Just a quick side note before I get down to the topic on my mind. My office chatters constantly about things that are going on in the world or stuff they heard on the news. They talk about TV shows and cooking and anything else that springs to mind. Today, this was their topic of conversation. Now, I can remember having fights with my parents about not being allowed to do something that I wanted to do, but I think with all the recent happenings in the world new parents should get a checklist. So, when their teenager starts the same argument that I did (you don't love me, you don't want me to have any fun, etc.) they can refer to the checklist. "Did I ever put you in a washing machine and turn it on?" No. "Did I ever try to drown you in the Snake River?" No. Then get back in the house and finish your chores.
Now on to today's, or rather, last night's musings. My parents weren't big sports fans. My father watches racing of all sorts, but for as long as I can remember his version of watching the race included turning the race on, sitting back in the recliner, watching 10-20 laps, falling asleep, and waking up with 10-20 laps to go. So, I didn't grow up pledging allegiance to any one sport or sport's team for that matter. Don't misunderstand me, as someone who grew up in the shadow of Pittsburgh I can remember the World Series in 1979 and the Superbowl in 1980 and the whole "We Are Family"/"City of Champions" deal. However, we didn't watch games on TV or even in person. I got tickets to a Pirates game in the 6th grade for straight A's in some program that they had. My dad and I went. I had to that point never been that bored. In the 5th inning my father got upset when I produced a book and started to read. So, I sold the rest of the Straight A tickets I got. As I got a little older I began to realize that I could do some things that my Father couldn't do. What I didn't realize is that there were thousands of things my Dad could do that I couldn't. And he didn't give an inch which is something I still respect.
I had never seen either of my parents play chess. So, when I learned how to play chess I felt pretty special. I came home bragging to my parents and my dad offered to play a game with me. He played so efficiently and beat me so effectively for about 10 straight games that I thought I had become retarded. Another time, I bought a box of random stuff at a yard sale that my parent's friends were having. Mixed in among the sparklers and marbles was a pair of wooden sticks. So, I asked my Dad what they were. "Those are chopsticks. I used to eat with those all the time when we were stationed in Hong Kong." Now I couldn't imagine anyone being able to eat with a pair of sticks thinner than a pencil. So to prove something either to myself or my dad, I began to practice. Now, I eat quite well with a pair of chopsticks and won't eat chinese food without them. When I found out my dad was a good bowler, I joined a saturday league. It was like a competition for me in some way.
Where is all this leading? Ice Skating. When I was about 12 or 13 I found out my Father was a pretty good ice skater. According to my Aunt and Uncles (his sister and brothers) out of the 7 of them, he was the best. I didn't have the opportunity to test my skating ability until this past winter and let me tell you, there's not a skater gene that gets passed down. I couldn't skate worth crap, although after three tries I could make it around the rink without falling. But enough of my lack of athletic ability, back to the story at hand. So, when I couldn't test my skating ability I began to really respect the people who had. Namely hockey players and figure skaters. Now the two don't go hand in hand and other than the fact that both use ice they have little in common. However, I began to become absorbed by both. In 1988 I was glued to the skate wars of Brian Orser and Brian Boitano in the Olympics. And, when the 1990-91 hockey season rolled around the Penguins had my attention full throttle as they made their way into the playoffs, past the first round...second round...third round and into the Stanley Cup Playoffs, which is where the story comes full circle. I watched all 6 games in the finals that year. And, in the beginning of game six they interviewed a small child as part of their fan bit. "What do you think the score is going to be?" "8-0 Pittsburgh" Most amazing prediction I've ever seen. Last night, with the exception of the interview part, ESPN Classic was running game by game highlights of the Stanley Cup Finals from the 1990-91 season. Watching those clips brought back such a flood of emotion. I could remember my excitement building with each goal in game 6. Since my parents weren't big sports fans, they had gone to bed. I was alone in the living room (back then it was the only room in the house that had a tv) trying to quietly watch the game. When your team goes up as quickly as Pittsburgh did, it's very hard to contain that. So, I ended up running laps around the outside of my house to calm myself down. All in all I think I did about 20 laps around the house that night. 8 for the goals and lots in between periods just to burn off the nervous excitement. And, watching those goal highlights again last night, I felt the same nervous energy building back up. Which is what led to my disappointment. The highlights finished at 8:00 and I quickly flipped over to watch game 1 of the Stanley Cup finals.
Now, I know that since Pittsburgh isn't playing that the level of excitement or energy wasn't going to come anywhere close to what it had been in 1991, but Stanley Cup hockey is always exciting regardless of who is actually in the game. At least that's what I thought til last night. Let me just state for the record. I hate the neutral zone trap playing style of the New Jersey Devils more than I hate the ESPN announcers and camera angles for the games. Watching Minnesota and Anaheim play to a 0-0 regulation tie and Anaheim win in overtime sounds boring. It wasn't. I was on the proverbial edge of my seat for that entire game. If I hadn't had other things to occupy my time, I probably would have fallen asleep during last night's game. I know, a long drawn out story to essentially say...I hate New Jersey and their style of hockey. But I do. I hate it. It gives hockey a bad image. New Jersey couldn't even sell out their arena for the first couple rounds of the playoffs. The most exciting story to come out of New Jersey has been the meltdown of Martin Brodeur's marriage. Although the two Niedermayer brothers make for an interesting side bar. But hell, even their mother is rooting for Anaheim.