The Race is On

You know hockey is a lot like the Grateful Dead, either you get it or you don't. And like the Grateful Dead, hockey has a core following of fans that love the sport in a cultish way. I am one of those fans. I buy the hockey package from my sucky ass cable provider every year, and I watch almost every Penguins game. I go to see them when they are in DC, and the arena is always jammed with other Pittsburgh fans. There are very few sporting events better than seeing hockey in person, and if you've been to a game, then you know what I mean.

I don't need hockey to be talked about on SportsCenter, Around the Horn or PTI, and good thing, because ESPN has banished it like a bitter divorcee after the NHL signed a TV contract with VS. ESPN keeps telling me, in no uncertain words, that hockey is dead in the US, but then why are the arenas always packed with thousands of fans? Why do the Penguins always sell out? Why did the Grateful Dead always sell out? Because there are people in this country who go against the grain and refuse to drink the Kool-Aid that the national media is dispensing. If you want to spend all of your air time promoting the NBA, go for it, but watching seven foot stoners trade baskets for 150 minutes just doesn't do anything for me.

The Conference Finals start tonight, and I am as excited as a dread-locked suburban kid in '72 who just got a "miracle ticket" in the parking lot to see Jerry and the boys. I'll admit that this year is a little sweeter, because Sidney, Geno and the gang are involved, but every year I look forward to watching the playoffs. Plus, it helps bridge the gap between the Super Bowl and training camp.

The intensity of the games, the hitting, the speed, the nail-biting when your team is short-handed and the anticipation when they are on the power play is immeasurable. I live and die with every goal, and when the Pens score I channel Mike Lange, and his trademark sayings just spew out of me; "Book 'em Dano", "Get in the fast lane Grandma the bingo game is ready to roll", "Buy Sam a drink and get his dog one too", "Call Arnold slick from Turtle Crick" and my wife's personal favorite "Get that dog off my lawn". When the Pens close out a series I rip off my jersey and run around the house screaming like a little girl who just got her first Barbie.

Bud Light presents Real Men of Genius.
Today we salute you Mr. Over Enthusiastic TV Sports Watcher. You're not even at the game and yet you still wear your jersey and scream at the refs with wild abandon. You protest every call, and mock the opposing players with long strings of curse words that would make Eddie Murphy blush. You have the arena songs queued up on your iPod to play after goals. Even when you have guests over, you carry on like a toddler who didn't get their way, embarassing your family and yourself. So crack open an ice cold Bud Light because it's all worth it when your team achieves the ultimate goal, and you helped get them there with your game day rituals, Mr. Over Enthusiastic TV Sports Watcher. Bud Light Beer, Anheuser Busch, St. Louis, Missouri.

Screw Bud Light, it's time to pop open a Yuengling, fire up the HD, turn up the volume and spend every night for the next few weeks in hockey heaven. Badger Bob you couldn't have been more right when you said "It's a great day for hockey!"