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Friday, February 2, 2001
Quebec loves hockey, not NHL
By Brian A. Shactman
ESPN.com
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QUEBEC – Every day, the bellman at a downtown Quebec City hotel doles out directions, advice and suggestions just as easily as he blows his whistle for a taxi. Sights to see, food to eat, cafes for coffee. He knows them all.
But when it comes to sports bars, his face turns about as blank as the check Gary Bettman should write Mario Lemieux for his comeback to the NHL.
"Excusez moi. Parlez-vous Anglais?"
"Oui."
"Where can we eat dinner and watch a hockey game?"
"The suburbs."
"Excuse me?"
"You will not find somewhere with big screens and sports in the city."
What? This is Quebec City – in Canada – a place where just five years ago, the NHL had a team that played in front of a packed house almost every night at the 15,399-seat Le Colisee. It's a region where hockey is more religion than game.
But the team's exodus and the bellman's reaction to what seemed a simple question are somehow connected. The Nordiques are now called the Colorado Avalanche, due primarily because this picturesque city couldn't support the NHL with today's salary scale and need for tremendous corporate support. And despite some lingering nostalgia – with only scant bitterness – the people of Quebec City, from the mayor to the local truck driver, accept the inevitability of losing something considered so sacred – namely hockey at the highest level.
In fact, most think it was for the best – even as Colorado, the franchise's home since 1995, prepares to host the league's All-Star Game.
"I was very hurt (about losing the Nordiques). Very angry. But looking at it today, I don't think they could have made it," said Dave Boeda, 51, who once skated for the junior Aces in Quebec where he was teammates with Guy Lafleur. "With the money today, fans aren't enough. Corporate. Corporate. Corporate."
|  | | The glory days of the Quebec Nordiques likely won't ever return to the city where hockey is considered a religion more than recreation. |
Walking along the ancient walls of this majestic, quiet and cold fortified city is reminiscent of Geneva more than Toronto, Madrid more than Montreal. Perhaps those cities don't accurately represent the feel of Quebec, but the point is that it's a unique place; visiting Quebec City is like a trip to Europe. English can't be heard on these narrow streets. In the cafes, a person can order coffee, smoke a cigarette and not be bothered to either order a sandwich or leave after 10 minutes.
So, to be fair, the sports bar is about as common in Quebec as a Labatt's beer is in St. Louis. But when looking back and assessing how important the loss of the Nordiques was to Quebec, it's clear that although hockey might be an integral part of the culture, NHL hockey isn't.
"It is a winter city and hockey is more important than anything. It is the most important sport, and everybody likes hockey," said Raymond Buldoc, who serves as the general manager for the AHL Citadelles and QMJHL Remparts, the current residents in what is now called the Colisee Pepsi. Ironically, the Avs play in Denver's Pepsi Center. "They like their junior, pee-wee. If you know the pee-wee tournament we have here, the international pee-wee tournament has between 10,000-15,000 come every day for 10 days."
Two high-level teams play in the old NHL rink, and pee-wees draw near-sellouts. Why then, is there no clamor for the NHL?
"The first year was tough, but then afterward, they went somewhere else. After five years, we realize nothing could have kept the Nordiques here -- not even a large chunk of money from the government or anywhere else," said Jean-Paul L'Allier, Quebec's longtime mayor. "So, their leaving was the only thing that could have happened to that area here, though I said it was very hard. ... We did the utmost to keep them here, but it's with essentially private money because it is a private business, a private show and not with the city money."
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If we calculate the loss of hockey, we compare ourselves to a train -- we lost a locomotive. ... I don't think the NHL will return, but you never know because I think the NHL will crash someday if they don't have a new agreement with the players. If we want hockey back here, we need a crash. But I would be surprised. ” |
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— Maurice Dumas, 54, Sports Editor, Le Soleil |
That Quebec City lost the NHL wasn't about attendance -- the Nordiques always drew well. It wasn't about competitiveness, because the team was certainly well on its way to success after reaping the benefits of trading disgruntled draft-pick Eric Lindros to the Flyers.
Quite clearly, it was about money. But the money issue is unique in this situation because the consensus is that then-owner Marcel Aubut never lost a penny on the Nordiques. Not a one. Before selling the team, Aubut went after a new arena and help from the city not because he was losing money and needed to be bailed out, but because swiftly changing NHL market conditions meant Aubut was bound to lose money.
"I can tell you for sure that the day the strike ended in the NHL, Marcel Aubut knew that he was going to have to sell the hockey team because he wanted a salary cap, and he did not attain that," said Luci Tremblay, the media relations director for the city's mayor who covered the Nordiques' departure in 1995 as a television journalist. "I'm quite sure that the Nordiques couldn't survive in Quebec without that salary cap. Quebec is a small city, a small market, and there are no major TV channels here, no major companies, no headquarters for companies."
A small market without corporate or government support. Sounds familiar to the American professional sports fan, eh?
But instead of forking over public funds for a new, state-of-the-art arena -- perhaps more band-aid to the situation than reconstructive surgery, anyway -- Aubut was allowed to sell the franchise for a healthy profit and have it moved to Denver, where the Avalanche proceeded to win the Stanley Cup in its first post-Quebec season.
"Most old hardcore Nordiques fans were happy that the team would win the Cup," admitted Le Soleil sportswriter Kevin Johnston, who covered the Nordiques and now covers the AHL Citadelles. "Sure, there was disappointment that it was elsewhere. But many fans of the old Nordiques still consider the Avalanche their team."
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I just like hockey. But Canadian money is not so good. a Big problem. ” |
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— Alain McCarthy, a Quebec native and truckdriver by trade |
Disappointment but passive acceptance. However, it's relatively predictable to guess how the local media and the government stand on the issue. Journalists miss the big-time atmosphere of the NHL, and the politicians defend and justify the decision to allow a precious professional team to leave the area.
But the most interesting element of it all is that, almost to a man, every citizen and fan questioned in Quebec resonated similar sentiments: Civic pride was hurt, but civic sense rules the day in Quebec. Love or hate the Avalanche, the NHL belongs in Colorado more than it does in Quebec.
"Yes, I was disappointed when they left. It took two years (to get over it)," admitted Daniel Alain, who likes taking his daughter to AHL games because they're inexpensive. "Now, it's in the past. No, it won't come back. It's too little here."
From the mayor, who is considered to be more concerned with cultural affairs than professional hockey, to the blue-collar citizenry, the responses were the same. Pragmatic. Honest. And understanding that a simple love for a national pastime isn't a mandate to retain the privilege of watching the best players in the world up close.
Walking into the old city, the best American analogy is Lake Placid, New York. Upon visiting Lake Placid now, it's difficult to believe that it actually was host of the Olympics. The place is tiny, rustic and quiet. Quebec City is much the same.
Kids still play hockey outdoors on rinks that dot the countryside. They emulate their favorite players and often skate after school with just skates, a stick and puck -- no gloves, coaches or referees. Their parents yell at them for being late for dinner, and they still have posters of their heroes hanging on their bedroom walls.
It's just that, now, those players on the posters aren't wearing a Nordiques jersey, and the kids' parents don't have to spend $60 to see the NHL. Leave that trouble for Toronto, Montreal and the rest of the NHL world.
Brian A. Shactman covers the NHL for ESPN.com. He can be reached at brian.shactman@espn.com.
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