Jean Beliveau the gentle giant of Canada, the Canadian hockey legend is no more. My brother and I came to Canada in 1968. Our father and the two sisters joined us in 1969. My brother and I had played field hockey for our High School in India. We were the children of the tropics. We couldn't skate if our lives depended on it. But we took to watching hockey as fish to water. Soon we were glued to our used black and white television set to watch every game we could take in.
Beliveau had been playing for Montreal Canadiens since 1950. He soon retired in 1971 but not before he turned me and my siblings into diehard Habs' fans. He was a giant who always appeared to effortlessly skate or perhaps float on ice. Winner of ten Stanley Cups he played with skill beyond the imagination of mere mortals. He was a hockey players' player, friends' friend and guides' guide for colleagues.
For Canadians he was the greatest player on the ice and no less than a great a human being off it. He was the winner of the most Stanley Cups and many other national and provincial honours. His colleagues and friends have paid him heartfelt tributes. Today his life is being celebrated all over Canada, from coast to coast to coast. He was kind, gentle and a big man with a big heart; one of a kind.
It was Beliveau and hockey that that first engaged the new immigrant in me with things Canadian. I looked forward to watching him in particular and hockey in general. It was a very happy coincidence for me when in 2004 his much younger friend and colleague Ken Dryden, the famed Habs' goalie and I became Liberal members of parliament, friends and colleagues in Prime Minister Paul Martin's cabinet. Ken Dryden was one of the speakers at the funeral. As I listened to his touching words I was reminded of Dryden's book The Game that had gripped my eldest son Pavel's attention when he first laid his hands on it in High School. That may have had something to do with the fact that when Pavel was still little in the fall of 1974 crawling around endlessly and uncontrollably we would sit him in a strong cardboard box in front of the TV to keep him under control as the extended family watched the games. Whenever the Habs scored or we thought they scored we would let out a collective scream. Every time we screamed he screamed out of fright. I am sure he did not understand the immigrant's craze about hockey on ice. Not just little bit of ice but a whole field of ice: ice that was rare and too expensive to afford for his immigrant father's family in the tropics. I often wonder whether his later fascination for hockey and Dryden's The Game came from sitting in that cardboard box. I owe a debt of gratitude to Jean Beliveau for making me feel Canadian by helping me become a Canadiens' fan.
That is the not the only reason that prompted me to write these lines. There is another. There is a lesson from Jean Beliveau's life I want to share with the readers. I grew up in India where in the independence movement only the selfless patriots jumped in. They were not seekers of glory or power for themselves. They fought for the freedom and glory of India. Many of the current politicians in India are in it for personal power and glory and not for public service in pursuit of the public good. Tragically some of us immigrants bring that baggage of "power for glory and power's sake" across the oceans to Canada with us. The public office should only be sought for the advancement of public good not for personal glory. Being a politician is 24/7 labour and commitment to public good. The great teacher Jean Beliveau's life can teach us more than a thing or two about good citizenship. At one time Prime Minister Jean Chretien wanted to appoint Mr. Beliveau the Governor General of Canada. Beliveau declined with thanks. No, he did not want to be the Governor General. Not for him was the glory and power of the public office. He continued to make his impressive contribution to the Canadian public life as Jean Beliveau the extraordinary ordinary Canadian. He was happy to be who he was. Just Jean Beliveau. So Long, Jean Beliveau!