It was perfectly understandable that when Martin St. Louis didn’t make the final cut for the Canadian men’s Olympic hockey team in early January, he was a bit annoyed. After all, it was the second time he’d received an “Olympic snub,” having been passed-over four years ago. Although he’d experienced rejection at various times on his path to the NHL, it still isn’t in the DNA of elite players to shrug off being overlooked for a team—never mind the Olympic team.
The story, of course, has a somewhat happy ending, at least for St. Louis (even if he did sleep on the decision). He was made a last-minute replacement after teammate Steven Stamkos’s broken leg didn’t heal sufficiently to allow him to make the trip, and it was Stamkos’s turn to be disappointed. All of this, however, poses a question: Why in the name of Frank Zamboni do these guys want to go in the first place?
We understand the competitive nature of the players—the deep-rooted desire to be regarded as one of the top 25 players in the country. It’s a huge honour. We understand, too, that the games will be played at a high level with high stakes, and the experience has the potential to be memorable. But from a practical standpoint, what exactly is the upside in all this for a Canadian player? If you win gold, there is more relief than thrill, because you’re supposed to win. It’s our game, remember? Anything less than gold in hockey is viewed as abject failure.
In fact, the Canadian goalies endure more intense scrutiny than the prime minister during the months leading up to the selection process—never mind the two weeks of the Olympic tournament itself.
No matter how good they are, history has proven that when the Canadian pros return home without gold it’s because they really crap out. Witness the fourth-place showing in Nagano in 1998 and the seventh-place disaster in Turin in 2006. The win in 2002 in Salt Lake City, the golden goal four years ago in Vancouver… from the perspective of the Canadian fans and establishment, these shining moments only meant that hockey’s narrative was unfolding as it should.
Adding to the pressure is the relentless schedule. These lucky players have been enduring an incredibly taxing condensed NHL season, and will now play up to seven pressure-packed contests—if they get to the gold-medal game. After that, they return home, hopefully not empty-handed, and there is a 20-game sprint to the playoffs followed by the two-month chase of the Stanley Cup, the prize that really matters most to them.
On top of it all, while everyone raves about the Olympic experience, about spending time with athletes from other sports, they are still doing it in conditions that are somewhat foreign to these millionaire pros. They aren’t exactly staying at the Ritz, and they know that everyone else who didn’t get to go to Russia is spending their time on a beach or a comfortable couch.
And yet, despite all of that, these good Canadian boys desperately want to be there. God bless them for that. But don’t come home without the gold.