It seems unnecessary to say Hops and Hockey Cards is a new feature here at Original Levity, considering just about everything around here is new. It’s maybe more apropos to introduce this as the first installment in what I hope will be a running series bringing together two of my favourite things: beer and hockey.
Although my love of hockey has endured through the years, I don’t have the same affection for today’s game as the old-time hockey I grew up with. While today’s athletes are literally and metaphorically head and shoulders above the players I watched as a kid, I have a hard time bonding emotionally with an NHL that has teams in the desert but none in Quebec City or Hartford. It’s probably not all that unusual for people to draw some of their fondest memories from childhood. In my case, thinking about hockey, that means helmetless players, Fu Manchu moustaches, brown leather goalie pads, Cold War matchups, fly-by-night franchises and blue pucks.
I can remember Saturday nights during my early childhood gathered with my family around the basement TV (an old Zenith model in a wooden cabinet) watching the hockey game. As I got a bit older, I began collecting hockey cards — the old-school kind, printed on low-grade cardboard with a stick of gum in the pack. I’ve held onto my hockey cards, and over the years I’ve replaced dog-eared and wrinkled ones with specimens I’ve bought at collector shows or hunted down on eBay — though the majority of my collection survived childhood in good condition. I never played games with them or put them in my bicycle spokes.
Is bringing together two of my interests, craft beer and vintage hockey cards, a self-indulgent nostalgia trip? Sure, a bit. (But it’s my blog, and I can be self-indulgent if I damn well want to.) But I think there’s a logical connection there, too. Craft beer and hockey cards are art forms in their own right. Both, when done well, are worthy of consideration.
Hops and Hockey Cards, as I see it going forward, could be a reminiscence about a player depicted on a card, an appreciation of a particularly cool card, or both. I realize this may be a obscure concept, so I’ve picked a rather obvious pairing to start the series: Patrick Roy and Arrogant Bastard Ale.
Patrick Roy, the hall of fame goalie and four-time Stanley Cup winner, is an arrogant bastard. His playing days with the Montreal Canadiens ended with a public tantrum after being left between the pipes during a nine-goal run by the Detroit Red Wings in 1995. Then-coach Mario Tremblay did it to humiliate Roy and put his outsize ego in its place, but the goalie’s reaction was unprecedented for a team as rooted in honour and tradition as the Canadiens. When he finally got pulled, Roy mouthed off to club president Ronald Corey, who sat behind the players’ bench, as 18,000 fans in the Montreal Forum and a national TV audience looked on. While walking to his seat at the end of the bench, he stopped and said, “I’ve just played my last game with the Canadiens,” as he went past Corey. The Habs traded Roy to the Colorado Avalanche a few days later, and he went on to win two more cups in Denver. In retirement, Roy had some success as the Avalanche’s coach and VP of hockey operations, but left in a huff with a surprise resignation in 2016. He’s also been accused of domestic violence — though the charges were dropped — and as coach of the junior Quebec Remparts in 2008, he incited his son Jonathan, the team’s goalie, to pummel the opposing netminder during a line brawl.
Roy is a thoroughly unlikable character, but his success is undeniable. As a lifelong Habs fan who bleeds bleu, blanc et rouge, I’m grateful for his role in Montreal’s Stanley Cup victories in 1986 and 1993 — neither of which would have happened without him. But he’s a jerk. That’s why I choose his rookie card for this feature: I prefer to remember him as the shy, gangly rookie who came out of nowhere to help the Habs win the cup in 1986.
Like Roy, Arrogant Bastard is a success story — but not necessarily easy to like. When Stone Brewing debuted the beer in 1997, its 7.2 per cent alcohol content and bitterness made it pretty “out there” by the standards of the day. Brewers today are making bigger and weirder beers, but Arrogant Bastard still deserves a place in the annals of craft beer greatness. It’s a complex mix of big caramel malts, a hint of dark chocolate and a drying, bitter finish that grows as you go. There’s no denying it’s a well put together beer, but I’m partial to red and amber ales that are maltier and sweeter as opposed to hoppy ones. I guess you could say I’m caught between acknowledging Arrogant Bastard’s greatness while not necessarily being a fan — a sentiment not unlike my feelings toward “Saint” Patrick Roy.