Age Is Just a Number, Unless Your Employer Is the NHL.

The distraction: Here in Portland, the debacle over the #23 mystery player at our training camp has at last come to an end. The league has sanctioned the team with a fine for essentially hiding a non-drafted, ineligible player in plain sight. It may cost them a draft pick later to boot. Whoever it was and for whatever reason they did it, they obviously thought it was worth it. Enough said. Move on.

Me personally, I'm busy buying fatheads and Center Ice packages and jerseys and what not: I don't have time to give a rip about who he was. But I'm sure one way or another we'll see him down the road, so on with the countdown to the regular season. As of tomorrow, it will be exactly two weeks until the Portland Winterhawks' home opener. And later this month, my new home on Kukla's Korner will be unveiled. So, for me, it's a good season to be a hockey fan.

Of course, that's because I have plenty to distract me from the above mentioned debacle. Like this:

Article 8, Entry Draft: Since the Winterhawks have 13 players off to training camp, it seems appropriate to cover 8.6, Reserve List-Exclusive Rights, b) Drafted Players who leave the Major Juniors prior to age 20.

I hate numbers and love hockey, but alas: This rule is proof that hockey is all about numbers. If a player who is drafted as an 18-year-old ceases to play in the Juniors in the first League Year after he has been drafted, his drafting Club shall have the exclusive right of negotiation for his services until the fourth June1 following his initial selection in the Entry Draft. But if he's 19 when he's drafted, and ceases to play in the Juniors in the first League Year after he has been drafted, the drafting Club only has exclusive negotiating rights until the third June 1 following his initial selection in the Entry Draft.

I always wondered about how "hockey age" is defined, so I skipped ahead to this: 8.10, Age of Players. As used in this Article, "age 18" means a Player reaching his 18th birthday between January 1 preceeding the Entry Draft and September 15 next following the Entry Draft, both dates included: "age 19" means a Player reaching his nineteenth birthday by no later than September 15 in the calendar year of the Entry Draft: "age 20" means a Player reaching his twentieth birthday by no later than December 31 in the calendar year of the Entry Draft: "age 21" means a Player reaching his twenty-first birthday by December 31 in the calendar year of the Entry Draft and age "22" means a Player reaching his twenty-second birthday by December 31 in the calendar year of the Entry Draft. So, this explains the "late birthday" phenomenon. There, I get it. Now I feel better.

Morals of the story:

The game: So, if you're Sidney Crosby, age 22 is defined as "any player who lifts the Stanley Cup before age 22 in the calendar year in which you won the cup" and thereby becomes the youngest captain to hoist the prized trophy.

Life: I never cared about age until I hit 40 and realized that even boys in their early 20s are young enough to be my son and my body decided that it needed to do things like make my knees hurt while hiking and not be able to read close up. That and this rule got me to thinking: why do we care so much about age? The most awesome things I've ever done with my life happened well after I crossed the 40 threshold and I'm not done yet. But society thinks otherwise. Even late thirties is equated with mid-life crises, divorce, disillusionment and suburban angst. What if we had a rule like this in life, that defined our age to a T? What if 30 was defined as what it is? Old enough to know better and young enough to do it anyway. Or if 40 was understood to mean "bring it on." After all, if you make it that far, what else can life do to you? It's like, what else 'ya got for me?

My father used to say "life starts at 40" and now I get it. I may be well past the NHL's draft-eligible hockey age, but in life I'm just getting started. It's not too late until we're dead, and if 40 really is the end of the best years of your life, then why bother? Do I wish I could do a lot of things from my youth over? Of course. Would I go back to my 20s? Absolutely not. It was like being a teenager with credit cards and rent. Total nightmare. So, here's the deal: no, you can't go back in life, but as long as you're still breathing, you can always go forward.

Next up: Article 9, Entry Level Compensation.