It is a very well known fact that I love hockey. I make no effort to hide my passion, nor do I apologize for feigning paying attention to people when they are poorly positioned in front of a screen showing a game. Nothing about this side of me improves between April and June of every year (barring a lock out). I hermit away with friends, mostly male, and follow the NHL playoffs as though our lives depend on the outcome (they do). The race for Lord Stanley officially gets underway this evening, and I for one, could not be happier.
The female contingent of friends in my life do not understand this “craziness”, as they call it. Most of them could care less about the carnage that will be left in the wake of the Los Angeles Kings- St. Louis Blues series. They won’t have a vested interest in the outcomes of Boston and Toronto or Montreal and Ottawa. The sideline stories will have no consequence, either. Who cares if Number 87 battled back from a concussion. You probably remember he was out for over a year. Then he had his jaw broken by a puck. Crosby’s head has been through a lot.
No, to the ladies in my life, it does not matter that the Maple Leafs will be facing every terrible trade they’ve made in the last decade stare them in the face at puck drop against the Bruins. This is all OK. They (for the most part) understand that for about 3 and a half months every year, my priorities change around. I am not interested in martini night, shopping or lady gossip. I would much rather toss on a pair of jeans, my favourite Canucks T-shirt, grab a beer and sit in silence and watch a game or three in one evening. Bless their hearts for putting up with me.
This will be the first year ever, that I will be attempting to follow my hometeam’s playoff run from a different time-zone, and I cannot say that I am looking forward to it. Catching a Canucks game in Ottawa is hard enough during the regular season, but add in that their first round games all have a start time of 7:30PM PST, and it’s near impossible to find establishments or friends with appropriate cable packages to exploit. It is my quest, this playoff season to rectify this injustice. I will politely cheer for the adopted home-team’s victory over Montreal and revel in the superhero-like recovery of the Senators hot-shot defenceman, Erik Karlsson. And at 10:30PM EST I will plead with the person in charge of TV programming for the evening to please turn on, and turn up the real hockey game.
That’s it, ladies and gentleman, hockey’s second season has officially arrived, and I take no prisoners or fault for what may be said in the coming weeks in this blog.
Adieu, and good luck, fellow NHL fans.
P.S. Go Canucks Go!