The Habs are the only Canadian team to make the playoffs this spring. Every other Canadian NHL squad has been relegated to the sidelines. And that means the Canadian calendar is wide open, ready to be filled with accomplishment. No more excuses, Canada. Sit down and write that novel.
History has known great artistic flowerings before—ancient Greece, the miracle of the Italian Renaissance, the rise of the Impressionists. What did these great creative eras have in common? Did Greek playwright Sophocles’ favourite wrestler pull a muscle? Did Michelangelo’s soccer team have lousy goaltending? Did Renoir lose a bundle betting on petanque? The answer is yes, I’m almost certain of it, which is why I expect that someday the spring of 2014 will be known to history for the great flowering of Canadian art and literature that is now ready to germinate.
Canada loves hockey, which is all very well. But the NHL playoffs are a giant time sink where productivity goes to die. It’s bad enough that after enduring a long Canadian winter we greet the joy of spring by pulling the drapes so we won’t be distracted by the darling buds of May during the game. There’s also the fact that the whole playoff process is nearly as long and gruelling as the Bataan Death March. In the time it takes to watch a team advance to the Stanley Cup Finals you could teach yourself to play the lute, scale Mount Olympus, then compose and sing a lengthy narrative ballad based on the Epic of Gilgamesh. And haven’t you been planning to do all that someday? Well, now’s your chance. The Canucks/Oilers/Flames/Jets/Leafs/Senators are out. Unfold your creative wings and let your long-neglected dreams take flight.
Or you could just start cheering for the Habs. Don’t forget to make the nachos ahead of time—you don’t want to bother with that kind of stuff when the game’s on.
