There are very few things I hate more than hockey.
I'm not much for any kind of sporting event, but hockey really leaves me cold.
Oh sure, that's not very Canadian of me, but I'd rather watch debate on tax reform in the House of Commons than a hockey game.
In fact I couldn't watch a game if Springsteen, Idris Elba, Craig Ferguson and L.L. Cool J strapped on skates and whipped out their sticks.
Even my scientist, egghead sister is a huge fan of the sport. Obsessively so. Mostly in the Junior League (if that's what you call it) and that serves only to make me dig in my heels more, as every conversation drifts to stats and personal information about jocks in whom I have absolutely no interest.
I find it really hard see the excitement in a game that promotes such violence and incites riots, whether we win or lose, and one in which the main goal (pun intended) is to get a rubber disc in a fishing net with a bent stick.
It incites me to no end to know that hockey, and sports in general, are given so much money, while funding is being cut for the arts in schools and government programs.
This week, hockey talk has filled every line up at grocery stores and coffee shops, in anticipation of the big Gold medal Olympic game between long time rivals, Canada and the U.S.
It was not hard to tell when the game was over tonight, and that Canada had won.
Even now, I can hear them, in the streets, whooping like it's New Years Eve or a large small-town wedding. Car horns blaring, groups and gaggles of people screaming nonsensical wooooohooooo's.
All over Facebook, people are posting status updates that say lame things like "we live in the best country in the world"
Why? Because our toothless mullets beat another country's toothless mullets on a frozen surface? Woo fucking hoo.
Is anybody posting "we live in the best country in the world because we have a better health care system than most" or "Canada rocks because we discovered insulin or life saving procedures and vaccines"?
That being said, I do like the way the country comes together, united around tee vee's in living rooms, bars and pizza shops, to cheer on their own. Too bad it wasn't to talk about hospital wait times, arts funding, or helping the homeless.
I admit, hockey and I have been in a fight for a long time.
Many years ago, I was a hockey widow, living with a man who played nets for a local scrub team. Dirty, stinky, sweaty, smelly gear sat by the washing machine for days, festering and fermenting until someone aired it out. For a long time it was me, but then I just gave up.
Every Saturday night, the Hockey Night in Canada theme played in our house, rendering me invisible. A certain New Years Eve was preempted when the game went into over-time and I sat, in my expensive sequined party dress and new hairdo, waiting to go out. In the end, I took a bottle of champagne over to drink with my elderly neighbors.
Oh sure, I tried to make it sexy.
Once I even strapped on his goalie pads and wearing nothing but those and his hockey shirt I walked seductively into the room. He didn't notice until the commercial, and that was only because he asked me to bring him another beer. Initiating sex during a game was out of the question, as it was too distracting. It's really hard to stay in the mood when you're sucking on someone's face and he's trying to keep his eyes on the face off, or when the only moaning and groaning he's making is because someone missed the net.
Yeah that's dead sexy.
The only thing worse than dating a guy who plays hockey, is dating a guy who's kid plays hockey. You expect you'll never come first as far as the kid is concerned, but in this case, you are on the benches, (to use a dreaded hockey reference) taking a back seat to the kid, his schedule and the game. Then it's always Hockey Night In Canada. Early practice makes sleep overs impossible, and evening games rule out any thoughts of dinner plans.
So, yeah, where hockey is concerned, I suppose I'm a bit bitter.
I guess hockey and I will never be friends.
With that in mind, while the rest of the country is screaming in the streets, tossing beer on one another, and taking credit for winning something they had absolutely nothing to do with, I will be thinking about how I'd like to beat them all with a hockey stick, and then put it up their collective arses.
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