Not long ago, the word “hockey” managed to either curdle blood, or trigger blank looks of incomprehension. Now it’s back, and once again becoming every other word the common Canadian mutters, and the only blood it seems to curdle is mine. If you’ve not heard, the stick-prodding, skull-cracking, figure-skating dudes who play our second national sport have finally worked out a better contract with the people who own their teams.
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