Stompin’ Tom Connors – The Hockey Song

Introduction

There are songs that you listen to, and then there are songs that you feel. Stompin’ Tom Connors’ “The Hockey Song” is definitely the latter. From the moment it begins, you’re not just a listener; you’re in the stands of a roaring arena, the air is cold, and the excitement is electric.

This song is pure, unadulterated joy. It’s a love letter to Canada’s favorite pastime, and it perfectly captures the heart and soul of what makes hockey so special. The story it tells is simple and universal to any fan. It starts with that pre-game tension, the feeling in the air right before the whistle blows and the puck drops.

What makes this track so brilliant is its simplicity and vivid imagery. You can practically see the “skates flashing” as players dash across the ice. You can feel the collective gasp of the crowd as a team fights to “get the puck across the line”. Stompin’ Tom isn’t just singing about hockey; he’s narrating the emotional rollercoaster of a live game, from the tension of the second period to the explosive joy of a goal.

And the chorus? “Oh! The good old hockey game, is the best game you can name!”. It’s chanted with such passion and sincerity that you can’t help but get swept up in it. This isn’t just a song for the die-hard fans; it’s for anyone who understands the thrill of competition and the pride of cheering for your team.

Ultimately, “The Hockey Song” is about more than just a sport. It’s about community, passion, and a shared identity. It’s the soundtrack to countless winter nights, a song that brings people together and ends, as all great hockey stories should, with the dream of filling the Stanley Cup. It truly is the best game you can name.

Video

There are voices that never fade, even after the stage lights have gone dark. In Springhill, Nova Scotia, people still whisper that on quiet, windless nights, inside a small chapel, a familiar singing voice can be heard echoing. Not a recording, not a speaker… but a raw, pure voice, as if it were singing just for them. They say it is the voice of Anne Murray — the “Snowbird” who once cradled the whole world in her song.

Some people carry two heartbeats within them, two burning passions that seem worlds apart. Look at the man in this picture. That gentle smile, those eyes twinkling with joy after a fiery race. The dirt, the grease, and the worn-out racing suit can’t hide the soul of an artist. He sits there, on the car that has been his partner through thick and thin, clutching his helmet. He looks every bit the part of a true racer, a conqueror of speed. And he was. But did you know that beneath that rugged exterior was one of the golden voices of country music? This is Marty Robbins. A legend. People knew him for his timeless ballads, melodies that touched the deepest chords of the heart. But few knew of his intense love for NASCAR racing. His life was a song with two contrasting movements: the romance of music and the ferocity of speed. In this very moment, perhaps just as the engine’s roar faded, a melody of his own creation might have echoed in his mind. A song that felt like the anthem of his dual life – “Twentieth Century Drifter.” He didn’t just sing about gunslingers in the Wild West; he also sang about himself, a drifter on both the stage and the racetrack. One man, two lives. Doesn’t it make you curious about the story of this extraordinary man?

There are songs that feel less like music and more like confessions whispered from the heart. “I Can’t Help It (If I’m Still in Love with You)” is one of them. Written by Hank Williams in 1951, it has long been a timeless hymn of longing—but when Marty Robbins gave it his voice in his 1968 album I Walk Alone, the song seemed to ache in a new, almost unbearable way. By the late ’60s, Robbins was no stranger to love’s wounds. His version doesn’t rush, doesn’t plead—it simply surrenders. You hear it in the way he shapes each line: a man standing still in the ruins of memory, powerless against the sight of someone he once loved now smiling at another. There’s no anger, no bitterness. Just that quiet, aching truth we’ve all known: sometimes the heart refuses to let go, no matter how much time has passed. Listening today, it’s not just a country classic. It’s a mirror. For anyone who has ever smiled politely while their heart broke in silence, Marty’s voice says the words we couldn’t.

Stompin’ Tom Connors – The Hockey Song

There are voices that never fade, even after the stage lights have gone dark. In Springhill, Nova Scotia, people still whisper that on quiet, windless nights, inside a small chapel, a familiar singing voice can be heard echoing. Not a recording, not a speaker… but a raw, pure voice, as if it were singing just for them. They say it is the voice of Anne Murray — the “Snowbird” who once cradled the whole world in her song.

Some people carry two heartbeats within them, two burning passions that seem worlds apart. Look at the man in this picture. That gentle smile, those eyes twinkling with joy after a fiery race. The dirt, the grease, and the worn-out racing suit can’t hide the soul of an artist. He sits there, on the car that has been his partner through thick and thin, clutching his helmet. He looks every bit the part of a true racer, a conqueror of speed. And he was. But did you know that beneath that rugged exterior was one of the golden voices of country music? This is Marty Robbins. A legend. People knew him for his timeless ballads, melodies that touched the deepest chords of the heart. But few knew of his intense love for NASCAR racing. His life was a song with two contrasting movements: the romance of music and the ferocity of speed. In this very moment, perhaps just as the engine’s roar faded, a melody of his own creation might have echoed in his mind. A song that felt like the anthem of his dual life – “Twentieth Century Drifter.” He didn’t just sing about gunslingers in the Wild West; he also sang about himself, a drifter on both the stage and the racetrack. One man, two lives. Doesn’t it make you curious about the story of this extraordinary man?

There are songs that feel less like music and more like confessions whispered from the heart. “I Can’t Help It (If I’m Still in Love with You)” is one of them. Written by Hank Williams in 1951, it has long been a timeless hymn of longing—but when Marty Robbins gave it his voice in his 1968 album I Walk Alone, the song seemed to ache in a new, almost unbearable way. By the late ’60s, Robbins was no stranger to love’s wounds. His version doesn’t rush, doesn’t plead—it simply surrenders. You hear it in the way he shapes each line: a man standing still in the ruins of memory, powerless against the sight of someone he once loved now smiling at another. There’s no anger, no bitterness. Just that quiet, aching truth we’ve all known: sometimes the heart refuses to let go, no matter how much time has passed. Listening today, it’s not just a country classic. It’s a mirror. For anyone who has ever smiled politely while their heart broke in silence, Marty’s voice says the words we couldn’t.