Cold On A Mission, So Fall Them Back, Let 'Em Know, That You're Too Much, And This Is A Beat, Uh, You Can't Touch

--"U Can't Touch This", MC Hammer

Baseball hasn't always been the only sport I watched live or kept up with religiously. Over the years I've experimented with being both a basketball and football fan as well. While those never took to any sizable degree, there was a long stretch back in the mid 90's to the early part of the new century where I kept up with the National Hockey League. Like baseball, I liked the fact that it didn't involve someone scoring and, unlike football, I liked the fact that they actually played more than a single game a week. If I wanted to my friends and I could go down to Anaheim to catch a Ducks game (I never cared much for the Kings at all).

I remember at the time my favorite team was the Vancouver Canucks and my favorite player was Pavel Bure, otherwise known as The Russian Rocket. He literally was the fastest man on skates I'd ever seen, which led to him being up there season after season in the goals scored category. And I remember thinking there's something pure about the way a hockey game is played. There weren't the thousand interruptions that plague a basketball game and, unlike even my beloved baseball, a hockey player really had to know how to go from offense to defense in the blink of an eye. Also, people may discount the fighting aspect of the sport, but there is something instinctual about protecting one's teammate that every sport carries with it in some way; hockey's just more upfront with this aspect than most sports are. Whether it's the eye-for-an-eye beanball tactics of pitchers in baseball or the benches clearing moments in almost every sport, rallying to arms for your team is a badge that hockey players happen to display more proudly than most athletes.

And I wasn't the only one who thought this. The other big hockey nut with whom I used to attend games with, Jennifer, used to tell me the fights were the best parts. Not because she enjoyed the fighting, per se, she used to say, but because they were so spontaneous and yet predictable at the same time. You didn't always know from the outset that a fight would break out, but if there was one to break out you definitely could tell which two would be doing the fighting. You could see the jawing, the checks that were applied just a little too diligently. After awhile, it became second nature to see the two individuals who would eventually come to blows. By then it wasn't a matter of if a fight would begin; it was only a matter of when.

We used to argue over and over of who the best fighter out there was. That became a matter of contention just as much who the best defenseman was or who the best scorer was. It was a matter of pride to declare your affiliation for a particular enforcer because it labeled you as a particular type of fan. Did you love the goons, the guys sent out to send a message preemptively? Or were you more in favor of the true enforcer, the guys who got sent out only after the other team had shown their intentions of hurting one's own star player? The reason why the players fought as often as they did was of tantamount importance as to how they came out in their fights in the end. It wasn't enough for a player to be known as the best fighter; the validation came as much as with their code of ethics as their prowess with the fist and elbow.

Everything you do has to mean something, Jennifer used to say while we were at those games.

----

It's telling that after Jennifer died hockey just lost all flavor for me. I mean--I haven't been to an honest-to-gods professional hockey game since 2002, and that was like four months before I found out Jennifer was even sick. Sure, the strike interrupted some of the fervor I once held for hockey. If there's one thing I can't stand it's when a sport denies its fans a full season, regardless if the blame falls on either management or players. But for the most part I stopped going because there really isn't anybody I can go with who shares the same passion for the sport that Jennifer and I once had. When I imagine my small circle of friends as it stands now, there's not a single one of them that I can think of who could elicit the same types of conversations and discussions that she and I once shared. It just doesn't mean enough to other people, I guess. That, in turn, makes it mean that much less to me.

If I want to go to a game with somebody I'll always have baseball. I've been to many games where the conversations were less than stellar, but where the game was enough to keep me entertained. When I think of going to a hockey game, I guess I expect something different in terms of an experience. Like Jennifer used to say, going to a hockey game has to mean something; I expect something much more than merely being entertained.

You could say she ruined hockey for me forever. Yet I see things differently. I hold hockey as something almost sacred now, it will forever be associated with perhaps the wisest person I've ever had the pleasure to know. And the fact that silly, little game was one of the common grounds we could enjoy together places hockey as one of the best pursuits that I no longer pursue. Simply because it doesn't mean as much to me these days doesn't mean I don't hold it in high regard still.

It will always mean something to me even if I never go to another game, just like she'll always mean something to me even though it's been quite awhile since I saw her last.

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers