Retrospect, vocabulary: “deke”: Canadian, eh?

Self-tutoring about people and events from the past: the tutor mentions the term “deke.”

In the confusing late-70s, I first heard the word deke. We were playing hockey, in our boots, on a frozen pond in PEI. There was a light dusting of snow on the ice, making it extra-slippery. One kid wanted to pass, but his would-be receiver was covered. “Deke him out!” he cried openly. His chosen receiver complied, doing some fake-to-one-side-then-shifting-the-other-way maneuver, and then was able to receive the puck; a few seconds later he scored.

“See? I told ya,” the passer celebrated as they jumped up and slapped hands. “You’ve just got to deke him out.”

This was one of the first times I realized that, not being in organized hockey, I was falling behind. Not only was my understanding of the game stagnant, while theirs was ever-growing; not only were my skills improving very mildly at best, while theirs were galloping forward; but also, they were outgrowing me in a cultural sense. They knew the word “deke,” for instance, having learned it in hockey. I immediately realized what it meant, but still too late.

I would hear the word “deke” many times after that; the kids who played hockey became increasingly dominant, so we heard more and more about it. Their dominance didn’t mean there wasn’t room for other people; instead, they created a new subculture exclusive to them. They weren’t just “person Q” any more; instead, they became “person Q who plays hockey.”

Hockey was rough, and so were those kids. They developed a sharper edge than the non-hockey-players. Moreover, they always went around in groups; being part of the team cemented friendships so that they were never alone.

While almost every kid played street or pond hockey, most kids still didn’t play organized ice hockey; however, I’d say a key 25 percent to 35 percent did. They were typically upper middle class; they were the ones who said “deke.” At Sunday skating at the rink, you’d know them by their ability to skate backwards.

Apparently, “deke” is a Canadianism which indeed springs from hockey. “Deke” means “decoy” and refers to a deceitful move that induces an opposing player to move out of proper position. It’s in this article of the Columbia Journalism Review.

Nowadays, I feel maybe I did get “deked” in the late ’70s, but I don’t mean in a hockey game. I mean that I should have paid more attention to what those hockey kids were saying. Being on a team, they were directed; kids like me were adrift. Perhaps I should have realized that, since they were unified, the hockey kids would write the story as we got older.

That pond-hockey game when I first heard “deke,” I think was on a Saturday evening in late January or early February in ’77 or ’78. It was a typical Canadian situation where you’re having fun but you can only last so long in the cold. Moreover, it was dark; we were playing by a nearby streetlight. About fifteen minutes after that fateful “deke,” we all went home – just as likely to watch a hockey game on TV.

Those hockey kids weren’t good or bad; they were just reality. Nowadays, I remember them fondly as part-tough, part-athlete, and part-jokester, in that unique way a Canadian kid could be.