February 22, 2026 Going for gold.

It was 3:40 am, and vivid dreams haunted my mind. Dreams of a game yet to come. 

My eyes flashed open. I stared at the strange surroundings. I was in my daughter’s apartment in Vancouver. At least that part of my dream was true. In my dreams, I was standing in line to get into the bar to watch Team Canada play Team USA for the gold medal in hockey at the Olympics. 

It was a dream we all shared: Olympic glory for our country.

Somehow, my dreams were full of angst, full of fear. 

 I sat up and reached for my phone: 3:40 am.

I splashed some water on my face and marched out the door. Leopolds Tavern was less than a block away. I figured I might as well arrive early and make sure I got in. It was scheduled to open at 4:30 am, in time for the Olympic gold medal game beginning at 5:10 am. I’d contacted a friend, and he messaged me to save him two seats. 

I was on a mission. 

Canada was on a mission.

The lady working inside the bar stared out the window and smiled. By 4:30 am the line was down the block. Anyone just getting in line would probably not get into the bar. 

The energy vibrating in the street echoed into the early morning air. We were all there with a common goal. To cheer on Team Canada to win the gold. To fight for our country. It is one way for us to fight back against the hated Americans. 

The rivalry is real, and we all feel the same. We’ve been battling our frenemy for the past number of years. 

And we haven’t been coming out on top. The Oilers lost twice to our foes. Then the Blue Jays took the Dodgers to overtime in the World Series. Only to come up short.

Heartbreak. Every. Time.

It was our time.

Except fate would not let it end that way. 

Heartbreak once more. 

Canada outplayed the US. Canada outshot the US. Canada was the better team. And yet our boys in red could only get one shot out of over 40 past Conner Helybuck. He stood on his head. So many chances- missed. So many pucks slid wide or stopped at the last second. 

Everyone in the bar was pulsing with energy. We were on the edge of our seats. We were pumped, ready to explode.

And then the air left the room.

We sat in shocked disbelief. How could this falacy of a game, this three-on-three “hockey” be the way a championship is decided? Like the women before, we couldn’t stop the gods of hockey. A lucky bounce and chance interception, and it was over. The puck was in the net, for the wrong team. 

Quiet numbness… how could this be real? The goal counted, and the game was over. Just like that, sudden death. A death felt more deeply than ever before.

It was supposed to be our time. Canada played better than the other guys; they owned the rink.

In the end, the game was what it was: a game of inches, leaving a deep hole in the hearts of those of us who lost.

There will be a new tomorrow. There is a day to begin, the sun will rise again. It was 8:00 am when it was all over. By the time night falls, the pain will lessen, and we will carry on. 

It is, after all, just a game: what a game it was.