Thursday, February 24, 2011

Puttin' on the foil, Coach.

It seems all my posts this week are going to be inspired by events over the long weekend. Today is no exception.

Sunday, I gave H my Valentine's Day gift to him - tickets to the Rangers/Flyers game at Madison Square Garden*. H almost also received a quick blow to the head when he asked, "Oh, is W (childhood friend) coming with me? Is that why you asked me for his cell number last week?" Um, no, idiot, that was for help with the DVD player. I, the mother of your children, who used to go to games with you before you got me knocked up three times, am going with you.

I bought the tickets on StubHub and even after checking the MSG map repeatedly, I had no idea if they were good seats or not. The "handicapped accessible" seemed promising though, as perhaps they had extra leg room. We arrive at The Garden, find our seats and, there's extra legroom, alright. You know those folding chairs they put right behind the rail at the top of each section? Those were our seats. As and added bonus, ours were literally right in front of the concession stand. I started panic sweating, envisioning the fight I would inevitably get in when some Ranger-jersey-wearing skank in gold lame Uggs and giant hoop earrings pushed up against my back holding two very full souvenir cups of Coors light precariously over my head screaming, "LET'S GO RANGERS!".** (Can we all just agree, ladies, that wearing a sports jersey is just so very unflattering after the age of thirty? If you are so in love with a team that you simply can not attend a game without one, can we at least set some ground rules? You can not wear a jersey and heels. You can not wear a jersey and carry a giant, glittery purse. At least try to look sporty.) Anyway, the seats wound up being pretty great, actually. The beer line never got too long and since I was the one getting up to get H beers***, waiting in that line, it was nice not to have to brave the crowd to try and get a full cup back to him.

During the game, I realized I had forgotten how much I like hockey. Sports hold very little interest to me, but doing anything without the kids is fun, especially if beer and hot dogs are involved, so I go when the opportunity presents itself. When I am at a hockey game though, I actually watch. Hockey is so vastly superior to other sports in so many ways, I'm surprised more people aren't into it like football (or as my brohter in-law calls it, Football: The Worst Show Ever).

You have go to love that it's indoors. How can you beat that? It's hard to look cute when you're getting skin cancer at a Yankee game, or freezing to death at Giants stadium. I'd say hockey is the perfect date sport (yeah, yeah basketball, I hear you. You're OK too) since you have to wear a few layers ,but not too many that you look like Randy from A Christmas Story.

Another thing I love about hockey is play is pretty much non-stop. Football makes me want to pull out my own finger nails with all the waiting between plays. It's a game people, not Operation Desert Storm, throw the damn ball and run. As a child, watching the clock tick down on a Sunday Jets or Giants game, desperate to watch anything other than football on my family's one television, only to have the clock stop for the tenth time in five minutes nearly drove me to insanity. A hockey game is three quick periods with minimal breaks in between. Half-time show? I love when The Rangers have Pee Wee teams play between periods, with their giant helmets and little bodies, they look like live bobble-head dolls, but they play for all of five minutes, the Zamboni (which I am desperate to drive) cleans the ice and it's game on. This proves, in my opinion, what great athletes hockey players are. Did you enjoy your little rest Mr. Quarterback? Did you get a nap in?

And speaking of athleticism, I think hockey players are the most skilled professional athletes out there. They are playing a game, while doing something considered a difficult sport on its own - ice skating. How about basketball on a pogo stick, or football on a unicycle? Anyone can run in all different directions, try skating backwards while trying to handle a puck.

It's not just the game, but the culture of hockey that I love. Most of the players are shy, farm boys from the snow-bound states, Canada, or Russia. They don't take themselves too seriously. I haven't heard of any side-line reporter scandals in the NHL, have you? To my knowledge, no one in the league has recently shot himself accidentally in a night club. OK, I'll say what you're thinking. If hockey is such an innocent sport, then why are so many players missing teeth? Yes, hockey is the one sport other than, you know, boxing, where fighting is encouraged. While, technically, the NHL has tried to crack down on the brawls, it can not be prevented. Hockey without fights is like football without obnoxious end zone dances - something we know is wrong, but secretly enjoy.

Perhaps my perspective is a bit skewed since H actually plays hockey. In fact, I had never watched a game until I went to a college with a great hockey team and too many intramural teams to count (even my sorority had one, which was really just a bunch of us holding on to the boards with sticks in our free hand while the other team kicked our asses). H still laughs remembering my comment during one of my first games, "Aw, isn't that denfenseman nice, giving his stick to the forward after his just broke?" I guess that's what they're taught to do or something. However, the effect of H in his goalie pads can not be discounted from our budding romance. I still sort of have a thing for it, and if they didn't smell like a dead body, they would definitely be making an appearance in our amorous activities. Fantasies aside, hockey is part of the culture in our house. We quote Slap Shot a little too often (see the title of this post) and H is over the moon about the fact that #1 has finally, finally learned to ice skate so we can get a stick in her hands. She has a leg up, grow up with a dad who can skate backwards, but having given her my eye-hand coordination, I am a little doubtful. Our only other hope is Little Man, since #2 cries when she sees the ice.

Even if none of them wind up playing, hockey will be a big part of their lives. H was just contemplating whether they were too young to watch Miracle, the movie about the 1980 Olympic gold medal hockey team - the drunken tomfoolery in several scenes earned it a big "no" from me. I do hope H continues to play long enough for his kids to see a game (considering the adult leagues play way after their bedtime, that is a long ways off). If that is the case, his pads are so old and disgusting he might need to buy a new set. Hmmm. Those might come in handy before their first use....


*Odd sidebar - we ran into the monk who married us on the street after the game. Weird
**This description is based on an actual woman sitting three rows in front of us.
***Can we say "best wife ever"? When H asked why I was being to so nice to him, other than the fact that I love him and the poor guy rarely gets to see live sporting events, I reminded him my interest in the game could in no way match his and if we were to ever go see, say,
Sex and the City Live, I'd expect him to wait in line for champagne as payback.

2 comments:

kk said...

hockey is awesome. I played for the first time when i was 17 and was DEVASTATED not to have found it earlier. i think i would have liked it even more than soccer.

you should drive a zamboni machine when you retire

Anonymous said...

Not sure about other cities, but where I live, many of the players live in the suburbs with their families. I met one recently, he very non-chalantly introduced himself to me at a school function. Saw the "enforcer" walking home from the park holding his little son's hand and carrying daughter in baby bjorn - tough to picture football players this way!