Rinkside Reading

A friend once told me something funny about the old Hockey Night in Canada theme song: whenever she hears it, the smell of baked beans wafts up her nose. It is a uniquely Canadian kind of synesthesia, the product of Saturday-evening dinners in the 1980s and ’90s when her father—it was his night to cook—always made the same meal: hot dogs, french fries and beans. Saturday was the lone night of the week when TV was allowed during dinner, and the TV was only ever tuned to hockey. Hence the game’s anthem and the aroma of Heinz beans in tomato sauce.

It is a story Stephen Smith might sympathize with. In Puckstruck: Distracted, Delighted and Distressed by Canada’s Hockey Obsession, he writes about a connection to hockey that is just as personal and physical—and equally involuntary. “Hockey in the blood is a naturally occurring Canadian condition,” he explains. It is a viral sort of passion, easily caught and nearly impossible to dispense with, and the...