Lessons from the sports bar
Going to a sports bar. A thing I would avoid at all costs in Australia (I think mostly for snobby reasons). A thing I have done with 100% delight in Helsinki for 3 of the last 5 days to watch the ice hockey world cup.
Quarter-final vs Denmark
Watched with: A local lady we met previously in a non-sports pub. I will not name her in case she reads this and feels weird having her name in my blog. I will refer to her as H.
Why: Well, because we like H and because when we get an invitation from someone in Helsinki, it is the kind of striking of gold that one does not simply turn one’s back on. Even when it involves sport. A sport with the quantities and intensity of humans-banging-other-humans-up-against walls that I can often find distasteful.
H explained to us that the quarter final match against Denmark should really be a boring game, because, on paper, it should be an easy win for Finland. But there’s technical ability. And there’s mental ability.
What do you know about Finland? I feel like there’s a good chance that you know Finland to be: educated, progressive, successful and very able … at anything … at everything. Everything Finns do, they seem to do it well. Well, that’s what all the articles people have been sharing with me on Facebook tell me. Finland is known for being good at things. I feel that what we may not know about Finland, is that Finns often struggle to fully recognise this of themselves, and feel confident in their abilities. (I am not yet qualified to make this kind of sweeping statement about the Finnish national identity, but I think this is somewhat confirmed by people on the internet with opinions, and also H told me so. And she’s Finnish. So. There.)
The Finnish team has demonstrated their technical ability in previous matches. Perhaps their greatest battle when the stakes are raised in finals is against ingrained, historical attitudes about not being winners. This attitude is apparently more prevalent amongst older players who have not received special mental coaching for their entire careers, unlike the younger players. Finland is a country that expects to lose more than it expects to win.
Semi-final vs Russia
Watched with: A local butcher and his friends.
Why: Ok, this is complicated. Here’s where we start: Nick and I were critically (but temporarily; fear not) low on euros, so we cased the local market hall to get a sense of what the cheap meats are and madly translate the cuts into English.
After scouting, re-grouping for recipe planning, and a return to the food hall to purchase mince for lasagne and ask the butcher what people use chicken hearts for, Nick whacked the mince on the stove to start dinner preparations.
But I was not happy. It was ravintolapäivä (restaurant day), a concept we had been excited about since before arriving in Finland. It is a day when Finnish food laws are relaxed, and people who are usually encumbered by strict regulation, set up stands to sell their food wares in the streets. So in the end, we caved and took some of next week’s cash to go find some home-cooked treats in Bear Park. While finishing up our Ethiopian in the park, we heard an almighty roar, and I realised Russia must be playing Finland in the ice hockey, and judging from the roar, Finland must have scored. We set out to follow the roar, keen to see how the match was shaping up.
After locating the offending sports pub, we took a look around to see if there was room to watch, and were immediately shouted at from a corner room. ‘Customers!’ a man shouted, ‘hey, customers!’. I thought it was a peculiar thing to shout, but we turned around to avoid further drunken harassment. But he followed us, grabbed us each by a shoulder and explained that he’d recognised us from our earlier meat purchase at his stall in the market hall, and that we were welcome to join the party. We have been told that the road to success in a foreign country is to say yes to everything. So we joined the most raucous punters to shout unseemly chants at the screen and drink down a few more of next week's precious euros on a mince-purchase-based welcome.
That’s the why.
In our much less civilised and more swear-laden experience, I learned a very important life lesson: always be nice to your butcher, to ensure that he/she will be nice in return when recognising you while intoxicated and surrounded by a large group of friends.
These are the chicken hearts I watched someone buy 3 bags of. I needed to ask what they're used for.
Final vs Canada
Watched with: Strangers (and this time, they remained strangers) at the nearest dodgy pub.
Why: Well we’d seen the quarter and semi finals! Do you think we’d just miss the big match?!
So, by this game, I have thoroughly questioned my disdain for sports with lots of banging into things and other people. Have you ever ice-skated? Think about it a little.
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Now, I want you to imagine skating while holding a stick. Then imagine trying to hit a very narrow little black thing that moves superfast either on the ice or maybe just through the air. Mid hit, imagine that you are also switching from skating forwards to skating backwards in a split second. Now imagine there is a giant, colourful bear-sized being moving at lightning speed directly at you. There are also rules which mean that while you are doing all of this, you also have to know where all your teammates are, lest you be called offside.
Watching those guys skate and play an intense, high speed sport is fascinating.Ice hockey is remarkable. So when Finland lost their final match to Canada, I was a little disappointed for Finland, but on the whole, I was also just awestruck by the miracle of ice hockey.