Yesterday, I watched about half of game 4 of the 1972 Summit Series. There was no booing of Team Canada during the introductions. I watched a better quality, audio and visual, version than I had previously. Still a Canadian telecast. I noticed some things that I had also seen in the Canadian telecast of game 1.
For example, Canadian propaganda. The Canadian people had been told that Canada was "number one in two things, hockey and wheat," and really, really believed it. What you're number one in...That's gotta be a marker to your soul. What happens when you really, really believe you're number one in something and you aren't? That's gotta be a problem. The marker to your soul points one way in your head, another way--Where?--in, like, reality. I'm not even sure they're number one in wheat, I would have thought the U.S. or Ukraine is, or was in 1972, but I haven't looked that up. First, hockey. That would be a problem if they weren't number one in wheat either, though! That would be another clash between belief and reality. Clashes between belief and reality are problems. Imagine the Chinese when they found out the Middle Kingdom of the universe wasn't located around Beijing. Messes with your head. "Wait a minute, I thought..." Can make you wonder who you are, it can.
Nobody among the consent manufacturers in North America believed the Soviet Union was really number one in hockey. Nobody among those who consumed the product manufactured by the consent manufacturers believed the Soviets were number one in hockey. That would be the people, the consumers.
I suppose most Canadians who followed the Summit Series followed it on television as opposed to radio or in print. But those who followed it on radio or in the newspapers would have gotten a very different impression. There was a sequence in game one where Bobby Clarke upended Alexander Maltsev and then whacked Maltsev on the head with his stick. That was an important marker for the future of the series, eh? Booby didn't get a penalty for it and if you weren't watching it you would never have known that there was any cause for a penalty because Foster Hewitt said Clarke's stick "accidentally" struck Maltsev's head. Who you gonna believe, Foster Hewitt or your lyin' eyes? (Try finding a still of that, by the way, to prove your eyes ain't lyin'.)
In game 4, in the first period, Yvan Cournoyer (whose name Foster pronounced variously, one of them may have been the correct pronounciation) twice viciously attempted to slash a Soviet player. Like most of what Team Canada tried in that game, Cournoyer failed. But, as Phil Esposito said post-game, Cournoyer had "tried!" It was another preview of coming attractions. On the second try Hewitt said only that Cournoyer had "kinda" slashed at the Soviet "again."
The Soviets led 3-0 when the magnificent Gilbert Perreault scored for Team Wheat to make it 3-1. It was a marvelous near end-to-end rush by Gil, like Maradona on his "Hand of God" goal weaving his way through and past defenders. Perreault swooped in on Tretiak's ("Tertiak," "Tetriak," "Ter-tee-erk") right and sneaked the puck into the net. Actually, the puck hit a Soviet defender's skate and ricocheted in, which would have been called an "own goal" if in soccer, which is not in hockey anywhere and to his credit Hewitt not only pronounced Perrault's name correctly but immediately described it as a ricochet off the Soviet player's skate.
Perrault's goal got the Vancouver crowd going--in Canada's favor--and it did energize Team Canada but, wouldn't you know it? just a couple minutes later those damned Soviet nobodies made it 4-1.
Then came the play highlighted by this post. Pretty deflating that fourth Soviet goal. Can make a fella frustrated, it can. About a minute of actual time, not game time, later, after the face-off reset, a Canadian player in his own zone tried to head-man a pass to Frank Mahovlich. At least that's what I think he was doing. Like most Canadian passes, unlike most Soviet passes, this one badly missed its mark but Mahovlich gave chase, across the red line, into the Soviet zone, fronted by a disciplined Soviet defender. Tretiak came way out of his goal crease and cut off the errant pass and sent it back down Canada's way. Like a demon possessed, and unconcerned that the object of his chase, the puck, was no longer in front of him but now behind him (But Tretiak was in front of him. (Cue ghoulish laughter.)) Mahovlich raced ahead of the Soviet defender, who was now, like, following the puck...Mahovlich raced on and leapt onto Vladislav Tretiak's back.
The mo-fo Ma-ho jumped on Tretiak.
I mean to tell you, Vancouver Society was mad about that manner of "trying," hoo-doggie.
Instantaneously there was an outraged "Arrgh!" from the crowd and then the boos just cascaded.
Mahovlich didn't get off Tretiak neither.
Mahovlich pinned Tretiak face-down on the ice, Tretiak struggled to resist this mating attempt and Mahovlich kept Tretiak there, 10-15 feet away from goal, for eight seconds.
Deafening, incessant, outraged, the boos came and came and echoed and came again. Entirely appropriately, good for Vancouver society, I honestly wondered if the fans weren't going to start throwing things at Mahovlich and they might have if they hadn't thought they might hit Vladislav by mistake.
The image above is of Mahovlich trying to hump Tretiak in game three. Foster Hewitt described this game 4 "play" accurately: Mahovlich "held" Tretiak; Mahovlich was "sitting on" Tretiak; whatever it was lasted about "10 seconds," but there is no still of this outrageous action anywhere on Google or Yahoo, no matter the search terms you "try." It is as if this incident...disappeared.
It was made to disappear. It doesn't fit into the ruling party's narrative. The Great Patriotic War on Ice is ranked by the Canadian people ahead of Canada's role in World War II and second only to the Battle of Vimy Ridge in World War I as the country's finest hour of the 20th century. In this narrative Frank Mahovlich "fell" onto Tretiak. That is the word used by one of the Canadian papers I ran across while searching for an image. "Fell." "Kinda" fell? Not that neither.
For example, Canadian propaganda. The Canadian people had been told that Canada was "number one in two things, hockey and wheat," and really, really believed it. What you're number one in...That's gotta be a marker to your soul. What happens when you really, really believe you're number one in something and you aren't? That's gotta be a problem. The marker to your soul points one way in your head, another way--Where?--in, like, reality. I'm not even sure they're number one in wheat, I would have thought the U.S. or Ukraine is, or was in 1972, but I haven't looked that up. First, hockey. That would be a problem if they weren't number one in wheat either, though! That would be another clash between belief and reality. Clashes between belief and reality are problems. Imagine the Chinese when they found out the Middle Kingdom of the universe wasn't located around Beijing. Messes with your head. "Wait a minute, I thought..." Can make you wonder who you are, it can.
Nobody among the consent manufacturers in North America believed the Soviet Union was really number one in hockey. Nobody among those who consumed the product manufactured by the consent manufacturers believed the Soviets were number one in hockey. That would be the people, the consumers.
I suppose most Canadians who followed the Summit Series followed it on television as opposed to radio or in print. But those who followed it on radio or in the newspapers would have gotten a very different impression. There was a sequence in game one where Bobby Clarke upended Alexander Maltsev and then whacked Maltsev on the head with his stick. That was an important marker for the future of the series, eh? Booby didn't get a penalty for it and if you weren't watching it you would never have known that there was any cause for a penalty because Foster Hewitt said Clarke's stick "accidentally" struck Maltsev's head. Who you gonna believe, Foster Hewitt or your lyin' eyes? (Try finding a still of that, by the way, to prove your eyes ain't lyin'.)
In game 4, in the first period, Yvan Cournoyer (whose name Foster pronounced variously, one of them may have been the correct pronounciation) twice viciously attempted to slash a Soviet player. Like most of what Team Canada tried in that game, Cournoyer failed. But, as Phil Esposito said post-game, Cournoyer had "tried!" It was another preview of coming attractions. On the second try Hewitt said only that Cournoyer had "kinda" slashed at the Soviet "again."
The Soviets led 3-0 when the magnificent Gilbert Perreault scored for Team Wheat to make it 3-1. It was a marvelous near end-to-end rush by Gil, like Maradona on his "Hand of God" goal weaving his way through and past defenders. Perreault swooped in on Tretiak's ("Tertiak," "Tetriak," "Ter-tee-erk") right and sneaked the puck into the net. Actually, the puck hit a Soviet defender's skate and ricocheted in, which would have been called an "own goal" if in soccer, which is not in hockey anywhere and to his credit Hewitt not only pronounced Perrault's name correctly but immediately described it as a ricochet off the Soviet player's skate.
Perrault's goal got the Vancouver crowd going--in Canada's favor--and it did energize Team Canada but, wouldn't you know it? just a couple minutes later those damned Soviet nobodies made it 4-1.
Then came the play highlighted by this post. Pretty deflating that fourth Soviet goal. Can make a fella frustrated, it can. About a minute of actual time, not game time, later, after the face-off reset, a Canadian player in his own zone tried to head-man a pass to Frank Mahovlich. At least that's what I think he was doing. Like most Canadian passes, unlike most Soviet passes, this one badly missed its mark but Mahovlich gave chase, across the red line, into the Soviet zone, fronted by a disciplined Soviet defender. Tretiak came way out of his goal crease and cut off the errant pass and sent it back down Canada's way. Like a demon possessed, and unconcerned that the object of his chase, the puck, was no longer in front of him but now behind him (But Tretiak was in front of him. (Cue ghoulish laughter.)) Mahovlich raced ahead of the Soviet defender, who was now, like, following the puck...Mahovlich raced on and leapt onto Vladislav Tretiak's back.
The mo-fo Ma-ho jumped on Tretiak.
I mean to tell you, Vancouver Society was mad about that manner of "trying," hoo-doggie.
Instantaneously there was an outraged "Arrgh!" from the crowd and then the boos just cascaded.
Mahovlich didn't get off Tretiak neither.
Mahovlich pinned Tretiak face-down on the ice, Tretiak struggled to resist this mating attempt and Mahovlich kept Tretiak there, 10-15 feet away from goal, for eight seconds.
Deafening, incessant, outraged, the boos came and came and echoed and came again. Entirely appropriately, good for Vancouver society, I honestly wondered if the fans weren't going to start throwing things at Mahovlich and they might have if they hadn't thought they might hit Vladislav by mistake.
The image above is of Mahovlich trying to hump Tretiak in game three. Foster Hewitt described this game 4 "play" accurately: Mahovlich "held" Tretiak; Mahovlich was "sitting on" Tretiak; whatever it was lasted about "10 seconds," but there is no still of this outrageous action anywhere on Google or Yahoo, no matter the search terms you "try." It is as if this incident...disappeared.
It was made to disappear. It doesn't fit into the ruling party's narrative. The Great Patriotic War on Ice is ranked by the Canadian people ahead of Canada's role in World War II and second only to the Battle of Vimy Ridge in World War I as the country's finest hour of the 20th century. In this narrative Frank Mahovlich "fell" onto Tretiak. That is the word used by one of the Canadian papers I ran across while searching for an image. "Fell." "Kinda" fell? Not that neither.
