Am I evolving or should I just accept it’s a lifelong affliction?
Since I was a wee broth of a lad, I’ve been superstitious in only one aspect of my life – sports.
For the most part, I’ve always believed you make your own luck. Logic and reason rule the roost. Except when it comes to sports.
I’ve been watching the Stanley Cup playoffs with some extra interest this season, as my team of choice since I was knee-high to a shin pad is faring well.
But maybe for the first time in my life, I’ve been trying to accept the fact their fate has nothing to do with me.
A little back story, some of which I’ve shared before. As a hyper-competitive freak of a child, you did anything to find an edge. Superstitions were rampant.
My personal go-to was chocolate pudding.
I don’t quite remember the origins of my belief in its magic powers, I just know that it had them.
As a young wannabe athlete, I ate some chocolate pudding before scoring a hat trick or before a big win or something. I did it again before the next outing and had similar good results. Eureka!
Well into adulthood, I believed chocolate pudding was the key to any athletic success. I did allow for a move from it having to be made by myself to the ready-made cups, and then added ice cream sandwich flavour (still had chocolate) for some variety. Though any type of athletic prowess is long behind me, if you come to my house, somewhere in the fridge you will find chocolate pudding.
Just in case.
I also, for the longest time, believed I could affect the outcome of professional sporting events. For most of my life for my favourite teams, as I got a little older I added in teams I may or may not have a vested wagering interest in winning.
I would set up watching shrines – team blanket, glasses, bowls – and make sure I wore my jersey and hat and other team paraphernalia. The same setup each game.
If they scored when I was sitting in a certain chair, I’d stay in that chair (bathroom breaks be damned) until intermission or an opposing goal, so as not to disturb the force.
The last time my squad won the Stanley Cup, I drove to a different city each game to watch with my equally rabid buddy, bringing my 13-inch TV (the one referenced here) with me each time, and tossing a football in the exact same manner between periods. When our squad won it all, we jumped in the freezing river to celebrate.
And to this day, we believe we played a part in that victory. Sure, the players did the goal-scoring and made the big saves. But more important was two guys thousands of miles away dutifully following a set routine to make sure everything fell into place.
I know many of you out there are steadfastly following similar playoff routines of your own.
I thought I’d moved past some of this. I didn’t switch channels after a rival goal. I wore fresh underwear after a big win. I ate different food each day.
But had I really changed? Nope.
It was a tie game. I was watching intently. My son’s mom wandered by to ask about something innocuous and the “other” team immediately scored.
“No, bad luck!!” I said, trying to shoo her away as if the goal was her fault, but still might be overturned if she quickly moved out of range. It wasn’t. Her face, the same one my Mum used to make when I tried to explain that tattered gonch made me play better, spoke volumes. On to the next. Chocolate pudding at the ready if necessary.
Do you have any special superstitions, sporting or otherwise? Feel free to share, I’d love to hear them.
PQB News/VI Free Daily editor Philip Wolf can be reached via email at philip.wolf@pqbnews.com or by phone at 250-905-0019.
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