I'm A Hockey Fan!

These guys are obviously fans.

I've seen "Miracle". I totally know about hockey. In the movie, you could tell when things were getting important and that's because they played that, "It's time to watch the show for real because we're playing this music, which much like Rocky, is letting you know that the underdog will always come out on top." I mean, who cares who has the puck? Who cares what the rules are? "Miracle" is a movie about struggle, about overcoming obstacles, and therefore, teaches us what is important in life and that would naturally be: kick the crap out of the Russians whenever you get a chance. No wait...that can't be right.

So, now that I've given you the pep talk, you've got to know that it' leading up to something. In the spirit of supporting the local team, Nick and I took in a Friday night hockey game for none other than the Beaumont (Texas) Wildcatters of the "Po-Dunk Towns Where No One Wants to Play" League (which Nick later informed me was TWO steps away from the NHL, where a fore mentioned Russians are taking over the league and forcing all of the American hockey players to live in towns like Beaumont and play in said "sub-farm team" leagues).

Now, besides the fact that one time I went to a hockey game in Salt Lake because I got free tickets and therefore learned first-hand that both blood and vomit really DO bounce on ice, I know nothing about the game of hockey (but I did wish that I had won the contest on the local radio where I could go to the game and watch rink-side from a ginormous hot tub).

Well, I guess that's a lie. I do know some stuff. I know that they play with sticks and little black disc called a puck. I also know that the little machine/car they use to re-do the ice after each period is called a Zamboni (PS if there are any Zamboni drivers out here who are keen on letting me have a test drive, let me know...maybe we can work something out).

With this knowledge under my belt, we joined generations of mullet baring, Miller lite drinking fans (and also mega-hockey fans, The Peterson Fam) at the Ford Arena to witness what can only be described as "mediocrity on ice" (and I can say that because having never actually PLAYED hockey, I probably don't know how challenging it can me. I mean, I can barely even stand up on ice skates).

As I understand it, the puck is supposed to slide gracefully across the ice, yet at this particular game, the puck got more air time than Michael Jordan. Another apparent illusion that I had was that a game without a fight begun by one player slamming another player against the side boards is no game at all. However, it appeared that the only scuffs on the Plexiglas came from the driver of the Zamboni who couldn't keep his machine straight (I call for his resignation and immediate replacement by yours truly).

I spent most of the game cheering for the wrong team wondering why on earth there were 20 people on the roster when only six from each team were allowed on the ice at one time. When I wasn't busy doing that, I sat there nursing my Diet Dr. Pepper, not knowing which team was on offense and which was on defense. I will have to say that I did enjoy the halftime show which consisted of awarding prizes to the winners of some chili cook off. Now that's entertainment!

So, to sum up, while it was nice to get out of the house and be around people, I spent much of the night wondering what the hell was going on. All I know is that if the Wildcatters are interested in keeping me as a fan, they're going to have to make some changes: #1 provide me with free nachos for life, #2 let me be on their 5-person dance team known as the "Ice Picks", #3 give me a job, and finally #4 ape "Miracle" by playing heart-pounding music whenever I'm supposed to be paying attention. I still won't know what's going on but at least I'll be able to say that I didn't miss the important parts.