For years in my teens, I had a 1982 hockey World Championship poster on my wall. In the image, Snoopy is playing hockey with Woodstock, under the most common cheers for each of the eight teams in the tournament. There was “Go Canada, go!” ,”Heja Sverige” for Sweden, “USA, hey, hey, hey!” … and “Do toho!” for Czechoslovakia
That was new.
Since then, I do tohoed the Czechoslovak players until I went to the World Championships in Ostrava in 2004, and realized that the loudest hockey crowd I have ever heard was chanting something completely different, and nothing like do toho. I asked around, and was told they were saying what sounded like escheyeden to me, and means, “One more [goal]!”
The other day, I skipped down the stairs to get to the mixed zone to interview Finnish and Swedish players after their game in the Ice Hockey World Championship in Stockholm. I nodded a hello to the man guarding the door and walked briskly toward my spot – funny how quickly that happens – when I bumped into a federation acquaintance and a Finnish reporter I hadn’t seen in years.
“Well, here we go again,” said the journalist.
The Finnish federation person looked up from her notes.
“How many has it actually been?” she asked my colleague.
“One of these days, I’ll do a proper count,” he said modestly, “but I think this is my 18th men’s World Championship. Then, of course, with all the World Cups and Olympics, I’m probably at 25. “
“Nice,” I said.
Every respectable sports journalist can list the number of tournaments and events they have covered. Even an unrespectable journalist can.
The point is, obviously, to boost one’s credibility and show that the person knows what he’s talking about. Do I do it? Of course, and if you’re interested, I’ve covered eight men’s hockey world championships, and am in the middle of my ninth now.
If you really want to impress the other person and make sure he truly understands the depth of your knowledge, experience, and expertise, you do what my colleague did and add on the other tournaments you’ve covered.
In my case, eight men’s Worlds. three World Juniors, both men’s and women’s, two Women’s Worlds, one Asian Olympic qualifications, three World Cups, six Champions Hockey League finals.
“Oh, and the 2010 Olympics,” I’ll throw in casually.
The funny thing is that while I’m now in the middle of my ninth men’s World Championship, and while I still talk about past tournaments as if it was yesterday, there is actually a 12-year gap between my eighth and ninth men’s Worlds.
Eleven years ago, I was ready to go to my second Olympic Games, before life interfered. I know exactly where I was when I made up my mind not to go, but it was a shock to realize it had been twelve years. Here I was, thinking that I had been at the Worlds every year when, instead, I have been mostly on the couch.
A few days ago, I climbed the stairs all the way to the top of the magnificent Avicii (Globe) Arena in Stockholm to cover my first men’s World Championship game since 2013, and I felt giddy. Focused, and giddy. I had my notes, I wrote my story, chose a photo, checked the stats, and I drank coffee.
As I was waiting for the clock to wind down so that I could publish my article, I suddenly heard the fans to my right. They were happy, and they were loud, and since Slovakia was winning, I knew they were Slovaks.
Also, I heard their chants.
“Ešte jeden!”
It made me smile. I had missed all that, and I didn’t even know it.