Sports and Max.

Y'all.  Hockey.

Can we talk? For a second?

If you don't know me, I am a HUGE sports fan. Like more than most men. Like obsessed.  Not in the way where I know stats on every player or the score of a game from ten years ago.  I am not THAT fan.  I just throughly like a good game.  It is my comfort food.  But hockey is one we don't really watch.  It is forgotten about until the Olympics or the Stanley Cup Playoffs roll around.  Then we are hooked like crazed fans, yelling at the tv, pacing, cheering... every. single. game.  Each game asking each other "How do we always forget about this sport? It is AWESOME!!"  Because it is. It really is.

Guess what? It is playoff time.  And the hubbs and I are all up into it.  Tired from late game watching. Loving every minute.

Let's break it down, shall we?

The Fans.

Tucked safely behind some plexiglass they are free to cheer, chant, taunt and heckle and at the end of it all, even throw things on the ice.  If you are a lucky one with front row seats you are in some prime real estate.  Players slamming each other into this glass.  Not only slammed but slammed and then held there by the opposing player for what could be minutes... leaving you, the fan, the perfect opportunity to show this poor player just how much you hate his team by banging on the glass like a wild man screaming anything and everything you wish.  Go ahead, tell him his momma is ugly, IT'S ALLOWED!!  Where else are you going to find this player/fan bonding time.  Player there, face all smashed up against a see through wall inches from fans hand banging players smashed up cheek.  It is fabulous.  And then, my friends, if your team won?  Throw some rats or squid on the ice.  Go ahead, IT'S ALLOWED!!

The Players.

When the Playoffs start, there is a tradition of not shaving while your team is still in the running for the cup.  So the deeper into the playoffs we are, the longer and bushier the beards get, leaving the game a cluster of beards and sticks flying all over the ice at an amazing pace.  Upon closer look of these huge bearded men, you will find war scars, broken noses and missing teeth.

It is fascinating looking at these players when the camera manages to get a close up shot of them.  Missing teeth seem to be badges of honor.  Knock a tooth out? Oh no big deal.  Replace it?  What the heck for?! It's not like it will stay there.  They wear helmets with guards that go no further than the bridge of their nose, if one at all.   They don't care.  Just let them play.

Until there is a fight that is.  Now this is not like some other sports, where you get tripped and then wail around on the ground pretending to be hurt waiting for a foul to be called.  Not these guys.  They get tripped and pushed and slapped with sticks and just keep skating along.  They are like a bunch of kids out there.   During the face off,  if you watch the guys not in the play, they are back there bumping each other and whapping each other with their sticks.  Whap. Whap. Whap.  It seriously cracks us up. But then one will say or do just the right thing and WHAM!  the gloves come off.  Punches are thrown.  And thrown. And thrown.  and guess what?  IT'S ALLOWED!!  The ref during this time?  Watching.  Moving helmets out of the way so they don't trip on them.  You know, making it a safe area to fight in. They let it go for a couple minutes and then break it up.  You know, no big deal.

The Game.

Is fast moving.  The puck, impossible to keep track of.  The refs, wildly jumping out of the players way.  The announcers, somehow managing to follow the puck and know what player has it all while calling a very exciting game.  A good game announcer makes us anxious.  He builds up the play so fast and with such enthusiasm and then calls the goal with such excitement that we can help but get all caught up in the moment.  A goal is celebrated with such fanfare!  Sirens cheering lights and sticks all go up at once.  If you are the home team that is.  Not so much for the away team.  Sore a goal on their ice and not a single thing happens.  Nothing.  No indication that a tiny puck just managed to squeeze its way past a huge man doing the splits.  It's as if to say "we will give you the point, but this house? we do not recognize this goal in any way."

And we love it.

Conversations.

For half of the game, hubbs and I sit there in bewilderment.  When we do manage to get some words out it goes a bit like this:

"Was that a goal??" "I have no idea I can't follow this puck!!"
"OMG HE IS BLEEDING FROM HIS EYES"
"If I were a hockey player I would be wearing a full face mask." "I know, these guys are NUTS!"
"I have GOT to start playing hockey!" "No love, you don't"
"OHHHH, did you see that hit?"
"Seriously.  He is missing all his front teeth."
"How does that big guy bend like that?"
"So is there some sort of timeline for how long to let a fight last?" "I have no idea, they just let them at it!"
"This is FANTASTIC!"

And it really is.  Just last weekend the announcer summed it up best.

"You get a ring that is too big to wear and a trophy you can't keep, but don't tell anyone it isn't great."
        - Mike Emrick

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Now I get that some of you are here just to see my behbeh's...  So I leave you with Max.  Who got a toy in his Happy Meal and well, he loves it.