Monday, January 23, 2006

Hockey for Dummies

So last Tuesday night I went to my first ever Blackhawks game, which served as my first ever professional hockey game at all. The owner has season tickets, which he hands out like door prizes to all the people he likes that week, so I ended up watching my first ever professional hockey game from 7 rows back right behind the goal with the bartender, another bar employee (we will call him the body. Because the girls seem to enjoy his greatly ripped arms. I personally am not into such a build, but I thought "the body" was a nicer name than "the man-whore", if not quite as accurate.) and that guy's daughter.

The bartender and I got there well ahead of the body, which is to say we got there before the game started as opposed to halfway through the first period. We gathered some food and took it to our extremely awesome seats.

"Gene says nice sausage," said the bartender while looking at his phone. Apparently, my drinking buddy Gene Honda keeps binoculars up in his little PA announcer booth to spy on his friends in the not-so-cheap seats, and possibly scan the crowd for attractive women. He claims they are so he can see what's going on down on the ice, but when he texted us at the start of the third period, "Ice cream too!" I began to get suspicious.

Speaking of hot women, there was one just behind us. The bartender saw her first (as he tends to do). He elbowed me in the ribs. "Turn around." I did, and saw an attractive brunette about my age sitting with a guy who was completely unattractive and much much older. You know the Beastie Boys' Sabotage video, where they're dressed up like a 70's cop show with really bad helmet hair and huge unruly mustaches? That is what this guy looked like.

"Hot," I said, "but what is she doing with that guy? Is that her dad? Tell me that's her dad."

The bartender shook his head. "Money," he concluded. "She's with him because he has money." He paused. "I wish I had money. I need to fuck her."

As it turned out, I needed him to fuck her too, or better yet get a blow job from her, because as it turns out she has the duel problems of being incredibly stupid and unable to stop herself from talking.

Look, I'll be honest with you. I don't really know much about hockey. It's not a sport I've ever really followed. I used to go to a lot of games in college, but that was mostly to support my friend Mike and to scream "YEAH! MAKE HIM YOUR BITCH!" whenever someone got slammed into the boards. My knowledge of hockey is limited to the bare basics. I am not a hockey genius in any way.

But next to the hot dummy I certainly looked like one. For starters, she decided that she had a thing for Mark Bell, number 28 on the Blackhawks. But she couldn't figure out his name, even with it written on the back of his jersey. She simply referred to him as her boyfriend. "Look, there's my boyfriend!" she squealed everytime his line came on the ice. "Why is he leaving? Come back boyfriend!" she would cry out everytime his line went off. I rolled my eyes at the bartender.

"Not very bright there, your girl."

He grinned. "Those are the best kind."

Later she apparently missed the action while staring at her "boyfriend". Play had stopped for a hooking penalty. When she noticed no one was skating except one guy crossing the ice by himself, she questioned her benefactor. "What happened? Did that guy do something bad? Is he going to the bad boy box?" Later she would shorten this to "the bad box", which was only slightly less idiotic. I turned to the bartender.

"[Bartender], will you do me a favor and please go put something in her mouth? She just called the penalty box a "bad boy" box."

She then got loudly got confused about hockey having three periods instead of four quarters. I began to beat my head against the bartender's shoulder. I could hear the four guys sitting directly in front of her start speculating as I had that the poor stiff she was with was her dad. After having to hear about her boyfriend and how hot he was for nearly an entire game, Bell completely missed a pass and then immediately fell down flat on his face. One of the guys stood up pointing and shouted triumphantly, "THAT'S your boyfriend!" Our entire section busted up laughing.

Ultimately, the Blackhawks lost to the Islanders in overtime, but overall my first pro hockey game was pretty cool. I'm totally going again.

1 comment:

Cap said...

You know I used to be a season ticket holder too, right? I only did it so I could see the St. Louis Blues though...and I gave them up because I got sick of watching totally pathetic hockey. Seriously, the Wolves are more entertaining.