EDMONTON — I never caught a puck, or a foul ball, in the hundreds of games I’ve attended in my 50 years. You would think your number would come up eventually, wouldn’t you?
No, the only thing I ever caught actually caught me one night at Northlands Coliseum: Alex Van Halen’s drum stick, directly on the left shoulder, from about 40 yards away. Had it been a foot over and eight inches higher I’d be wearing an eye patch today, but back in 1980 rock ‘n’ roll drummers did things like chucking a drum stick as far as they could into the black, smoky floor seats of a sold-out show.
I was about 18 rows back on the floor, maybe 20, standing on a folding chair as you did back then. The drumstick hit me, landed in the aisle, and not a soul was aware of it but myself. I half expected it to be gone when I looked down, but there it was, waiting for me to calmly pick it up off the floor while everyone focused on David Lee Roth in his red-and-white striped, flared pants and long-gone flowing blonde mane.
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It wasn’t just a hockey rink, right?
Northlands Coliseum, when you’re born and raised here the way I was, is about so much more than just the Oilers. Sure, it was a place your father took you to see the stars of the World Hockey Association in the early 70s, like Gordie Howe, Bobby Hull, Frank Mahovlich and Jacques Plante. But it was also where you first saw the Harlem Globetrotters, or the cool retreat from the steamy Klondike Days midway, where you could take a seat and watch the Super Dogs.
My dad was an optometrist for 40-some years in this city, back in the days when you had to go all the way downtown to 101st and Jasper Avenue to get your eyes checked. He’d buy me an ice cream while we stood in the concourse between periods, and passersby would acknowledge my father — “Hey Milt!” “How ya doin’ Spec?” — until his eight-year-old son believed he must know every person in the entire city.
This was where I saw my first big concert — Chicago in about 1977 — and slept through the whole thing. It was a Klondike Days show, and the midway left me puke-sick.
I saw Van Halen here three times in their absolute prime in 1979, ’80 and ’81 — three of the finest rock ‘n’ roll concerts I’ve ever seen. I remember the high-pitched ding in my ears the next day in math class as clearly as I recall Eddie Van Halen alone under the spotlight, hammering out “Spanish Fly” or “Eruption”, the rock equivalent of a Gretzky five-point night.
Guitarist Eddie Van Halen. (Photo by Chris Pizzello/Invision/AP)I also covered Roller Hockey International there, a team dubbed the “Sled Donkeys” by Glen Sather when the Sled Dogs owner took a run at signing Oiler Dean McAmmond.
I watched a few rodeos in here, and later learned that they truck in five tonnes of dirt to put a rodeo on at Rexall Place, but only take four tonnes of dirt away when it’s over. Where does the other tonne go? It’s the same answer to the question: What’s inside those Rexall Place hotdogs?
You don’t want to know.
I covered a World figure skating championship in here featuring the luscious Katarina Witt, and a Canadian championships where I truly did shed a tear watching a young woman named Karen Preston skate in the gala moments after her Olympic dreams had been crushed. Honestly, it was perhaps the most emotional thing I’ve seen in nearly 30 years in the business. She was crying, my teammate Joanne Ireland and I teared up… It was impossible not to.
German figure skater Katarina Witt. (stf-Paul Chiasson)
I once skated on this ice with Wayne Gretzky, who stayed out after practice to join our media hockey group, as part of a promotion for Grant Fuhr’s “Shooter Tutor.” Gretzky actually fed me a pass as I skated by, and like an idiot I walked in and shot on the goalie.
That the puck is not signed and on my office wall is testament to my idiocy, but in those days in Edmonton, Gretzky wasn’t nearly as big a deal as he should have been. I’d get another pass another day, wouldn’t I?
I saw Ted Nugent swing across the stage on a vine one night here, wailing away during his Wango Tango tour, in a triple-bill with The Scorpions and the Pat Travers Band. And I saw Supertramp’s Famous Last Words tour — their “last ever” concert in Canada, on Sept. 6, 1983. Of course, they’ve played Canada multiple times since.
The Eagles; April Wine with that big drummer Gerry Mercer, who was bald before bald was hip; ZZ Top when their beards weren’t grey; The Police; Ritchie Blackmore’s Rainbow; Ozzie and Black Sabbath — but sadly, in separate shows; Brad Paisley, Toby Keith, Dierks Bentley, and even Carrie Underwood (the wife’s pick); back-to-back Yes shows (still have the live album they cut); multiple viewings of Rush, AC/DC, The Tragically Hip, Trooper, Triumph, Travers…
Then, about six or seven years ago, I took my own son to his first stadium show. The Killers.
They seemed louder than Halen or Sabbath had been, but maybe I’m just older now.
It’s time for a new rink, and some new memories.
And I don’t have a clue whatever happened to that drum stick.
