Don Cherry, Real Man
February 16, 2004
by
Bernard Chapin
Right
before the First World War, my mother’s family immigrated from Ireland
to Canada, and, although my grandfather eventually settled in Detroit
and obtained American citizenship, some of our family still resides
in the province of Ontario. As a child, I always loved crossing the
border to visit them.
I viewed Canada as a land of pristine beauty and unique custom.
Be it the names of the highways, the measurement of the gas or the
containers of vinegar on the table, I knew Canada and America were
not the same.
Before each trip, I’d beg my dad to take me to Fort
Malden so I could run up its trenches and pretend to fire
its canons. If we went in the summer I’d swim and walk all day at
Point Pelee. The net result of the sojourns
was that I left childhood with only reverence for our neighbors to
the north.
The Detroit River proved no barrier for the Canadian culture as the
CBC was intrinsic to local entertainment in the pre-cable/satellite
dish era. Channel 9 was as much a part of life for me as Disney specials
or NFL games on Sunday.
The station was only one flick up from ABC and I saw a world hidden
from many other Americans. I was blessed with programs such as SCTV,
Dr. Bundolo’s Pandemonium, curling on Saturday mornings, and static-free
installments of hockey.
Last November, with more than a little nostalgia, I watched a CBC broadcast
for the first time since I moved to Chicago in 1995. I listened to
the commentators even more than I watched the game. Although to this
day, whenever I watch players hopping off the bench mid-period, I
can still hear Harry Neale saying, “They’re making changes. They‘re
making changes.”
In this writer’s opinion, hockey is a 190 floor monument crafted
by lore, bravery and wonder. In this estrogen age, it is a necessity
and functions as a breakwater against political correctness, and there
is no better embodiment of the sport’s personality, among its legion
of commentators, than Don Cherry.
If you’ve never heard of him before, he has a regular segment on Hockey
Night in Canada called “Coach’s Corner.” Years ago, I used
to watch his 30 minutes of pre-game as well. It was known as “Don
Cherry’s Grapevine.”
I forgot all about his show until December when I watched a series
of videos dedicated to the career of Bob Probert. Interspersed among
the fighting, were highlights and interviews. One them featured Probert,
his wife and Don Cherry. Bob was a favorite of Don’s and, as they
were conversing, the grizzled Cherry suddenly put his arm around the
wife of the fiercest policeman in the NHL. He said something like,
“Why do you want this lug when you can have me?” The audience and
Probert found his behavior as hilarious as I did.
Unscripted moments make Don Cherry a wonderful entertainer. He’s
as forceful and unpredictable as a polar bear but as warm and avuncular
as your kindest relative. On Coach’s Corner, he readily plays George
Patton to Ron MacLean’s Bud Abbott.
I’m the only hockey fan I know who has read his autobiography, Grapes:
A Vintage View of Hockey, and that situation needs remedy.
The book is a charming ride through the plantation the old school
built and I highly recommend it. It describes the game even better
than it does Cherry. The first paragraph is indicative of its tone:
“I died on May 10, 1979; at 11:10 p.m. to be exact. Two shots
killed me. The first, which left me critically wounded, was fired
by Guy Lafleur. The one that wiped me out came from the stick of
Yvon Lambert. Had I survived these attacks I have no doubt that I
would still be coach of the Boston Bruins today and, quite likely,
governor of Massachusetts.”
Unsurprisingly, like any man of wit, his observations offend some
and humor others. Yet, a
few words have recently made him the whipping boy for Canadian
political correctness.
Cherry landed in hot water this week for a Jan. 24 rant against
making the use of visors mandatory. He said only "Europeans and
French guys" routinely wear the eye shields.
That drew the attention of official languages commissioner Dyane
Adam, who announced she's launching a formal investigation into Cherry's
comments. She said she wanted to know whether his remarks reflected
a systemic failure at the CBC to respect the Official Languages Act.
The Ottawa government might not be much of a threat when it comes
to hurling illegal immigrants and terrorists across our border, but
they certainly can nanny state one to death with their leftist laws
and post-modernist mumbo-jumbo. The bully boys of sensitivity are
holding this fine people hostage and Cherry’s just the type who might
say something about it. That’s why the government jumped in to insert
a seven second delay
into his telecasts in case he criticizes a Frenchman or says something
nice about the United States
again. Linwood
Barclay points out the impracticality of this delay:
“But what makes CBC-types quake is Cherry's expression of ideas,
and how do you know when to press the button for those? As soon as
he says "French" or "Italian," you have to assume
he's going to smear an entire culture, even though he may simply be
launching into a rant about salad dressings.”
Deleting the words he says will only make them all the more appealing
to those banned from hearing them. The government will soon become
bigger laughingstocks than they already are. When governments try
to coerce their citizens from committing thought crimes it is the
state apparatus that becomes criminal. What will the future bring?
Colby Cosh,
in regards to the Conan O’Brien fiasco, speculates:
“Given the uproar, who wants to visit Toronto and possibly touch
off some kind of international incident by saying the wrong thing?
Aren't there dank, fungal Turkish-style prisons up there for people
who make ethnic jokes? (Answer: not yet, but check back in ten years.)”
The craziness of PC conformity should be visible to all through the
Cherry uproar. Those in the thrall of cultural Marxism (the philosophy
behind political correctness) don’t understand how Cherry could have
even come up with something like that about visors.
Egalitarian levelists are outraged every time someone makes a generalization
about any group of people. It doesn’t matter whom. I’m sure even
with skin cancer they tried to initially argue that all groups are
effected equally. Utopians hate individual variation and that’s the
basis of why they came down on Cherry. Specifics don’t matter. They
want us all to pretend that what is…is not. They are so irrational
that some Quebec politicians called Cherry a racist even though Cherry
and those who torment him are both members of the Caucasian race.
When I heard about the story, all I could think is why now? Don
Cherry’s always been the same colorful guy and he’s been saying the
same things since I wore Tough Skin jeans. He still dresses in three
inch high shirt collars and dons clothing with patterns louder than
ten feminists placed on dietary restriction. He is old time hockey
and that’s why we love him. That’s why he’s a star.
What’s changed is not Cherry, it’s the western world. Nowadays,
governments race one another to see who can be first to apologize
for and condemn any spontaneous behavior in which its citizens engage.
The real story behind the kerfuffle is that it took so long for him
to placed under the stiletto heel of the Canadian government.
Personally, I don’t have any particular prejudices regarding visors
in the NHL, European players or the Quebecois, but I am a Don Cherry
fan. I admire Don for the same reason that I love hockey. It’s a
man’s game (yes, you heard me); a man’s game of grace, speed, fury,
precision and aggression. We should be grateful that it was created,
and we should also be grateful that Don Cherry’s on earth to describe
its virtues and vices.
We hockey fans are not the easily offended types. In this age of
pseudo-multiculturalism, Don Cherry provides a level of diversity
absent from most of our lives. It’s sad to acknowledge that there
will be no place for a young Don Cherry in Canada’s pansified future,
but there wouldn’t be any places for the sort of guys who defended
Fort Malden either.
Bernard Chapin
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Bernard Chapin
is a writer in Chicago.