That seems like an odd desire, after watching the deconstruction of the Canucks last night. (For those living on the other side of the moon, the Canuckleheads got their butts kicked 8-1 in the biggest display of testosterone-gone-wild that I’ve seen since the last time I tried to watch UFC.) After that petulant display of bad sportsmanship, you’d think I’d be tempted to give up watching hockey altogether.
But then I got to thinking . . . what would it be like to live like a hockey player all the time?
For example, I was driving around after the game last night. A giant pick-up truck zoomed up behind me and roared past, crossing double yellow lines to do it. I had a sudden urge to hip check him as he went by and flip him over my back.
Another example . . . ever try to walk through the halls between classes at a University? Picture a wall-to-wall throng of students, 90% of them with heads down, thumbs hard at work on their cell phones. A banana slug could move faster. Now picture yourself carrying a hockey stick. A less-than-gentle little cross check here and there ought to clear your path. (Don’t worry, the refs won’t call it unless the student falls down screaming. Even then, they might call the student for diving, as long as you don’t draw blood.)
Or waiting in line at Universal Studio’s Islands of Adventure. The crowd closes in around you and the tension builds. “That’s it!” you yell after some woman’s purse bumps your backside for the 37th time. You throw down your camera and your backpack and start flailing away at her. Some of your blows actually land. The crowd screams encouragement and waves banners and towels to cheer you on.
Yeah. Yeah. I could be a hockey player.
*This entry was inspired by Shannon Mayer’s blog.