Some Fans Go To Far

The Girlfriend is bat shit crazy over Predator Jason Arnott. Saturday night, she had a couple of margaritas and started telling my sister all about him. I told her she was star struck and if she ever met him, she probably wouldn't even be able to get out anything intelligible. She gave me the ever witty come back "UH HUH!" So I asked her, "Well, then what would you say?"

She replied "First I would ask him how he spent his day with the Stanley Cup when the Devils won it."

I retorted "That's it?"

She smirked and said "Then I would ask him if he knew what a donkey punch was."

I fear she has moved into stalker mode.

You Said It Brother

Forsberg scores the winning goal to beat the Redwings in overtime. I gave my sister tickets for Christmas. Her entire brood was there (my brother-in-law, two nephews and niece). Overheard at the game?

Preds fan "Redwings suck!!!"

8 year old nephew "You said it brother!!"

Rock on Preds.

The Forsberg Flop

A week after the Forsberg trade, I give it a grade of C. So far the only positive result has been a huge increase in local interest. Tickets sales have gone up and the media seems to have been taking a closer look at the Preds. On the negative side, Forsberg hasn't had a single assist or goal. I know he isn't a pure shooter and his magic is supposed to be the result of his play making and creating scoring chances. His passes have been off of the mark and he often whiffs on the puck when it's passed to him. I know it takes time to develop chemistry and become used to the different game play that the Predators have compared to the Flyers, but so far it's been unimpressive. Last night, the Preds scored five goals, led Montreal by two goals twice and they managed to choke in the waning seconds of regulation, allowing too much traffic in front of their net. Sudden death overtime was scoreless, resulting in a shootout, which is always exciting. After the Preds and Habs sent out their first three, it was a tie game, one all. Saku Koivu managed a goal for the Habs and the Preds sent out Forsberg to tie it up and be a hero. He took the puck at the blue stripe, skated toward Montreal's goal, attempted a deke, and promptly fell down, ending the game in a Pred's loss. Surely things will get better. I can only hope Forsberg lives up to one tenth of the hype. We still have a lot of hockey left to play.

The Forsberg Era

Without putting a blade on the ice, Peter Forsberg may have saved Nashville as a hockey town. I'm fairly new to hockey, I've only been a fan of the Preds for two years and before that I had attended a handful of Memphis Riverkings games. I moved to Nashville, in part, because I've just decided that hockey is so damn much fun to watch. The players are much more accessible than any other sport (almost everybody has a story about how they ran into such and such player and they were very nice) and I'm starting to think they are much more athletic than football and basketball (in my mind, baseball is almost a hand-eye coordination sport). So imagine my disappointment when I move to Smashville and even though the Predators are neck and neck for the league lead and have a great chance of winning their division, there is almost zero hockey talk in this town and in fact, what talk there is mostly covers the fact that the Predators don't draw fans and the franchise may move. The local newspaper puts their hockey coverage on the third page of the sports section, television coverage is spotty at best, and the radio routinely bumps Predators games to broadcast Vanderbilt basketball.

All of that has changed. Two days ago, Nashville traded a role player, a minor league player and two draft picks for hockey great Peter Forsberg. To illustrate the difference it has made in this town, The Girlfriend and I went out to a local Mexican restaurant last night. We were sitting at the bar eating enchiladas and watching the Blues beat the Preds on the television. The two latino bartenders waiting on us began having a very excited discussion in Spanish. My understanding of the language is spotty ("dos cervezas por favor" is the best I can do) but I repeatedly heard "Peter Forsberg."

Many analysts are now picking Nashville as the favorite to win The Cup. I don't know if that is true or not. It remains to be seen if Forsberg can stay injury free long enough to make a difference, but the excitement that this trade has generated in Smashville makes the trade a winner for this town. The next couple of games have sold out, Nashville is all over the hockey news and now maybe some of the teams up North will take us more seriously. My only question is "When can I get my Nashville Predators jersey with Forsberg on the back?"

Valentine's Day As I See It

The Girlfriend and I went to the hockey game last night. I will let her tell you about her experience. Myself? A fantastic night! The Predators really handed it to the Sharks, winning 5-0. They skated hard and hit hard and kept San Jose out of our zone. I hope they can continue to play that way. The Girlfriend got me a gym bag for my new/used skates along with a towel to wipe them down. Perfect. I also got some peanut M&M's and some gym shorts as well as a new Pred's shirt. She did great. I so heart her.

I played around with the camera a bit, obviously The Girlfriend didn't want me taking pictures of her.


So, I shot a little movie of what the game looked like from our seats.

After we got home, I got a little game action myself. Just a little bit.

Slap My Ass And Call Me Alice

After ice skating lessons today, I asked The Girlfriend if we could go to "The Hockey Stop" on the way home. I was tired of the rental skates killing my feet and felt it was time to buy some skates. She was less than enthused about going, but I figured it was just because it was a guy thing and she wasn't really interested.

We get to the shop and the lady helping me found a new pair of skates to try. They were beginners (meaning CHEAP) skates and she told me I would have to break them in for them to feel comfortable. She then asked if I would be interested in some used skates. (Oh, I forgot to mention that she measured my feet. The left foot is significantly shorter than the right foot.) I said sure and she found a pair of mid level quality skates that felt a lot better on my feet. She told me that they would last just as long as the new ones, the basic difference being that they were a higher quality and already broken in (I know, dangling preposition, so shoot me, my grammar sucks.). Bonus they were about $50 cheaper. Since I don't know how long I will be interested in ice skating, I thought cheaper was better. The Girlfriend looked non committal and her only comment was "Don't you want to check with 'Play It Again Sports'? I liked the skates, so I said no and then had the lady get me some socks and some kinda skate guard thingys to go with them. This would be what my new/used skates look like.

So, happy with my new purchase, I skip to the car, girlfriend in tow. That was when I noticed her lower lip sticking out. Great, what have I done now. We get to the car and it hits me. "Uh, you weren't planning on getting me skates for Balentime's Day were you." Her lower lip came out so far, I thought she was going to trip over it. The rest of the conversation went like this.

"I'm so sorry baby, the thought was soooooo sweet. Do you want me to take them back? Why didn't you stop me from buying these skates."

She replied, "Well, I kept hinting! You never buy anything! I had it all set up, they were gonna mold a brand new pair of skates to your feet and everything." By this time, she could have pulled her lip over her head and worn it like a cap.

"How did you hint? When?"

"Well, I told you I didn't really want to go to The Hockey Stop and I asked you if you wanted to check at Play It Again Sports. You should have known!"

"Uh, why didn't you just say 'I don't want to go?' Sheesh."

So now, I've definitely demonstrated that I don't take hints well. I think she is ok now and hopefully I haven't completely ruined Balentime's Day. She is now leaving to go shopping and maybe the pouting will end.

Help me. Was I wrong? Should I have known? I can be so clueless sometimes.

The Great Nacho controversy Of '07

If you read The Girlfriend's blog (and I know that most of you do, since 99% of my visitors come from her blog), you already know that we went to the hockey game last night and watched the Predators shellac the Ducks, 3-0. They maintain their lead over the rest of the NHL and apparently have a good shot at taking home the President's Cup (given to the NHL team with the best season record).

What she didn't tell you about was the second most entertaining thing to happen that night. There were a couple of men sitting in front of us with their young sons, which were probably about 8 and 10 years old. Of course, the kids were just as interested in the cotton candy, foam fingers and free baseball caps as they were the game. After the second period, one of the men came back with a load of goodies, beer, pretzels and a big container of nachos. The younger kid took the nachos, put them in his lap and turned to the side, protecting is bounty from any poachers. Naturally, the older boy then decided he wanted to taste some fried corn chips with melted imitation processed cheese food on them. One man told the young grasshopper to share, but feeling what I can only assume was a sense of entitlement, the younger child refused, stating rather emphatically "NO!" He then crouched over his manna, protecting it like a ravenous wolf would a bone. Thus began The Great Nacho Controversy Of '07." The boy's father took the nachos away from him, gave them to the older child. Wisely, the new recipient of the delectable pseudo Mexican delicacy didn't say a word and just dug into his new found repast. The entertainment kicked in when the loser in the contest of wills began his pout show. I don't have kids, and his is probably why. I remember being little and thinking "I will show them, if I don't get my way, I will act like they are the worst parents ever and I have been abused from birth." Now that I'm adult, I find this behavior very amusing. In the entire history of parents and kids, have these tactics ever worked? The injured party leaned on the rail in front of him, sobbed crocodile tears and hid his eyes from all spectators only peaking out to make sure his was drawing the necessary attention to his plight. Rather than take pity on the poor child, the rest of us drew great delight from his predicament. To his credit, the Dad ignored the boy's theatrics (which were Oscar worthy if I may say so) and watched the rest of the game and the older child proceeded to devour every last nacho. Call me twisted, but I considered the whole thing a bonus. A hockey game AND a free show. Like I said, it's no wonder I have no spawn.

Because Flat Is Bugging Me To Post

Mom used to work for FedEx back in the early eighties. This was long before airline terrorism was an issue, and FedEx used to let their employees "jump seat" on their planes. Mom would go to Florida to see Grandma every once and a while or to St. Louis to visit her sister. I never thought of it as anything special. I don't recall the routine at the house changing much just because Dad was in charge. Pop must have felt differently.

I was about twelve or thirteen I guess and Mom had decided to bounce out for the weekend to catch up with her brother in Dallas. She had left in the early afternoon and we were all sitting in the den. Our den was very small and on the other side of one wall was the living room. This was back when they built houses with company in mind. Both rooms were pretty small with barely enough room for a couch and table in each. My brother, my sister, and I were all sitting on the couch watching TV when my dad walked into the room. He looked pissed, which wasn't unusual, he always looked pissed (he wasn't, he just looked that way). He told the three of us to get off of the couch and then told me to help him move it. This was all pretty new, since he didn't do much after a twelve hour day of work except eat, drink a beer and fall asleep in his lazy-boy. We all felt that something was afoot. He sent my brother out to the shed for a couple of hammers. My interest was definitely piqued. When brother returned, Dad took a hammer from him, reached way back like a major league pitcher getting ready to throw a split fingered fastball and punched a basketball sized hole in the wall!!!!! We all looked at each other in amazement and then looked back at Dad. He raised and eyebrow and said "What are y'all waiting for? An invitation? Help me rip down this wall." OMG! Kids and demolition are a definite match. We had the sheet rock ripped off of the wall and out on the curb in about an hour. That's when the call from the lazy-boy over took Dad's will. We put all of the furniture back like nothing had ever happened and he sacked out in his sleeping chair.

Three days later, we hear Mom pull up in the driveway. My siblings and I were brimming with excitement. This would be better than watching Hee-Haw on Saturday that's for sure! Mom walks in the door to find a clean house, three smiling kids lined up on the couch and where a wall used to be? Nothing but two by four studs with electrical wire hanging between them. The only thing I remember Mom saying is "I will never leave town again."

Turns out, the wall in question was a load bearing wall. Dad talked a neighbor, who was a carpenter, into helping him figure out how to remove the rest of the frame. It took three months. Then, since the carpet in the living room didn't match the carpet in the den, we went another six months with two toned carpet in our new giant family room. In the end, it was a definite improvement for the little house, but Mom, true to her word, never left us alone with Dad again.