Well mom, you’re not the
boss of me anymore. It’s my party so I can write angry if I want to.
Someone’s having a party?!
Shut up! Just shut up. So
rude. But now since you’ve broken the question seal, hit me with the one I know
is burning you up. Go on. Get it over with. I’m waiting.
Seriously? You’re not gonna
inter—
Why so angry, Brad?
I FUCKING KNEW IT! You are so predictable!
And you are angry.
You’re right.
**sniffle**
I am angry.
You see, I fucking love
hockey. I do. I was born in Minnesota, the State of Hockey, and though I don’t
live ther—
How can it be the State
of Hockey if you haven’t even won a Stanley Cup?
You shut your fucking mouth right now! F ucking, mouth.
**sniffles**
**spraying paint in bag and
big sniffle**
Hockey! That’s what I was talking about.
I love hockey. There is
nothing more in this world that wrenches the profanity spout wide open like when I’m watching a game on the teletube. Nothing gets me loud and outta my
chair like a goal. Imagine a blender with rusty gears losing its top at the
peak of its cycle, spraying shrieks and flailing arms all over the room. Everyone gets dirty. Some get hurt. A few have even died. Not my problem. Don’t
stand so close to the blender.
I love hockey and have a
swell of pride in the fact that Minnesota truly is the State of Hockey.
Remember the last time the
USA Men’s Hockey won a gold medal? Neither do I, and it’s not because I was
stoned. It was because, being in 1980, I wasn’t born yet (but God—along with my
siblings—knows my parents were trying). Well, it was historic, dubbed the
“Miracle On Ice,” it was. In 1999 Sports Illustrated crowned it the greatest
sports moment of the 20th century. Ask anyone who was in the
comprehension stage of their life in 1980 and they’ll tell you it was a massive
deal. And guess where 8 of the 20 players on that team were from. Not
Minnesota. But 12 of the 20 were, and that doesn’t include the head coach (also
a Minnesota native).
I'm a softie. I cry every time I watch this movie. "Who do you play for?"
"The United States of America!" Tears. Hell, I well up watching the trailer.
How about one of the largest
high school tournaments in the nation? The State Boys’ High School Hockey
Tournament has been rocking since 1945 and Minnesota nearly shuts down for it.
If your team is in it, chances are you’re getting out of school that week to
go. If your team didn’t make the cut, you can soak your tears in root beers at
home as you watch it because damn right the entire thing is televised.
Then there’s the fact that
Minnesota produces more NHL players than any other state. Oh, and did I mention
we have the U.S. Hockey Hall of Fame in Evelyth, MN. I’ve been there and it’s
suuper neato.
Get to the point, buster.
Would you relax? Stop to smell the roses once in a while.
That's a bag of air and spray paint. You have a problem.
My problem is the fact that Minnesota can’t seem to put a fucking winning professional hockey team together. And we have the scar to prove it.
How many ways can I say this? It's an abstract picture. See the animal?
See the trees? See the river? The moon? The North Star?
See the trees? See the river? The moon? The North Star?
Huh, well lemme put in a call to see if they can make it simpler for you.
Imagine the sports
team that you enjoy watching more than any other. Maybe it’s a football team
you latched onto before you even realized there was an entire league of
football teams. Maybe it’s a baseball team you’d watch with your dad and mom
and brothers and sisters at the ballpark, back when the crunch of peanut shells
under your feet was both frightening and exhilarating. Or maybe it’s a
basketball team that glues you to the tube, one where a big shot shoots you out
of your seat and compels you to meet a high-five quota. Now imagine if that
team, the team that casts family conflicts aside, one that conjures
conversation between perfect strangers, a team that bridges political,
religious, and other ideological differences, and one that plays a sport that
has a history in your state dating back to 1905, moves. Poof. That team is now
gone, off to another state. No more Boston Celtics. No more St. Louis
Cardinals. No more Green Bay
Packers. That’s what happened with professional hockey in Minnesota. The
Minnesota North Stars dropped the “North” when they migrated to Dallas. The
owner, Norm Green, wasn’t seeing enough green in his bank account after a few losing seasons so he moved
my team to a place that can’t even make ice on its own. And it broke a lot of
hearts, including mine.
Go puck yourself, Norm Green! Puck yourself right in
your pucking puck hole you mother pucker! PUCK!
It feels
ridiculous to piss and moan about a sports team when suffering shows everyday
on the faces of those holding cardboard signs at city intersections. But as
idiotic as it sounds, sports can help alleviate suffering. They have the
ability to unite a city, state, or country, to spring hope from a well thought
to be dry, and to distract fans from the day to day that has the tendency to
bog people down.
But they also have the
ability to infuriate people. A study of NFL games from 1995 to 2006 revealed
that the number of 911 calls regarding domestic violence increased by 10%
within an hour of the home team losing.
Who’s
fucking blahg is this?
Yours, but the study goes
on: If the game was against a division rival, the number of calls shot up by
20%.
Yeah, so
there are people out there who clearly don’t know how to decompress after a
loss. What? Why are you looking at me like that? Hey, I punch pillows not
women.
That’s what they all say.
Actually, I’ve watched a lot
of Law and Order, and I’ve never heard an abuser say that.
Really? Your defense is a scripted shitty
cop drama?
You’re right. That was dumb.
Believe me, I already know it’s silly to give control of my emotions over to something I have absolutely no control over. But I have a pride in my home state and a passion for one of its main claims to fame: hockey.
Way better.
Wouldn't you agree, Detective Benson?
Believe me, I already know it’s silly to give control of my emotions over to something I have absolutely no control over. But I have a pride in my home state and a passion for one of its main claims to fame: hockey.
It just plain pisses me off when we, the State of Hockey, can’t even make it to the playoffs, let alone put together a Stanley-Cup-winning team.
“Tampa
has a cup,” said a friend from Florida a few nights ago, as I was bitching on
and on. He was referencing the Tampa Bay “Lightening”, a team that won
the Stanley Cup in 2004. “And I’m pretty sure nobody in Florida really cared.”
See?
Do you see my frustration?
The Minnesota Wild suck. They’ve never made it to the Stanley
Cup in their 11 years of existence. The North Stars, rest their soul, never won
a Cup either, until they changed their name and moved to Dallas, TEXAS! And this all makes me angry and sad.
At least there's one southern team that will never win a cup.
Another thing that makes me sad is when I'm at a game in a different arena and I look up to see Stanley Cup Champion banners hanging from the rafters and then I look around to see many of the fans cheering that their opponents just got called for offsides. It's offsides! It's not a goal, you clowns. It's not a penalty or an icing or anything else that actually matters. You're an embarrassment to the game.
I’m
writing this while watching the final Wild game of their embarrassing 2011-2012 season, a
season that started with a flurry of wins, a season where the Wild found itself
atop the entire league halfway through December only to see a plague of
injuries and an erosion of confidence choke them out of game after game. At present moment, they
sit six-and-a-half games out of a playoff spot. They’re losing by a score of
4-1 to the Phoenix Coyotes, who sit in 3rd place in the Western
Conference and will begin their playoff series this week.
Phoenix, ARIZONA!!!!!
**spraaaaaaay**
**snifffffffff**
**snore**
Did you enjoy this blahg entry? Then one-time it to all your friends so they can get a giggle or two.
Did you enjoy this blahg entry? Then one-time it to all your friends so they can get a giggle or two.