Letter to My Younger Self

Brian Trottier

Kid, I’m from the future. I’m you, 50 years from now. You’re looking at me like, “You? The guy with the mustache and all the scars? What the heck happened to me?”

Well …

The disco era. That will inspire the mustache.
18 seasons in the NHL. That will give you the scars.
Now I know you’re thinking — that’s impossible. There’s no way. You’re 10 years old, and you just watched Jean Beliveau lift the Stanley Cup on Hockey Night in Canada on your black and white TV in 1966. It seemed like the broadcast was coming from the moon. It didn’t seem real. You tell your parents you want to be Jean Beliveau, but it’s like you’re saying you want to be Superman.

And you — you’re just kid on a farm in Saskatchewan in the ’60s. Life is so simple. There’s precisely one TV channel. You’ve never even seen a “hockey card.” There’s an actual siren that goes off at 9 p.m. in your tiny town that warns all the kids to go home.

More here

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.