Exactly four meters below me, there are two piles of LPs, sitting on a shelf in our basement. If the floor of my office suddenly opened up, so that I’d fall straight down, and then through our hallway floor as well, I’d land on a photo of three dogs in the backseat of a limousine.

Those two piles of vinyl were a big part of t my teen years, which were my most active music listening years, and what seem to have defined my musical taste for the rest of my life. Every once in a while, when I go downstairs to look for something, I stop to look at my old records, and my old turntable sitting next to them in a plastic bag. Every time, I realize that I have most of those LPs also in other formats: First CDs, and then those imported onto my laptop as mp3s, and now somewhere in a Spotify cloud, as “The Only Playlist You’ll Ever Need”.

(That, in a word, is pathetic).

» Continued

Yesterday, on my way to the gym, I thought I saw a 50-krona bill in the snow on the pavement. I stopped to check - of course - and realized that it was, indeed, a mustard yellow bill with the singer Jenny Lind on it. I quickly picked it up, and then, before slipping it inside my red mitten, I looked to my left and to my right, to see if somebody was watching me.

I’d like to say I did so to find the poor old lady who had dropped it so I could return it, but that was my second thought. That did come before “I can’t believe my luck!” My first thought, though, was: Who’s pulling my leg?

Now, I’m a joker. I sometimes tell a joke, although I can’t seem to remember very many of them at the same time so I mostly do puns, wordplay, and sarcasm. In fact, I monitor my development in Swedish by seeing Wife’s reactions to my puns. Ten years ago, she used to say she’d heard my puns before. In third grade. These days, I seem to be making 7th grade puns.

My Dad, on the other hand, is a prankster. He’s the kind of guy who hides eggs in other people’s pockets, or sticks pepper inside a chocolate bar.

» Continued

“Social anxiety is the fear of interacting with other people, which can bring on intense feelings of self-consciousness. Put another way, social anxiety is the fear of being judged negatively by other people, leading to feelings of inadequacy, embarrassment, humiliation and depression.”

Let’s just face it. Sharing is a little scary. We all know the feeling when the teacher singles you out for talking in class. You do not even realize that she is staring at you. Once you do realize it, and look up, the teacher looks you in the eye and says: “If it is such a great story, would you like to share it with the rest of the class?”

Of course not.

» Continued

Here's the year 2011 as chronicled in the opening lines of stories published in the New Yorker throughout the year. What a year!

» Continued

Last week, just as I was about to make a long-distance Skype to America, my laptop quietly died. Well, before it died, it froze, and went into a coma. I don’t know if it could hear me, but it didn’t react to anything I did. Not mouse movements, not my tapping on the keys, not even Escape.

I had to switch it off and have it examined.

Two days later I got a call. The man had some good news and some bad news. The bad news was that the hard drive had, indeed, died. The good news was that they were able to retrieve the data.

“I’ll put a folder called ‘backup’ on your new disk then,” said the man with the message.

» Continued

When I first moved to Sweden, I was more than shy to speak Swedish. For a non-Finn that may have seemed a little strange, since I had seven years of Swedish studies - with good grades - under my belt, and I had translated hockey magazines from Norwegian and Swedish into Finnish. And yes, I could read the papers, watch the late night news on TV, and every now and then, I would even send an email in Swedish to my colleagues.

But every Finn knows how difficult it is for us to speak Swedish. Partly because the Finnish accent always gives us away - and Finns would like nothing better than to blend in - and partly because while that fantastic educational system did teach us Swedish grammar, it didn’t teach us how to speak.

» Continued

When I was 17, many moons ago, I lived in a small Finnish town called Joensuu, in the eastern part of the country, about an hour from the Russian border. Except that it wasn’t the Russian border, it was the Soviet border, and it wasn’t such a big of a deal. There’s nothing on the other side of the border, anyway, just forest. There’s nothing else in about a hundred mile radius from the city.

There was no Internet, and therefore no YouTube, but there was rock’n’roll so my friends and I spent a lot of time sitting in each others’ rooms listening to tapes and records, and swapping tapes and records with each other.

And trying to learn those first few chords to Smoke on the Water.

(As it happens, still the only chords I know).

» Continued

[Professor Hood’s] researchers convince the pre-school-age subjects that their special item will be put into a machine that can produce a copy of the object which is identical in every way. The infants, who are offered the choice of having the original or the "perfect" copy returned to them, strongly prefer the original. – BBC, 2004

Every once in a while, when I’m writing longer pieces, my fingers seem to swell, and I take off my wedding ring. It’s something of a pause to collect my thoughts as well, and a minute or so later, I slip the ring back on because I’m worried that I might lose it.

Before Wife and I got engaged, we were fake engaged for a while. Or, I know that I was. We’d only been together for about a year when we moved in together. She had sold her apartment wanted us to take a really nice, long trip somewhere with the money she had made so we took a trip to Mexico. For a week, we traveled around the Yucatan peninsula in an air-conditioned bus with an active group of mostly retired people.

» Continued

Even before my father had uttered a word, I knew what he was going to say next. I had heard it before, and always in a voice about two octaves lower than his own because that’s the tone he had heard it in the first time, some 30 years ago.

We were at a hockey game, when I mentioned to him that I'd be going to Turku to interview Juuso Wahlsten. As soon as "Wahlsten" had left my lips, I saw the twinkle in Dad's eyes, the lightbulb over his head, just like I had seen many times before over the years.

“It’s not every day you see a junior team play such good hockey,” Dad said.

» Continued

First time you feel it, it might make you sad
Next time you feel it it might make you mad
But you'll be glad baby when you've found
That's the power makes the world go 'round

In the winter of 1985, JVC handed out free tickets to see a movie about a young kid traveling back in time. I had read in the Rolling Stone that Huey Lewis and the News had a couple of songs in the movie, but didn’t know much else. I didn’t even know that JVC handed out free tickets, but when my father asked me if I wanted to go, I said yes.

It was a special afternoon matinee, starting at 4.30, which was perfect, because it meant that I would still be able to make it to the hockey game the same night. The game started at 6.30 so if I ran or walked briskly, there was still a chance to make it to the rink before the opening faceoff.

» Continued

Last week in Sweden, some 600 000 people stayed up or got up in the middle of the night to watch the World Juniors final between Sweden and Russia on TV. The average was 530 000 and by the time Mika Zibanejad beat Andrei Makarov in the Russian net, 600 000 people had tuned in.

And the way the game ended, it was obviously worth losing some sleep.

After the game, Sweden’s Jeremy Boyce-Rotevall said that Zibanejad had told him before the game that he’d "finish this game off." A bold prediction coming from a player who had scored just three goals in the tournament, against Latvia and Slovakia – but he backed it up.

"I [repeated it to Boyce-Rotevall] before the overtime too so it was good to get that goal," Zibanejad said. "You have to decide if you want to win this. In the morning, it was a joke, but obviously it’s not a joke anymore."

No, it’s no joke. And every time we repeat it, it becomes a little more of a truth until it becomes a true legend.

» Continued

Longtime German national team player and national coach Xaver Unsinn passed away on Wednesday, January 4, 2012, in his hometown of Füssen at age 82. With 107 games at World Championships and Olympic Winter Games as a coach he was the coach with the second-most international games behind only legendary Soviet coach Viktor Tikhonov.
– IIHF.com

One September morning in 1977, I was in a rush to read the sports pages of the Helsinki morning paper, even more than usual, because the Finnish SM-liiga had kicked off the night before. I turned to the back of the newspaper, and saw a headline about Lauri Mononen scoring a “Canadian hat trick”.

I had never heard of such a thing, but I learned that it was not just a regular hat trick, but a double one. Six goals.

» Continued

Dear world,

Jimmy didn’t do it. He didn’t steal those billions of dollars. Trust me, I know. I am his grandmother and he was with me that whole week a couple of years ago because I had a sore throat and I needed love and attention. That and Jimmy’s special tea with honey. That usually cures any sore throat in just 24 hours. That time, however, it took me a whole week to get better.

» Continued

NEW YORK – It was worth the hype. Just two days after its launch, “2012”, the latest version of Year, a life experience interface, has collected over seven billion users, making it the most popular Year in history.

Year has managed to add new users in most of its existing markets, a feat not many analysts thought was going to be possible. Also, while Year has dominated the global marketplace, it hasn’t always been embraced by the Chinese, leaving one of the biggest markets untapped, but “2012” seems to have broken that barrier.

The new Year is built on the same platform as the previous version, the “2011”, but users now can make slight modifications, such as opt for better nutritional and workout habits, a feature that the 2011 also initially had, but that disappeared mysteriously in early February in what is suspected to be an attack by the Anonymous.

» Continued

Hockey’s pretty much a year-round sport these days. Finnish teams, for example, play their first exhibition games already in early August when the rest of the world is still at their barbecues. Today, the players seem to be in shape all the time, August or April, they’re no slackers, and the Mario Lemieux kind of training – “not ordering the fries with my sandwich” - has gone the way of the Bobby Hull toupee.

I’m with Mario, always have been, but still, summer always feels like a new chance to get in shape. I don’t seem to succeed, but every summer, I still try. I even do some of the old conditioning drills back from when I still could. And when nobody’s watching, I try to run up a tree. I always have to get at least three steps up the trunk to feel good about myself.

» Continued

While I was never one of those guys who could visualize their dream car, their dream house, or their dream woman, I always knew that Rita Hayworth was the perfect woman. You may not agree with me, but in that case I will have to respectfully let you know that you’re wrong. And I will tell you why. Rita Hayworth was the perfect woman because he was the star of my Dad’s favorite movie – which I assume was his favorite because she was the star of it.

The movie is Gilda, a 1946 film about an Argentine illegal casino, its owner, his right-hand man, and Gilda, the perfect woman, and the owner’s new bride who appears to share a past with the right-hand man.

» Continued

I’ve never understood why John Lennon would sing “another year over and a new one just begun” in a Christmas song. There’s still a week between Xmas and New Year’s and anything can happen.

For example, six years ago, Wife didn’t have any idea on Xmas Eve that a week later I’d propose to her.

Twelve years ago, we wished each other merry Xmas and a happy new year a couple of days before Xmas Eve because I spent that one in Finland, and wasn’t sure if I’d be back for her New Year’s party.

But I decided to come back because I wanted to be with her. That much I knew then, and that much I know now. Everything else has just happened.

» Continued

The Best of 2011.

1. True Stories
» A loser never quits

2. Hockey
» Stefan Liv

3. Random
» No chicken

The Best of 2011, nummmbbbeeerrrrr 2. If, for any reason, the number one stories of 2011 can't fullfill their duties during their reign, the first runner up will take over their places.

1. True Stories
» Mother

2. Hockey
» Jarda

3. Random
» It’s a small world

The Best of 2011, nummmbbbeeerrrrr 3:

1. True Stories
» Better than science, fiction

2. Hockey
» There’s that Valeri again

3. Random
» Princes of dorkness

And now - counting down the best stories of 2011 - number four:

1. True Stories
» Noteworthy

2. Hockey
» It’s all in the game

3. Random
» One unique idea

And here we go, counting down the best stories of 2011. Number five:

1. True Stories
» Secret admirer

2. Hockey
» The faceoff circle of life

3. Random
» The one in which he gets a prize

I love Santa Claus. And I’m not just saying that to get great presents, really. (Although, hope you remember that, Santa, if it helps). I love the tradition, and now that I’m the one who’s spending his Christmas Eve thinking about Santa Claus plans, making phone calls to friends to see if anyone would be ready to don the red suit and get inside the character, I actually like it even more.

My Santa is not the one that gets in through the chimney in the night. My Santa is the one who walks in to see if there are any nice children in the house, and then leaves his big sack of presents to us.

Although, it’s not that straightforward. It’s almost never been that straightforward.

» Continued

Still with me? Counting down the best stories of 2011. Number six:

1. True Stories
» New kid in town

2. Hockey
» Son of a Goon

3. Random
» All the news that's fit to print

Almost there. No, not Xmas. Counting down the best stories of 2011. Number seven:

1. True Stories
» Nacho fast, said Columbo

2. Hockey
» Open letter to my beer league team

3. Random
» A few simple rules of men’s room etiquette

And we continue counting down the best stories of 2011. Number eight:

1. True Stories
» Labor of law

2. Hockey
» One moment in time

3. Random
» Ulf

Counting down the best stories of 2011. Number nine:

1. True Stories
» A Nora Ephron scene from a life

2. Hockey
» 99 balloons (for Gretzky)

3. Random
» The show must go on

It's almost Xmas, which must mean that it's time for Risto's 3rd annual Best Of The Year list. This year, there are three categories: True Stories, Hockey, and Random, and each day between now and the tenth day from today, I will post links to a Top 10 story in each category.

Starting now. Nuuummbbeeeerr ten:

1. True Stories
» Razzle dazzle this

2. Hockey
» Purple pain

3. Random
» Summer nights in the middle of the winter

Each title is a link to the story. Enjoy.

Every year, Son, Daughter, and I take the ferry over to Finland about a month before Xmas. We go see the grandparents, and other family, and spread a little advance Xmas cheer. Each year, we drive up to Dad’s, and we go to hockey games.

A few weeks ago, we made our 4th Annual Road Trip to Finland, and we saw two games, one of them a road trip inside our Road Trip, as we drove 150 kilometers to catch a Finnish league game in Kuopio. And not only that, but we watched it from a luxury suite.

That means one thing: Real food.

» Continued

“Is the number 17 in there? See if number 17 is there,” I heard from around the room.

I lifted one of the sweaters in the white box, just to see what was available. There are many codes in hockey, most of which I wouldn’t be able to repeat, but one of them is not to make a big deal out of your own number. On any team, everybody always knows each other’s numbers so it’s not a problem, but when you’re playing shinny … it’s a different story.

I lifted one sweater - a number 3 - and put it back down. I picked up another one. It was 21. I put it back in the box.

» Continued

Listen, man. I don't know how many of you people believe in astrology … yeah, yeah, that's right, baby. I am a Sagittarius, the most philosophical of all the signs. But anyway, I don't believe in it. I think it's a bunch of bullshit myself. But I tell you this, man. I tell you this: I don't know what's gonna happen, man, but I wanna have my kicks before the whole shithouse goes up in flames. All right! ALL RIGHT!
– Jim Morrison

About 15 years ago, I went through a big Jim Morrison phase in my life. I don’t remember exactly what triggered it, but it most likely was the Oliver Stone movie which came out in 1991. I probably watched it on video in my apartment, and decided that I was Jim Morrison.

Although, I always knew I wasn’t Jim Morrison. I wasn’t crazy like Jimbo, I wasn’t dangerous like Mr Mojo Risin’. Yet, I also knew that even if I wasn’t the Lizard King, I, too, could do anything.

» Continued

It’s not unusual to lose things in a move. Moving every little thing you have, your entire life, from one place to another is a big undertaking in itself, and to make it a little more challenging, you often do it very quickly, in a matter of hours.

I’ve moved twelve times in my life, and ten times since (and including the time) I moved from home, to go to college. That time, I had no furniture to take with me, all I had was clothes and records. A few plates, and glasses and forks and knives.

And my VW Beetle.

» Continued

Sidney Crosby’s return to NHL action after his ten-month long sick leave due to a concussion was one of those larger-than-life moments. Especially with the way he capped his comeback with a four-point performance. It was one of those highly anticipated games that forced European TV networks to quickly change the schedule, and pick up the Penguins-Islanders games instead of whatever else they had had in mind. (Sorry about that all you local Finnish/Swedish boys).

It may not have been a true once-in-a-lifetime moment, but it sure was a memorable event. There are only so many truly unforgettable moments anyway, and what makes those few truly great is the fact that they are just that: moments.

Paul Henderson’s goal. Crosby’s Olympic game-winner. Kovalchuk’s wrist shot at the Worlds in Quebec. Teemu Selänne hoisting the Cup. Tommy Salo’s goof up at the Salt Lake City Olympics.

» Continued

I’m a simple man, with simple needs and simple pleasures. Like food. I like food, but because I’m a simple man, I don’t need a gourmet dinner to be happy. After all, I grew up on Finnish lihapiirakka, a deep-fried pie with ground meat and rice inside. (Add ketchup and mustard).

When our family moved from Helsinki to Joensuu, a rural university town in Eastern Finland, one of my biggest fears was that there wouldn’t be a good burger joint in Joensuu. It may sound weird now, but back then, there were no McDonald’s restaurants in Helsinki, and there was just one “real American” burger place in town.

It was a Carrols. And we went there on Sundays.

» Continued

A few weeks ago, I got an email from a fellow hockey fan. Mike, whom I've never met, but who's been my email pal for years, wrote simply that he was forwarding an email to me because he "thought you might be interested in it."

Below Mike's message, there was a link to a hockey memorabilia auction site which had a brand new Valeri Kharlamov collection up for sale.

Mike was right. I did find that very interesting. Valeri Kharlamov, the fantastic Soviet forward, was my biggest childhood idol.

» Continued

I like notes. Since there were no cell phones when I was a kid, Mom and Dad always wanted me to call them at work when I got home from school to let them know that I was fine. After that, I was on my own until they came home. In case I was out skating a little longer, or if I had gone to the store, I was always expected to leave a note for them.

“Mom. Went to store. R”

I’d leave that note on the doormat in the hall of our apartment, so that it’d be the first thing Mom saw when she got home.

We all did that. If my parents weren’t at home when I got in, before I could finish my “I’m hoooo-ooome” call, I’d see the note. If it was stuck to the hall mirror, I knew it was from Mom. Dad left his notes on the table under the mirror, or on the kitchen table.

» Continued

HHOF Treasures* is a fantastic book with great stories by great writers, and of course, with Matt Manor's magnificent photos. I got to be a small part of it with the chapter I wrote about the men and women working behind the scenes at the Hockey Hall of Fame Resource Center. Here it is.



Preserving Hockey’s History

Hockey history is full of important, inspiring, capital “M” moments: the cups, the medals, the records and the milestones — the once-in-a-lifetime scenarios. The physical items immortalized in these moments are what first come to mind when you think of the Hockey Hall of Fame; items like the Stanley Cup, Sidney Crosby’s Olympic gold medal-winning puck and stick, or Jacques Plante’s legendary mask.

» Continued

The players on my table hockey game were made of steel. I think one of the teams was Team Finland, but I’m not sure anymore. I am sure, though, that even a 7-year-old kid could grab those flat tin players by the head and bend them into an S shape, if they, for example, wouldn’t shoot the puck right, or if the goalie let in a soft goal.

It was also easy to curve the blades on their sticks so they were exactly like the real players’ sticks.

The little metal guys did their best, and so did I. My Dad, however, probably didn’t bring his best game to the table, but even his second-best was a little too good for me.

» Continued

This is apparently what happened: HV71’s Daniel Rahimi and Färjestad’s Czech defenseman Martin Sevc got into an bit of a scrap which ended with Sevc using a racial slur. The linesman heard it, and Sevc was thrown out of the game.

Växjö’s coach Janne Karlsson was upset with a goal that Linköping scored on overtime and he flipped the finger. His defense was that he wasn’t sending any messages to the referee, but to Andreas Jämtin, a Linköping player who Karlsson said had disrespected him.

When Skellefteås Fredrik Styrman visited his former team, Luleå, for the first time, the local fans welcomed him by chanting “Styrman will be taken out of the ice on a stretcher”.

And that’s just last week. Apparently, Sweden’s not all IKEA meatballs and Pippi Longstocking.

» Continued

I was exactly where I wanted to be. I repeat: exactly where I wanted to be. I wasn't in front of everybody because if you’re in front, it’s easy to start looking back. When there’s nowhere to focus on in front of you, you tend to take off too fast, and use too much energy in the beginning.

Some people prefer to run in the middle of the pack, because they feel the power of the crowd carrying them on, and I suppose they feel safe in the middle, when the masses begin to stampede.

I don’t.

» Continued

FADE IN.

EXT. A small yellow car is driving on a long city street. On one side of the street, there is a river, on the other, some small houses.

INT. Zooming in, we see two young men inside the car.

» Continued

On my first day of work in Sweden, 13 years, 6 months, and 22 days ago, I took the subway from my apartment, a place that a friend of a new colleague let me use for a couple of weeks while I was looking for a place of my own, and I headed downtown.

I had only lived in Stockholm for five days, and had mostly just walked around the neighbourhood – and accumulated parking tickets right outside my apartment building.

I got on the red subway line towards downtown, and sat down reading a book, like a real Stockholmer. And then, as the subway train got closer to the Old Town where the office was, I … well, I panicked. I got off at a stop that was just before the Old Town, foolishly thinking that it would be faster to walk from there than to walk from the actual Old Town stop.

» Continued

In April 1917, when the Russian Bolshevik leader Lenin traveled through Stockholm, the Swedish Communists Ture Nerman and Fredrik Ström took their comrade to PUB where they bought him a new suit so he would look good coming back to Russia.
– Wikipedia

Hundreds of thousands of Finns travel to Stockholm each year, most of them on one of the two ferry lines that have their ships go back and forth the two capitals - Helsinki and Stockholm - and one former capital - Turku, Finland.

» Continued

A couple of weeks ago, I found the local hockey club’s new magazine in our mailbox. Our Sollentuna Hockey is a tiny club, with a men’s team in the fourth highest division in Sweden, but it’s also one that is proud to have Mats Sundin as an alumnus. For the first issue they had even got an interview with the man himself.

That, naturally, pulled me in, and as I read the story at the breakfast table, I mumbled that I probably should go watch their games and support the local club. And that maybe Son would like to tag along.

“No, no, I’m not interested in such a violent sport,” said Son from across the table without looking up from his comic book.

» Continued

In my first year of college, I spent most of the weekends at my Grandma’s little place a half hour north of Helsinki. Well, I actually drove up and spent most of the weekends with my cousins, my uncle’s kids, who shared their yard with Grandma and Grandpa.

They were - are - just a couple of years younger, so e had a lot of fun doing stuff that Grandma and Grandpa probably wouldn’t have wanted to do. I say “probably” because we never asked them if they wanted to come out and go ice skating on the gravel road in the winter, or watch MTV or old TV shows on VHS, or drive up to the sports field and kick a soccer ball with us.

And when it was time to go to bed, we didn’t ask them if they, too, wanted to lie in the dark, listen to music, and crack silly jokes – but then again, by then, they had been asleep for five, six hours.

» Continued

On a recent Sunday afternoon, I happened to be in the audience when three Finnish NHL players held a press conference about their game later that week in Helsinki, Finland. The Anaheim Ducks players were on the podium, in their impressive looking suits that they’re required to wear as stipulated in the Exhibit 14, Paragraph 5 of the collective bargaining agreement between the league and the players’ association.

While listening to them, I happened to notice that two of them were wearing very impressive looking watches on their arms.

» Continued

How hungry am I? Well, I just had a cup of coffee, and then I ate the styrofoam cup. That didn’t help.

I’ve only had breakfast today. It was a good, big Scandinavian hotel breakfast, sure, with scrambled eggs, German wurst, two sandwiches, a croissant, and a cappuccino, but it was eight hours ago.

The reason why I haven’t eaten anything all day is that I’ve been working as a reporter, covering a visiting NHL team in Helsinki: watching their practices, and waiting for the players to come out of their dressing room to face people like me. And right now, I've been standing in the corridor outside their room for 50 minutes.

» Continued

I can see the McDonald’s golden arches on a rooftop on the other side of the bay from my hotel room. I can also see the big white cathedral, the national museum, and the Hesperia park and the trees around it turning red and yellow. Down below, green trams are going up and down Mannerheimintie, the five and a half kilometers long main street that begins from Erottaja, the most expensive lot in the Finnish version of Monopoly, and turns into highway 3 in the north end.

The McDonald’s sign may have been there 17 years ago, I’m not sure, but I don’t think it was. Neither was the Helsinki Music Centre, or the glass cube which is home to Sanoma, a major Finnish media house.

Mostly, the view over Helsinki looks exactly like it did in 1994 when the NHL took brought Teemu Selänne’s Winnipeg Jets came to town to show how things were done in North America.

» Continued

Sometimes, late at night, when the neighbourhood is quiet, and even the teenagers with the mopeds have gone to bed, I wake up. It’s the silence that wakes me up, but when I sit up, and listen, I can hear a long, whining sound in the distance.

And I laugh.

» Continued

For a fearful person, there can hardly be a worse place than the airport. An airport offers a concentration of people – and fears. There are the crowds, the closed spaces, the impending airplane ride. Public places mean lots of germs and lots of strange people. Foreigners who do not speak your language are everywhere.

For many of us, there is the common fear of buying a cup of coffee and realizing at the register that you do not have enough money and cannot speak the language – and are naked, too.

But mostly, airports are happy places.

» Continued