I don’t like hockey’s handshake tradition. Players try to obliterate their opponent; then, when it’s over, they hold hands, hug, and praise each other. That’s empty talk to me.
The hypocrisy only gets worse when I see that Arthur took this photo (after the Soviet Union crushed the USA, 10-2, at the Olympics) on February 9, 1968. That date marks one of the most confusing periods of my life. I was nine. I’d seen the Detroit riots the previous summer, then suddenly the Vietnam War was bloody as Hell, and Martin Luther King Jr. was murdered in Memphis (all the while the Beatles were in India preaching love). That was when I realized that most adults aren’t as honourable as they pretend to be.