Love on Ice

Hockey and I have been together a long time. I remember cohosting "Hockey Night from Canada" parties in the basement of ZBT with my homie Mike as far back as 1992. I remember banging on the glass with my pal Jack at the Cornell hockey games, while the crowd encouraged our boys to make the other team bleed Harvard Crimson.

Last year was the topper of my hockey life, when the Eagles won their minor league trophy and not one person at the Ranch missed the NHL. Unfortunately for the future of hockey, no one in America missed the NHL. Mary and I were at the Steakout Saloon on Wednesday, watching the Colorado Avs lose to the Edmonton Oilers, and the crowd was pretty into it. I was encouraged, as a hockey fan, but I'm not sure the damage from the strike will be repaired so easily. Even prior to the strike, hockey wasn't the most popular sport, and I get it. French dudes, bad hair, Canadians, unpronounceable Russian names - it looks a lot different than any other major sport. The rules are strange, they don't score that often, and unlike basketball, which virtually everyone has played at some point, most Americans have no firsthand experience playing hockey.

A week from today, Mary and I will make our triumphant return to the Ranch to watch the defending champion Eagles, and we couldn't be more excited. Mullets and teeth will be flying through the air, Homer will be dancing, and the cowbells will be clanging. Mary and I will pick out our new 19 year old boyfriends from the roster and wave our pretzels in the air, very much as though we just don't care.

Go hockey season!! I don't care that there are six hockey fans left on earth - I'm all fired up. If there's minor league hockey in your neighborhood, do yourself a favor and go check it out. As for the big boys in the NHL, we'll see. I haven't written them off entirely, but for now I'll stick with my local boys.

PS - When I ran spellcheck on this entry, NHL wasn't on the list of recognized abbreviations. That can't be a good sign.