I scored tickets to another Geneva hockey game, only to watch the brave Geneva Eagles get their ass handed to them by Fribourg, another French-Swiss team. The score wound up being 1-7, but yours truly was headed for the doors by 0-5.The game wasn't much to watch, but an errant puck made me laugh at how I had forgotten I was in Switzerland: a shot against the Fribourg goalie popped up after hitting someone in the shoulder and flew over the glass. As is customary, most young boys 8-12 years old went running for it Chariots of Fire-style. The security guard got to it first and the next closest child looked at him with puppy-dog eyes. The guard whispered something to the boy, the boy nodded, and the guard handed him the puck - which went immediately into the boy's pocket with no pomp, no circumstance, no grandstanding. He boy quietly walked back to his seat, patting the puck in his pocket in silent celebration.
This behavior struck me as being terribly Swiss. The attitude of "even if you got it, don't flaunt it" pervades even the celebration that is reserved for the most cherished of childhood achievements: the pop fly.
No comments:
Post a Comment