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Long Walk in the NHL Desert
Like a lot of enlightening moments, mine came to me at the oddest of times. I was overseas in Germany in the spring of 2001, desperately trying to find a venue to watch the Leafs play the New Jersey Devils in a conference semifinal playoff matchup. I was covering the men’s world hockey championship, a work trip that sounded agreeable in theory, but in practice it was proving painful and not particularly lucrative. It was also conflicting directly with the NHL playoffs.
Done work for the night, I was winding my way through a collection of back streets that were notable for their medieval feel and the Second World War bomb damage that was still faintly visible on some of the buildings. The time difference between Europe and North America would let me watch the pivotal Game 5 of the Leafs–Devils series if I could only locate the bar where it was alleged it was to be shown. During my search, I began to realize that my meandering had taken me to an area near Hanover’s main train station to a small neighbourhood bathed in the dull glow of red lights. I had ended up in the area reserved for the city’s houses of ill repute.