The Whistling Contest
The warbler, the mascot, and me. Oh, and five thousand hockey fans.
I was all set to enjoy a hockey game at our city’s coliseum. My friends waved me over from their seats near the aisle. Before I knew it, an usher led me away from our row, saying “follow me”…
“You’re up.”
I step forward under the bright lights, making sure not to trip over a wrinkle in the red carpet. I feel dizzy when I look at the crowd, so I look down to steady myself.
How did I get here?
Back at my local rink, I do a few cross-cuts and glide through the straightaway. I love the feel of skating.
I started in figure skating as a child, then played hockey for years. Outdoor rinks, indoor arenas, occasionally on a pond or lake when the conditions were right. Once, over ice-glazed pathways in an urban park! My favourite is the Rideau Canal in Ottawa, five miles each way. For a time, I lived near one end of the canal and could skate to my office downtown.
Now I’m doing laps around an indoor rink. It’ll do – it’s a social time at the public skate – and I enjoy being back in an arena. I endure Neal Diamond’s “Sweet Caroline” scratching through the speakers while I wait for the Beach Boys “Help Me Rhonda”. Technically, it’s an over-50 age group, so I’m eligible, but most skaters are much older.
Maureen waves me over. Maureen organizes this skating session, right down to the old-school music. She loves to find deals on Groupon and gather a posse to participate in outings. This one sounds great: $1.49 Day at the Vancouver Giants hockey game. Buy a regular priced ticket, and get another for $1.49. Similar deal for the burgers and popcorn. Count me in!
It’s a great chance to do something relaxing with a bunch of new friends. I can get anxious if I spend too much time on my own. In fact, I’ve just finished a workshop on managing anxiety. They say to take action, get some exercise, and take baby steps toward a goal. Then it gets easier – and you can up your game.
Anyway, it’s good to get out for some fun! This hockey game sounds ‘just the ticket’. It’s been awhile since I’ve seen this calibre of play – some of the guys in this league will soon go to the NHL.
We take transit to the Coliseum – best way to get there, plus I’ll be able to enjoy a couple of beers at the game. There are about eight of us. Maureen has selected the seats and hands out the tickets as we enter.
It’s a whirl of activity in the foyer. A retro theme honours the longstanding iconic local Woodward’s store. When I was a kid, they had Dollar Forty-Nine Days to entice shoppers to the store. I’m sure I went several times, but mostly I recall the Breakfast with Santa – asking myself “wait a minute, how can that guy be here, now?”. I still remember the taste of toast and jam, as I puzzled over what I was being sold. A skeptic at age six – ‘all aboard’ the anxiety train of thought!
My original button from Woodward’s Breakfast with Santa circa 1967!
By far the most memorable – unforgettable even if you try – aspect of ‘$1.49 Day’ is the jingle. Decades later, there it is, tucked-away in that vault in my brain reserved for jingles and those Barry Manilow songs I can’t stand. (Maureen also favours him on her skating sound track.)
“Dollar forty-nine day, WOODwards, Dollar forty-nine day TUESday.” Catchy tune – and repetition is key.
So here we are! I’m sitting furthest in, which is good, as I settle with my big burger and fries on a cardboard tray on my lap. Sadly, no beer! Maureen has chosen the ‘no-alcohol’ section?! I had no idea there was such a thing. Flashback of my teenage brother handing me my first beer (Molson, he pointed out) at age nine at the Montreal Forum, as I strained to see over the boards from where we stood. Our view here is great and the crowd less rowdy, but no beer? I can go enjoy one in the upper levels during intermission, but it sure would be nice about now.
The players zip onto the ice to begin their warmup. Bang! The sound of pucks off the boards. I don’t mind being a few seats away from the chatty ones in our group, to focus on the game.
A staff member speaks with Maureen at her aisle seat. Probably she talked with the management, as organizer extraordinaire. She and ‘the gals’ chat with the guy. They say something that I can’t hear over the music, so I just nod and smile. Maybe Maureen is getting us some free swag. I used to love that as a kid with my sister at Expos Baseball games – ball day, cap day, bat day.
My mouth’s dry from popcorn. Should’ve got buttery topping!
Maureen waves me over, as the staff member awaits. Good thing I didn’t sneak in a beer. Folks tuck in their legs and move stuff so I can pass.
Someone slaps me on the back, “good on ya!”. All smiles and thumbs up.
“What?” Turns out I just agreed to enter a whistling contest.
“Follow me.” The usher leads me up the steep stairs. We head around to another section to pick up another fan, a twenty-something in her boyfriend’s hockey jersey. Like the girls that would wait outside the Forum gobbed in mascara, while I sought Canadiens’ autographs as a preteen. We head down a long behind-the-scenes hallway. I hear the crowd roar at a good play – or maybe a missed opportunity.
Next, down an elevator – along with the sinking feeling that I can’t get out of this. It’s like I’m on a conveyor belt being whisked through the lower level of the building.
I’d really like that beer now.
We arrive at an area where the Zamboni machines are parked. There are a couple of fans, arena staff, and a small elderly fellow in a suit. Another usher arrives with two more contestants.
The buzzer sounds and the crowd roars – a goal for the home team! I try to glimpse the rink from here, but the view is blocked. I sure wish I could be back upstairs.
“First we’ll have ‘Guess the Attendance’, and then you guys are up. Just wait here to be escorted out.” We have to wait down here until the intermission, and miss the whole first period?!
Fan-girl asks “I don’t know the tune – do you?”
The contest is to whistle the Woodward’s jingle, and the winner will be selected by applause!
I feel for her – she wasn’t even born when this tune was played. At least I’ve got that going for me. I try to whistle. Nothing but faint air. She leans closer to hear. It’s pretty noisy down here – with all the ventilation and compressors or whatever makes rinks work.
My mouth is so dry from popcorn. No concession stand nor water bottle anywhere. I moisten my lips foranother try, but I’m sticky from nerves, too. I mimic the tune in “da da da-da’s”.
She pulls out her cell phone, presumably to look up the tune or give her boyfriend some grief, but can’tget coverage here in the bowels of the building.
Two other contestants – a couple of guys – seem relaxed and unconcerned as they discuss the last time these teams met.
The only other contestant is a tall guy whose Giants jersey stretches over his belly. Likely a season-ticket holder, he seems unconcerned about the wait. He also looks very confident, almost smug, as fan-girl and I struggle to bring our game.
I’m starting to get into this, at least to save face. I pace around a bit, practising my inaudible version, as I pretend to take an interest in machinery. I decide to save whatever pucker-power and saliva I have left for the main event. I hang back with the group and ty to look nonchalant. Season-ticket guy looks like a cat who swallowed a budgie.
The buzzer blasts to signal the end of the period. It’s so loud from here, like we’re in a huge ship. I can’t wait for this to be over, but the sound shocks me back into the reality unfolding. I don’t think this was the baby step they talked about in my anxiety class.
The ushers line us up: boy, girl, boy, girl. I realize that I represent a senior demographic.
The announcer blares: “Look at the attendance figures on the screen. Whoever entered the closest number will win the jackpot! Is it 2,436… 3,721?” The audience goes wild with applause and cheers after each number. “How about Five Thousand Three Hundred and Forty Four?”
Dramatic pause as the numbers swirl around on the screen, as each lights up in turn. The winning figure flashes in a burst of virtual fireworks. “You guessed it!! This is the highest attendance ever at a Vancouver Giants’ game. Give yourselves a round of applause!!”
It is at this moment that we are led through the entryway to the arena.
Vancouver Giants at Pacific Coliseum. Contestants enter from the right after they clean the ice. / Photo by Vince Kreiser per Daily Hive
It’s one thing to hear the number, quite another to see over five thousand judges in the stands. Even the mascot seems huge in relation to how tiny I feel.
The emcee makes a preamble about the contest. Turns out the elderly gent wrote the jingle as a young employee at the store. Got a little bonus and no royalties. I wonder how he felt every time he heard it on the radio. He sure enjoys the recognition now!
“And here we have our first contestant!” One of the guys makes a reasonable effort. The crowd voices their approval.
Fan-girl makes a weak attempt, yet seems to like the attention anyway.
Season-ticket guy steps up. He’s almost as big as the mascot. Looks like he’s about to sing the anthem – then he practically does! As if he did swallow a songbird, out comes a flowing floral warble with trills and heights, extra details and interpretations on the original – a virtuoso performance without compare! He smiles broadly and basks in the tremendous applause.
I feel outdone before I start. Part of me thinks “that’s not how it goes”, but there’s no disputing his championship whistling talent.
A woman in high heels hands me the mic. I know about her heels because I’m looking down. We are on a little stretch of carpet, in a sea of ice, surrounded by 360 degrees of fans. I’m afraid if I look up at the crowd, I’ll just freeze on the spot.
Holding the mic in my sweaty palm, I whistle from memory. I can’t hear a thing. It’s as if no sound is coming out at all. No idea if I’m off tune or if I’m just blowing air again. My heart pounds. But I keep going, and get to the end.
The final contestant performs. We’re done! I exhale and look around, to take in the moment.
Suddenly, I’m handed back the mic. They couldn’t hear well enough, so I need to do it over. This time I try to ‘enunciate’ each note. It’s old school, it’s plain – but it’s my level best. I know warble-guy has it.
They re-do the applause-meter, by having the mascot stand behind each of us in turn. There’s a surprising upswell when it comes to me! I have a fan base?! Huge cheers from one section, far from where my friends sit. I’m astonished – perhaps holding true to the original was somewhat popular?!
I bag second prize, with a gift card for the White Spot restaurant (purveyor of the burgers), which I’ll share with my arena pals.
Right now, it’s time for that beer.
Here's the guy! Tony Antonias, writer of the $1.49 Day jingle in his younger years. / Photo per New Westminster Record
One year later:
Turns out this is an annual event! Maureen and the gang get me psyched up for another try. I practice ahead of time. I down a beer right away, the popcorn will wait.
En route to the basement, we pick up another contestant – oh no – it’s warble guy! He flashes his Cheshire grin. This raises my competitive instinct, yet diminishes my chances.
We whistle. They applaud.
This time, I win!!
I’ve unseated the Champ, with all his falsetto vibrato. Retro takes the day!
written by Barbara L Campbell, 2024