The sudden end to Canada's party

Seldom do the words 'passion' and 'Canada' turn up in the same sentence, unless accompanied by terms like 'absence' or 'no visible presence'. There are, however, two things which exercise Canadians: hockey, and Americans. They scream and cry over their beloved game, and spend the rest of the time reminding everyone who will listen - as well as one another - that they are not Americans. Mix those two elements - a love of hockey, and the ceaseless quest to put the bullies to the south in their place - and you get a volatile cocktail.

Canadian teams once owned the Stanley Cup, the Holy Grail of professional ice hockey. No more. It has been nearly a generation since a Canadian team last won the Cup. And, whenever a team from north of the border makes it to the finals, the whole country rallies behind it.

Canada is the proverbial tortoise to the American hare. Tired of hearing the crowd always cheer for its speedy, lively rival; tired of all the jibes about being the only people on the planet who can manage to make the Swiss look exciting, Canadians will remind everyone that in the old fable, slow and sure wins the race. Back in the '90s, when the American economy was booming and people spent like there was no tomorrow, Canadians were locked in a decade of sluggishness as the country paid down its debts.

Powerful canadian dollar

So when the financial crisis hit this decade, the overextended American economy crashed. Canada, thanks to its prudent fiscal management, weathered the storm very well. Its banks, flush with cash, started buying up cheap American assets. The Canadian dollar, long derided by Americans as the Canadian peso, surged to overtake the ailing greenback. Canadians, their home values secure and their job losses comparatively few, crossed the border to go on shopping sprees at all the US sales.

And the tortoise seemed to finally thumb its nose at the exhausted hare when, after decades of watching hockey franchises leave Canada to go to new homes in the (gasp!) American sunbelt - hockey and palm trees? - failing American clubs began looking for Canadian owners. Earlier this spring, when the prairie city of Winnipeg got back a franchise, it seemed like hockey was coming home. And when Vancouver made it to the Stanley Cup finals, as the favoured team no less, it looked like the Canadian celebrations would be crowned with laurels.

Then they ran into Boston, the one US city that can rival the Canadian love of hockey - love of any sport for that matter, though admittedly the sports-mad New England city tends to prefer those which, like hockey, involve players getting smashed into boards or knocked on to their backs (and here, out of respect for that part of my family which comes from the Catholic of the British Isles, I will refrain from making any jibes whatsoever about the city's Irish roots, nosiree, Bob).

The rest is a messy, smoking, glass-sharded history. In the final game of the hard-fought series, played in Vancouver, 100,000 fans gathered outside the arena to watch the game on jumbo trons. The pubs had done brisk business, and the testosterone was flowing freely. When the Boston Bruins took an early lead, then went on to beat the Vancouver Canucks decisively, trouble started at once. Riots broke out, and continued for hours, as the police struggled to restore control.

Canada's self-image as a quiet, decent place where children can play freely in parks took a hit, although it was redeemed somewhat the next day when shamed Vancouverites volunteered to clean up their city. But Canada's game remains in American hands. Until that is reversed, for all their economic achievements at the moment, Canadians will no doubt still feel they are playing second-fiddle to their more glamorous southern cousins.

And that's one thing they will hate with a passion.

John Rapley is the Bradlow fellow at the South African Institute of International Affairs. Email feedback to columns@gleanerjm.com and rapley.john@gmail.com.