Hockey poem | Unpublished
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Jim O'Grady
Ottawa, Ontario
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#22 Jim O'Grady
Left Wing / Lawyer / Father

BORN: July 25, 1936, Timmins, Ontario
DECEASED: May 17, 2008, Ottawa, Ontario

Jim was an Ottawa lawyer whose hockey career stretches back to his midget days with the Noranda Toilers, 1951-52 All Ontario Midget AAA Champions. Coach of the Nepean Raiders, 1985-86 All Ontario Juvenile AAA Champions and many other NMHA teams, Jim leaves behind his wife Helen, a great fan and his son James, a goalie.

Jim practiced law for 46 years in Ottawa with Solway, Wright, Houston, Greenberg, O’Grady & Morin, his own firm O’Grady & Associates and Burke-Robertson.

Jim was a true renaissance man who loved life, good food and drink, great company and lively debate, sports, literature, music and theatre. He pursued the highest standards of professionalism in his career and was a friend to many.

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Hockey poem

January 28, 1990

I first posted my father's Hockey Poem in 2013 just before the NHL playoffs. I am posting it again today, in his honour as a great Canadian Irishman, on this special day, St. Patrick's Day. Its no cooincidence the Sens and Habs will lock horns again this weekend... :) 

Jamey O'Grady, 
March 17, 2017

In honour of my father, Jim O'Grady and his love of all things hockey. Especially his two favorite teams the Montreal Canadians and the Ottawa Senators who will go head-to-head in the first round of the Stanley Cup playoffs this year, I am publishing one of his poems appropriately entitled 'Hockey'. Jim dedicated this classic poem about our National past time, to four hockey moms who watched every game their kids played growing up: Gerda, Helen, Shirley and Valerie.

He also dedicated it to his cousin, former NHLer and Hockey Hall of Famer Murray Costello, and to his mentor Larry Pennell. Jim O'Grady passed away on May 17, 2008.

 

HOCKEY I ache with tension gut to spine, The moment hushed, the anthem sung;
I stare at skates I sense are mine, the puck is dropped, the game begun.
I smell the ice, so hard and cold, I cleave the wind my visor breaks;
I cease all thought of growing old, I live the youth my skating makes.
I sense the net, and cut and lean, I swoop like hawk or eagle wild;
I spin, I leap, I have not been So strong, so quick, but as a child.
A distant din booms in my ears, my eyes delight at edges’ flash;
These sights and sounds unite my years: The goalpost’s ring, the bodies’ crash.
On knife-sharp blades I turn and glide from earth-bound cares apart;
A gasp of joy to fuel my stride, And freedom dancing in my heart.

©M.J. O’Grady January 28, 1990

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