I once heard it said that Sports were invented so that fathers could speak to their sons.
It's definitely true, at times.
I'll call my mother and we'll chat for twenty minutes, talking about movies, baking, trips, or whatever. And then she'll pass the phone to my dad, and within about three milliseconds, he's talking about some trade the Maple Leafs are about to close, and I'm complaining about how Dany Heatley just got traded.
To all those people who complain about sports, who say they're a waste of time, or violent, or whatever else, all I can say is that you're missing the point. Or that you know nothing about being male in the 21st century.
Sports allow two men to let their guard down, and share in something beyond themselves. They allow two self-conscious men, taught by society to be isolated and tough, to say without saying that they respect one another. And that, I think, is why I think so many people obsess over minute trivia - so at the end of the day, they have more to talk about in those brief moments when they let their guard down.
This is what I love most about sports. Everything else is just gravy.
Showing posts with label hockey. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hockey. Show all posts
A Dilemna:
I live next to a mall. This mall loves to stage events to draw in patrons, which has given the mall a special place in my heart. Recently, they've taken to showing the Stanley Cup hockey games in a central area.
They have two flat screen TVs, back to back, and bleachers on either side. Patrons can just grab a seat and watch a Canucks games - it really does seem to draw people in. Often, you'll see shoppers walk by, get slowed down by the game, and then absently grab a seat... leaving in the intermissions to head to the food court.
I watched a game there last night, and really enjoyed the experience. There's something fun about watching a game with complete strangers and not having alcohol be a factor. I fully endorse the event, except for one problem that caused me no small amount of anxiety.
See, if you look past your TV, you can see the people on the opposite set of bleachers, staring at the other TV. This is all well and good. However, there are a few intertwined facts that the event planners probably didn't think about when they conceived the idea. Namely:
They have two flat screen TVs, back to back, and bleachers on either side. Patrons can just grab a seat and watch a Canucks games - it really does seem to draw people in. Often, you'll see shoppers walk by, get slowed down by the game, and then absently grab a seat... leaving in the intermissions to head to the food court.
I watched a game there last night, and really enjoyed the experience. There's something fun about watching a game with complete strangers and not having alcohol be a factor. I fully endorse the event, except for one problem that caused me no small amount of anxiety.
See, if you look past your TV, you can see the people on the opposite set of bleachers, staring at the other TV. This is all well and good. However, there are a few intertwined facts that the event planners probably didn't think about when they conceived the idea. Namely:
- A large number of the spectators are "typical" mall patrons - women from the age of 14 to 30.
- It's summer time.
- During the summer, many women like to wear skirts or dresses.
- Women these days often aren't as used to the rules of skirts or dresses as the women of previous generations.
Long story short, a lot of women were accidentally flashing me. And I can presume that the women on my end of the bleachers were accidentally flashing the people on the other end of the bleachers.
Here's the question that bugged me, and which I still have no answer to. What do you do?
Do you go over to the woman in question and gently inform her that everyone can see her cooter? Do you tell the people at the concierge desk that they need to rethink the arrangement? Do you feel dirty and guilty for even noticing in the first place? (I did). Or do you shut up and pretend you don't notice?
Hey! A Drunk Blog Post:
The Sharks lost today. This sucks. I'm actually surprisingly bummed, considering that it's really just a case of a hockey team losing. But, well, I love my team, and I really had hopes they'd stop fucking the dog and make it this year. So, naturally, I've turned to alcohol for solace.
I'm drinking lamb's 151 and coca cola. But my fridge is very cold, and I'm drunk. So I'm having to open the coke with a pair of pliers. Which is probably a good idea to, you know, stop drinking.
But my mother didn't raise no quitters. So I'm busy killing my liver one poisonous shot at a time and listening to indie music on my awesome headphones.
And yeah, I'm drunk as I type this. I'm very eloquent when I drink, apparently.
I'm still in the safe zone, though. Because the 151 still tastes like poison. When it stops tasting like poison, I'll stop drinking. Because when that happens, you know you're fucked.
I'm drinking lamb's 151 and coca cola. But my fridge is very cold, and I'm drunk. So I'm having to open the coke with a pair of pliers. Which is probably a good idea to, you know, stop drinking.
But my mother didn't raise no quitters. So I'm busy killing my liver one poisonous shot at a time and listening to indie music on my awesome headphones.
And yeah, I'm drunk as I type this. I'm very eloquent when I drink, apparently.
I'm still in the safe zone, though. Because the 151 still tastes like poison. When it stops tasting like poison, I'll stop drinking. Because when that happens, you know you're fucked.
Playoffs
The Sharks lost today. At this point in time, they need to lose only one more before they're knocked out of the playoffs, and the Canucks move on to the next round. The Sharks would have to win the next three games if they want to carry on. Which is possible, absolutely. But it's a fact that definitely makes me nervous.
Naturally, I decided to shave my playoff beard, in hopes of changing some luck. So, the beard's been trimmed, the neckbeard is gone, and the head's been shaven. I feel so much cleaner, you wouldn't believe.
Still, I'm terrified for tuesday. I don't like seeing my team lose in the playoffs, and the last few games (even the one in which they won, on friday) have been rather stressful. I've been on the edge of my seat for a week now.
Naturally, I decided to shave my playoff beard, in hopes of changing some luck. So, the beard's been trimmed, the neckbeard is gone, and the head's been shaven. I feel so much cleaner, you wouldn't believe.
Still, I'm terrified for tuesday. I don't like seeing my team lose in the playoffs, and the last few games (even the one in which they won, on friday) have been rather stressful. I've been on the edge of my seat for a week now.
Hockey Stuff:
Wow. I just had something of a realization.
I've been a fan of the San Jose Sharks since the season after the NHL Lockout. The Lockout was in 2004-2005, meaning I've been following the team since 2005, and I've been a fan of the team since around 2006. This means I've been a fan of the team for about five years, give or take.
The Sharks turn twenty this year. Meaning I've been a fan of the team for about a quarter of their lifespan.
Just seems weird to think about, now.
I've been a fan of the San Jose Sharks since the season after the NHL Lockout. The Lockout was in 2004-2005, meaning I've been following the team since 2005, and I've been a fan of the team since around 2006. This means I've been a fan of the team for about five years, give or take.
The Sharks turn twenty this year. Meaning I've been a fan of the team for about a quarter of their lifespan.
Just seems weird to think about, now.
Neckbeard
Young men go through all sorts of crazy phases in their lives. Being capricious, whimsical creatures overburdened with energy and lacking in productive ways to expel that energy, they often find themselves engaged in all sorts of "learning experiences" that verge on the lethal.
What man in his twenties hasn't looked at a 40 oz. bottle of jack daniels and said "yeah, I could drink that"? Or looked at a one hundred foot cliff ending in a twenty foot deep pool and said "meh, I should be fine"?
I have done both of those things. I have also said such wonderful "manisms" as "guys, I'm not that drunk" and "come on, hit me with your best shot".
Yeah.
We young men find ourselves on all sorts of crazy adventures, often for absolutely stupid reasons. And I can't find a better example than the playoff beard.
For those not in Canada, here's the tradition: during the NHL Playoffs, you do not shave until your hockey team of choice has either won the Stanley Cup or been eliminated. Because this can mean sometimes more than a month of no shaving, it can often get very, very ugly. And yet, it's a national past time, and every year in april and may, you see all sorts of idiots completely unshaven, absently scratching at unfamiliar growth and apologizing for it every chance they get.
"Sorry about my face... it's, um, playoff season" they say, while avoiding the judge's gaze as they try to argue their way out of that DUI or fine for public urination.
I've tried to grow a playoff beard every year for the past four or so. Unfortunately, my team is the San Jose Sharks, so they've never been around in the playoffs long enough for it to matter. I usually get to the five o'clock shadow stage, and then loudly announce "how the hell did my team lose to the Anaheim ducks? Damn you, Emilio Estevez!"
But I think I know why they never made it very far. You see, I trimmed the beard. And I refused to allow the growth of neckbeard. Because who likes neck beard?
Communists and homeless people, that's who.
I didn't realize it, but I was cursing my team. So this year, I went full bore, and vowed to not shave - at all - until the Sharks either have the cup, or have died trying. And it's been brutal. Three weeks in, and I look like a homeless russkie begging for vodka. I am so fuzzy-faced, with a ginger beard, that Happy Apple has frequently referred to it as a "mane", and has recently dubbed me "Dandy Lion"
This is very unfortunate, and I've debated smothering Happy Apple with a pillow of some sort.
But it's too late for me to turn back. I have to ride this out, and hope for the best. Because sometimes, young men do stupid things. For no justifiable reason.
Besides, I could totally drink that.
What man in his twenties hasn't looked at a 40 oz. bottle of jack daniels and said "yeah, I could drink that"? Or looked at a one hundred foot cliff ending in a twenty foot deep pool and said "meh, I should be fine"?
I have done both of those things. I have also said such wonderful "manisms" as "guys, I'm not that drunk" and "come on, hit me with your best shot".
Yeah.
We young men find ourselves on all sorts of crazy adventures, often for absolutely stupid reasons. And I can't find a better example than the playoff beard.
For those not in Canada, here's the tradition: during the NHL Playoffs, you do not shave until your hockey team of choice has either won the Stanley Cup or been eliminated. Because this can mean sometimes more than a month of no shaving, it can often get very, very ugly. And yet, it's a national past time, and every year in april and may, you see all sorts of idiots completely unshaven, absently scratching at unfamiliar growth and apologizing for it every chance they get.
"Sorry about my face... it's, um, playoff season" they say, while avoiding the judge's gaze as they try to argue their way out of that DUI or fine for public urination.
I've tried to grow a playoff beard every year for the past four or so. Unfortunately, my team is the San Jose Sharks, so they've never been around in the playoffs long enough for it to matter. I usually get to the five o'clock shadow stage, and then loudly announce "how the hell did my team lose to the Anaheim ducks? Damn you, Emilio Estevez!"
But I think I know why they never made it very far. You see, I trimmed the beard. And I refused to allow the growth of neckbeard. Because who likes neck beard?
Communists and homeless people, that's who.
I didn't realize it, but I was cursing my team. So this year, I went full bore, and vowed to not shave - at all - until the Sharks either have the cup, or have died trying. And it's been brutal. Three weeks in, and I look like a homeless russkie begging for vodka. I am so fuzzy-faced, with a ginger beard, that Happy Apple has frequently referred to it as a "mane", and has recently dubbed me "Dandy Lion"
This is very unfortunate, and I've debated smothering Happy Apple with a pillow of some sort.
But it's too late for me to turn back. I have to ride this out, and hope for the best. Because sometimes, young men do stupid things. For no justifiable reason.
Besides, I could totally drink that.
Stupid Hockey Superstitions
Hi. My name is Crazy Newt, and I am a crazy hockey fan.
"Hi Newt!"
I, uh, well... I'm a pretty rational guy. I'm not very religious, and I believe fully in the power of rational thought over mysticism and superstition. I am not spiritual in any way, and I don't believe in the supernatural, divine powers, or fate. I believe logic should always prevail over faith-based arguments. I am a skeptic.
But, well, all of that is thrown out the window when it concerns hockey.
"Tell us more, Newt!"
Okay. Every year, during the playoffs, I stop shaving the day my team starts playing, and I grow hideous neck beards as a result. And they're really hideous next beards, man. Every time I turn my head, the friction starts a small fire. And I already get enough "flaming beard" comments as it is! Not to mention the second degree burns are never fun.
But I sincerely believe that, by not shaving, I am contributing to my team's odds of success. Even though thousands of other fans are also not shaving, trying to affect their own teams' odds of winning.
"But Newt, Playoff Beards are a hockey tradition! You're not crazy for growing one!"
Ah, my fellow idiots, but that's not the whole story! It gets worse.
"Oh. Well, tell us more!"
Check this out. I cannot talk about my team winning. If they have a five goal lead, the other team's goalie is an asthmatic wheezing on the ice, and there's only two minutes left in the game, I will still not say "well, they've got this one in the bag" or anything to that effect. And I will get frightfully angry if the announcers say something to that effect. And heaven help them should they say the "shutout" word.
I fully believe that the second I make a prediction on my team's success that my team is DOOMED to fail. I blame the 2008 playoffs against the Calgary flames for this one, during which the Sharks blew a three goal lead in one game and nearly lost the entire series as a result.
"well, uh... that's just superstition, but I guess it's okay...."
Oh, you stupid fuckers. It gets worse.
"Um, tell us more? Also, hey!"
Listen up. Every time I watch the sharks play, I have a certain rule that I have to follow. I must have on me an odd number of items with a sharks logo upon them. Seriously. I feel compelled to do this.
I sincerely believe that, should I have an even number of logos on me, my team will lose. And possibly, people could die.
This means that, when I watch a game, I usually have my sharks-branded ipod in my pocket, a sharks toque on my head, and one of my sharks jerseys on. And should my head get hot and I need to take off the toque, I have to do so at the exact same time I remove the ipod from my pocket, bringing the number of logos down to one. I have also gone in the other direction, wearing two jerseys, my sharks ipod, drinking from sharks mug, wearing a sharks tshirt, my sharks toque, AND my sharks cap.
I'm crazy.
And I honestly, seriously, believe that failure to do this will result in my team's losing.
"Okay, yeah... that's just crazy."
I know, guys. I know. My name is Crazy Newt, and I'm a superstitious hockey addict.
"That's great. But this is a McDonald's. Are you going to order anything?"
"Hi Newt!"
I, uh, well... I'm a pretty rational guy. I'm not very religious, and I believe fully in the power of rational thought over mysticism and superstition. I am not spiritual in any way, and I don't believe in the supernatural, divine powers, or fate. I believe logic should always prevail over faith-based arguments. I am a skeptic.
But, well, all of that is thrown out the window when it concerns hockey.
"Tell us more, Newt!"
Okay. Every year, during the playoffs, I stop shaving the day my team starts playing, and I grow hideous neck beards as a result. And they're really hideous next beards, man. Every time I turn my head, the friction starts a small fire. And I already get enough "flaming beard" comments as it is! Not to mention the second degree burns are never fun.
But I sincerely believe that, by not shaving, I am contributing to my team's odds of success. Even though thousands of other fans are also not shaving, trying to affect their own teams' odds of winning.
"But Newt, Playoff Beards are a hockey tradition! You're not crazy for growing one!"
Ah, my fellow idiots, but that's not the whole story! It gets worse.
"Oh. Well, tell us more!"
Check this out. I cannot talk about my team winning. If they have a five goal lead, the other team's goalie is an asthmatic wheezing on the ice, and there's only two minutes left in the game, I will still not say "well, they've got this one in the bag" or anything to that effect. And I will get frightfully angry if the announcers say something to that effect. And heaven help them should they say the "shutout" word.
I fully believe that the second I make a prediction on my team's success that my team is DOOMED to fail. I blame the 2008 playoffs against the Calgary flames for this one, during which the Sharks blew a three goal lead in one game and nearly lost the entire series as a result.
"well, uh... that's just superstition, but I guess it's okay...."
Oh, you stupid fuckers. It gets worse.
"Um, tell us more? Also, hey!"
Listen up. Every time I watch the sharks play, I have a certain rule that I have to follow. I must have on me an odd number of items with a sharks logo upon them. Seriously. I feel compelled to do this.
I sincerely believe that, should I have an even number of logos on me, my team will lose. And possibly, people could die.
This means that, when I watch a game, I usually have my sharks-branded ipod in my pocket, a sharks toque on my head, and one of my sharks jerseys on. And should my head get hot and I need to take off the toque, I have to do so at the exact same time I remove the ipod from my pocket, bringing the number of logos down to one. I have also gone in the other direction, wearing two jerseys, my sharks ipod, drinking from sharks mug, wearing a sharks tshirt, my sharks toque, AND my sharks cap.
I'm crazy.
And I honestly, seriously, believe that failure to do this will result in my team's losing.
"Okay, yeah... that's just crazy."
I know, guys. I know. My name is Crazy Newt, and I'm a superstitious hockey addict.
"That's great. But this is a McDonald's. Are you going to order anything?"
Random (dirty) sports joke I heard today:
I was sitting at a bar, minding my own business when I saw the most gorgeous woman come in. She had long brown hair, pouty lips, and, best of all, she was wearing a hockey jersey. Those who know me remember that women in hockey jerseys are my number-one turn on. Who cares that she was wearing a Toronto Maple Leafs jersey? I had to have her.
I walked up to her. "Hey. My name is three goal lead."
She frowned. "You name is not three goal lead."
"Okay, you caught me. It's not Three Goal Lead, it's Dave."
Puzzled, she said "Okay, I just have to ask. Why would you say your name is Three Goal Lead?"
"Well, I figured that any girl wearing a leafs jersey would just have to blow a three goal lead."
I walked up to her. "Hey. My name is three goal lead."
She frowned. "You name is not three goal lead."
"Okay, you caught me. It's not Three Goal Lead, it's Dave."
Puzzled, she said "Okay, I just have to ask. Why would you say your name is Three Goal Lead?"
"Well, I figured that any girl wearing a leafs jersey would just have to blow a three goal lead."
Weekly Haiku #31: Welcome back
been a long summer
long months of soccer... baseball...
welcome back, hockey
long months of soccer... baseball...
welcome back, hockey
Not a proud moment, but...
I had one of those "holy crap, I'm going to go to Hell" realizations the other day. They happen from time to time, before I'm able to shake off the tingly feeling down my spine by releasing some pent up energy. Usually by kicking a puppy, or laughing at an old person crossing the street or something.
Everyone needs a hobby.
Yesterday, I was walking out of my apartment when I saw a man wearing a Joe Thornton, San Jose Sharks hockey jersey. As I thought I was the only person in Victoria that actually liked the sharks, I got very excited to see this guy. His back was turned to me, and I grinned as he turned. The first thing he saw was yours truly, grinning broadly and waving an iPod proudly displaying the Sharks Logo (yes, I got a Sharks logo put on my iPod. Shut up).
"I love your jersey! Excellent choice! Thornton is awesome!"
He grinned back, and then mumbled really loudly. "Blargh guud mweyll lunngghhh".
Or somethign to that effect. And the first thing I thought was Ah. Crap. He's retarded.
My face fell a little bit, I forced a smile, and kept walking after giving him a bit of a wave. I was a bit embarrassed, and then realized if I mentioned it to somebody, the first thing they'd say would be "Of course he was retarded. You'd have to be, to be a sharks fan!" or something to that effect.
It wasn't until I got about twenty feet away before I turned to look back at him, crossing the street. That's when I realized.... shit, he's not retarded. He's deaf.
I felt bad for the rest of the day.
Everyone needs a hobby.
Yesterday, I was walking out of my apartment when I saw a man wearing a Joe Thornton, San Jose Sharks hockey jersey. As I thought I was the only person in Victoria that actually liked the sharks, I got very excited to see this guy. His back was turned to me, and I grinned as he turned. The first thing he saw was yours truly, grinning broadly and waving an iPod proudly displaying the Sharks Logo (yes, I got a Sharks logo put on my iPod. Shut up).
"I love your jersey! Excellent choice! Thornton is awesome!"
He grinned back, and then mumbled really loudly. "Blargh guud mweyll lunngghhh".
Or somethign to that effect. And the first thing I thought was Ah. Crap. He's retarded.
My face fell a little bit, I forced a smile, and kept walking after giving him a bit of a wave. I was a bit embarrassed, and then realized if I mentioned it to somebody, the first thing they'd say would be "Of course he was retarded. You'd have to be, to be a sharks fan!" or something to that effect.
It wasn't until I got about twenty feet away before I turned to look back at him, crossing the street. That's when I realized.... shit, he's not retarded. He's deaf.
I felt bad for the rest of the day.
A Complete aside:
God, those french canadians really like their hockey. Holy opening ceremonies, batman!
Legless Hockey...
My mom called me up yesterday, wondering if I was going to tag along on her trip to Vancouver. Y'see, my mom (and my sister) have absolutely no idea how to navigate Vancouver, and she wants yours truly to come along and help out.
The whole trip is for my family's sake - seems my mom and sister (and myself, actually, but I'm just a carrier - what can I say? I've always been a giver) have this rare disease. It's not a serious disease, but there are only a couple thousand people in North America that have it, so the medical types want to get as much info as possible on it. Which means my mom gets bumped to the head of the list in all sorts of tests she needs to get done, in relation to that ol' heart attack of hers.
I'm just coming along to make sure they get to the hospital. I suppose I could sit in the waiting room for seven hours, but... I don't wanna. So, after dropping off my mother and sister for their fun day of getting poked and prodded by med students who have only a passing idea of what they're doing, I have about seven hours on my lonesome in the lovely city of Vancouver... and I'm trying to figure out how to kill my time.
Of course, Vancouver is still an Olympic city - though I have a feeling the Special Olympics aren't quite as exciting for most of the population. Make of that what you will, but let's be honest - I think a lot of people have a harder time identifying with thegimps special olympians.
Am I the only one who is creeped out by this picture?
Now, I'll admit, after watching a couple games on TV, I'm curious about the sport... but it does give me the heebie jeebies. And yes, I'm aware that makes me a bad person. But I can't be that much of a bad person.
See, my beloved sharks are playing that day, too - in Vancouver. And instead of watching the game, I'll be on the ferry back with a bone-tired mother and a cranky sister. So, this awesome act of human-beingness outweighs the fact that I'm creeped out by the crippled.
Right?
The whole trip is for my family's sake - seems my mom and sister (and myself, actually, but I'm just a carrier - what can I say? I've always been a giver) have this rare disease. It's not a serious disease, but there are only a couple thousand people in North America that have it, so the medical types want to get as much info as possible on it. Which means my mom gets bumped to the head of the list in all sorts of tests she needs to get done, in relation to that ol' heart attack of hers.
I'm just coming along to make sure they get to the hospital. I suppose I could sit in the waiting room for seven hours, but... I don't wanna. So, after dropping off my mother and sister for their fun day of getting poked and prodded by med students who have only a passing idea of what they're doing, I have about seven hours on my lonesome in the lovely city of Vancouver... and I'm trying to figure out how to kill my time.
Of course, Vancouver is still an Olympic city - though I have a feeling the Special Olympics aren't quite as exciting for most of the population. Make of that what you will, but let's be honest - I think a lot of people have a harder time identifying with the
Which brings up the question... should I watch a game of Sledge Hockey? Now, I like hockey... and I want to support our canadian athletes, but... Sledge Hockey (or "Legless Hockey" as I've heard it referred to) kind of creeps me out in a way I can't really explain. But maybe this picture will:
Now, I'll admit, after watching a couple games on TV, I'm curious about the sport... but it does give me the heebie jeebies. And yes, I'm aware that makes me a bad person. But I can't be that much of a bad person.
See, my beloved sharks are playing that day, too - in Vancouver. And instead of watching the game, I'll be on the ferry back with a bone-tired mother and a cranky sister. So, this awesome act of human-beingness outweighs the fact that I'm creeped out by the crippled.
Right?
Our Olympic National Anthem
I'm a patriot. I have the maple leaf tattooed on my leg (and, for the last time, no, it's not a red potleaf!), and like any true patriot, I get piss drunk on Canada Day. I love everything my country stands for, with the exception of Nickelback, Celine Dion, and the entire province of P.E.I.
In case you didn't already know, the winter olympics start today in the amazing city of Vancouver, which is only a short ferryride away from my little neck of the woods. And, not surprisingly, I've caught a pretty big chunk of Olympic spirit. I'm cheering for Canada with all my being.
Except, there's a hitch. The Canadian national anthem is a little... lovey. It's all happy and proud and whatnot, when really, the purpose of a national anthem is to strike fear in the hearts of your enemies. You play your anthem at a hockey game, you want the other team to know that "hey, I'm a badass, don't mess with me".
Think about it. The Americans have an anthem about bombs and rockets going off. Italy's national anthem goes on about how they're ready to die (they would - nobody can turn losing a fight into a moral victory like the Italians). Hell, even the French anthem sings about slitting people's throats. The French, people. The French.
Are we about to be out-anthemed by a bunch of cheese-eating surrender monkeys? I think not.
So, with that in mind, your fearless blogger has made a few changes to the dear Canadian anthem, made particularly with the Olympics in mind.
In case you didn't already know, the winter olympics start today in the amazing city of Vancouver, which is only a short ferryride away from my little neck of the woods. And, not surprisingly, I've caught a pretty big chunk of Olympic spirit. I'm cheering for Canada with all my being.
Except, there's a hitch. The Canadian national anthem is a little... lovey. It's all happy and proud and whatnot, when really, the purpose of a national anthem is to strike fear in the hearts of your enemies. You play your anthem at a hockey game, you want the other team to know that "hey, I'm a badass, don't mess with me".
Think about it. The Americans have an anthem about bombs and rockets going off. Italy's national anthem goes on about how they're ready to die (they would - nobody can turn losing a fight into a moral victory like the Italians). Hell, even the French anthem sings about slitting people's throats. The French, people. The French.
Are we about to be out-anthemed by a bunch of cheese-eating surrender monkeys? I think not.
So, with that in mind, your fearless blogger has made a few changes to the dear Canadian anthem, made particularly with the Olympics in mind.
my Canada
will grind your bones to sand
our patriots' blood
will boo you from the stands
so go back to france
you euro trash
and fear this proud country
for if you don't
then Canada
will hockey stick your knees
God bless this land
and all our proud goalies
o Canada
We'll steal the gold, for thee
o Canada
We'll take the gold... for... thee.
Sad News:
A few months ago, I made a quick post about Brendan Burke, mentioning how great it was that the son of Maple Leafs' GM Brian Burke (and a hockey coach himself) had openly admitted his homosexuality. And I talked about how this was a very good thing in the realm of professional sports.
In super sad news today, Brendan Burke was killed in a car accident. He was only 21 years old.
In super sad news today, Brendan Burke was killed in a car accident. He was only 21 years old.
Marcus the Ferret
Saw a Salmon Kings game with Squee, Squee's brother, the Schlesbian, and Moon Rock (have I mentioned that I named the Schlesbian's boyfriend? No? Well, his new name is Moon Rock. So there).
Have to say, it was a pretty fun and interesting game, especially the part where Moon Rock knocked Squee's beer everywhere, making Squee smell like a priest on a weekday. Also a big fan of the two twenty-ish girls in front of us who were actually watching the game and not, say, texting the entire time (like the ladies brought by their boyfriends sitting a ways to my left).
It's good to know that the tradition of goalies leaving their crease to stop the puck when it goes behind the net isn't just going strong in the NHL, either - often leading to near misses when the opposing team grabs the puck. Both Squee and I were doing our usual curse and groan each time it happened. I'm pretty sure that's how I'll die - some sort of stress-induced aneurysm during a playoff game when my team's goalie goes to stop the puck and then isn't in net to protect it from some lame opposing team.
The cops will find my body, face down on my living room floor, with a hockey game on. "Another Luongo/Nabokov-caused fatality," one of the cops will intone, shaking his head mournfully.
"When will those goalies learn!?" the young rookie will say, wiping a glistening cheek.
"It's a crazy world, Rook... It's a crazy world."
Fade to Black as they walk into the sunset, with the camera slowly focusing on my dead face, frozen in an expression of hockey-panic.
Completely unrelated, I bought a book about ferrets at the pet store. And now I want a pet ferret. Named Marcus. For some reason, I find the idea of "Marcus the Ferret" particularly amusing.
That is all.
Have to say, it was a pretty fun and interesting game, especially the part where Moon Rock knocked Squee's beer everywhere, making Squee smell like a priest on a weekday. Also a big fan of the two twenty-ish girls in front of us who were actually watching the game and not, say, texting the entire time (like the ladies brought by their boyfriends sitting a ways to my left).
It's good to know that the tradition of goalies leaving their crease to stop the puck when it goes behind the net isn't just going strong in the NHL, either - often leading to near misses when the opposing team grabs the puck. Both Squee and I were doing our usual curse and groan each time it happened. I'm pretty sure that's how I'll die - some sort of stress-induced aneurysm during a playoff game when my team's goalie goes to stop the puck and then isn't in net to protect it from some lame opposing team.
The cops will find my body, face down on my living room floor, with a hockey game on. "Another Luongo/Nabokov-caused fatality," one of the cops will intone, shaking his head mournfully.
"When will those goalies learn!?" the young rookie will say, wiping a glistening cheek.
"It's a crazy world, Rook... It's a crazy world."
Fade to Black as they walk into the sunset, with the camera slowly focusing on my dead face, frozen in an expression of hockey-panic.
Completely unrelated, I bought a book about ferrets at the pet store. And now I want a pet ferret. Named Marcus. For some reason, I find the idea of "Marcus the Ferret" particularly amusing.
That is all.
I had to laugh:
A Quote from Brian Burke, general manager of the U.S. Men's Olympic Team:
(I'm paraphrasing)
"We know there won't be a dime bet on us in Vegas. If you start ranking the teams, it'll go Canada, the Soviet Union, Sweden, Finland... and I'm fine with being the underdog."
Great statement there, Burkie. Really, I admire your spirit. However.... Soviet Union? Are you kidding me? I seriously doubt anyone is going to be laying any bets on the Soviet Union's hockey team in 2010.
(I'm paraphrasing)
"We know there won't be a dime bet on us in Vegas. If you start ranking the teams, it'll go Canada, the Soviet Union, Sweden, Finland... and I'm fine with being the underdog."
Great statement there, Burkie. Really, I admire your spirit. However.... Soviet Union? Are you kidding me? I seriously doubt anyone is going to be laying any bets on the Soviet Union's hockey team in 2010.
The Canucks need a new theme song
Went to see the Canucks lose to the awesome sharks a little over a week ago. It was, as you can imagine, awesome. I'm sure there'll be details (and photos!) soon. But something struck me as a little odd, that needs to be addressed.
Namely, the song used to introduce the Vancouver Canucks.
These songs should be crazy, energetic, and somewhat intimidating. They should have a set of lyrics that foretells of the doom facing the opposing team. I'm thinking of songs like "Eye of the Tiger", or "The Boys are Back in Town".
Instead, they went with Pink Floyd's "Time". Which is, if you've heard the song, probably the weirdest opening song ever for an opener. I mean, we have a song about impending death, heralding the approach of the home team? It's not even a happy-sounding song!
But, maybe the music guy was prophetic? I mean, take a look at the lyrics (with notes made by yours truly!)
***
For the record, the Sharks won the game. And I was left wondering why anyone would pick that song. Or, really, any song off Dark Side of the Moon. And the second I heard the bells tolling, I knew it was a bad pick. Weird stuff.
Namely, the song used to introduce the Vancouver Canucks.
These songs should be crazy, energetic, and somewhat intimidating. They should have a set of lyrics that foretells of the doom facing the opposing team. I'm thinking of songs like "Eye of the Tiger", or "The Boys are Back in Town".
Instead, they went with Pink Floyd's "Time". Which is, if you've heard the song, probably the weirdest opening song ever for an opener. I mean, we have a song about impending death, heralding the approach of the home team? It's not even a happy-sounding song!
But, maybe the music guy was prophetic? I mean, take a look at the lyrics (with notes made by yours truly!)
"Time" by P. Floyd.
Ticking away, the moments that make up a dull day
Fritter and waste the hours in an offhand way (the canucks got spent the last two periods chasing the sharks)
Kicking around on a piece of ground, in your home town
Waiting for someone or something to show you the way (they played aimlessly and emotionlessly often)
Tired of lying in the sunshine, staying home to watch the rain (welcome to Vancouver!)
And you are young and life is long and there is time to kill today (playoffs are far away, and Vancouver is doing alright so far)
And then one day you find, ten years have got behind you
No one told you when to run.... you missed the starting gun
And you run and you run to catch up with the sun, but it's sinking (how many playoffs have the 'nucks missed by only a few points?)
Racing around to come up behind you again
The sun is the same, in a relative way, but you're older (their big stars aren't getting younger)
Shorter of breath, and one day closer to death (funny how a song about mortality is used to herald your team, eh?)
Every year is getting shorter, never seem to find the time
Plans that either come to naught or half a page of scribbled lines
Hanging on in quiet desperation in the English way
The time is gone, the song is over, thought I'd something more to say
Home, home again
I like to be here when I can (Canucks *do* have a better home game record)
And when I come home, cold and tired
It's good to warm my bones beside the fire
Far away, across the field
The tolling of the iron bell
Calls the faithful to their knees
To hear the softly spoken magic spells (i.e., a funereal - lucky 'nucks)
***
For the record, the Sharks won the game. And I was left wondering why anyone would pick that song. Or, really, any song off Dark Side of the Moon. And the second I heard the bells tolling, I knew it was a bad pick. Weird stuff.
HNIC
Last year, when Hockey Night in Canada changed its theme song, I was one of the many Canadians that was upset by the whole thing. After all, you have to be pissed when the CBC lets drop a 50-year old broadcasting tradition simply because they didn't want to pay the royalty fees. And then, to see that theme go to TSN, an AMERICAN broadcasting company? Sacrilege!
But now, at least a year later? I actually kind of like the new theme song. Especially, and you'll laugh at me here, the bagpipes. I don't know; the new theme song just seems more like hockey to me.
That is all. My game's about to start.
But now, at least a year later? I actually kind of like the new theme song. Especially, and you'll laugh at me here, the bagpipes. I don't know; the new theme song just seems more like hockey to me.
That is all. My game's about to start.
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