Hockey Night in Georgia

Hockey's a beautiful game. I've been a fan for more than 40 years and have attended games in St. Louis, Chicago, Cleveland, Detroit, San Diego, and DC. Many games. Professional games with professional players. College games too. I watch it on TV -- pro, college or international. I watched the game a couple of weeks ago when the world record hockey crowd (113,411 people in Michigan Stadium) saw the UM Wolverines trounce the Michigan State Spartans. I'll see the annual "Winter Classic" tomorrow; that's the outdoor NHL game played every year on New Years Day. And there's the IIHF under-20 world championship going on this week as team USA goes against teams from other countries. I'm recording those games to watch when I can. So you get my drift, eh? I love hockey when it's done right.

They have something similar to hockey in Atlanta, as I discovered last night. There are big guys with sticks pushing a little black rubber thing around an ice surface that looks like a hockey rink. But there are fire-breathing birds above the scoreboard that shoot out flames when a goal is scored, and the announcer sounds like Vince McMahon of pro-wrestling fame: "and now ... here they are ... 

YOUR ... ATLANTA ... THRASHERS!!!

I thought a thrasher was a piece of farm machinery. Turns out it's also a bird, and in Atlanta it's a mascot:

After "Thrash" helps introduce the teams the game starts, but a couple of times each period they stop for the "Blue Crew" to clean off the ice. Nowhere else do they do this; cleaning the ice is for the Zamboni machine between periods. But these scantily clad "ice Barbies," as I dubbed them, come out and circle around with snow shovels during what I assume are TV timeouts. The players loll around their respective benches squirting Gatorade into their mouths and gawking while the Barbies scoop shavings into trash buckets then disappear. Nobody but me seems to find this strange. "It's the South," says my brother-in-law. "What do they know about hockey?"

Ice Barbie 

During the intermissions (which aren't the customary 15 minutes each but a bizarre 17 minutes, presumably to work in a few more TV commercials) they do goofy stuff like having kids dressed as Peter Puck run around the rink and leap over obstacles as "Thrash" chases them and knocks them down. It's really charming. 

Peter Puck

As if that weren't enough, during the first intermission last night the Blue Crew rolled a rubber mat onto the ice and out marched a bride and groom, their wedding party, and a minister, and they proceeded to conduct a marriage ceremony right then and there. Instead of riding off in a limousine when it was over, they got to ride around the rink on the Zamboni machine and wave to the crowd, none of whom seemed to be paying the least bit of attention to them.

Fortunately, the fans in my section of the arena didn't yell during the wedding, but they had some creative cheers when play was underway. The loudest devotee was a big round bald guy with a telescoping vuvuzela (my nephews and I want one now, by the way) who would blow his horn then chant "Ref you suck! Ref you suck!" over and over. Then he'd pause and shout, "Okay, second verse: Ref you suck! Ref you suck!" and on and on. This brought a chuckle and the participation of a few co-conspirators the first couple of times he did it, but by the 10th or 11th time it got a little old, especially since it was punctuated by the cow bells that various folks had brought with them. Another cheer, also with bell accompaniment, was the favorite of my nephews John and Hayden: "I'm blind / I'm deaf / I wanna be a ref!" This too lost its appeal after a dozen or more repetitions, however.

The fans' emotion notwithstanding , both teams seemed uninspired last night. Maybe they'd been out too late the night before or were tired from their away-games on Tuesday. For whatever the reason, they bumbled to a 2-2 tie, a scoreless overtime, and a Thrashers win in a shootout. That's always fun.

There are no great philosophical learnings to be had here, just the realization that this is the South. Hockey doesn't really belong. But it's still fun.

___

On a different note: HAPPY NEW YEAR everyone!  I'll "chat" with you next year.

The Real Story of the Three Wise Guys

. . .

You see, they weren't really kings. They were tourists -- a Hindu holy man, a rabbi, and a lawyer. When they got to Bethlehem (the day before Jesus was born) there was one room left in the inn, but it had just one double bed; so the Hindu volunteered to sleep in the stable and he went out there and everyone else went to bed. Five minutes later there was a knock on the door and the Hindu man said, "There's a cow in the stable and cows are holy and I can't sleep out there with a cow."

So the rabbi said, "Okay, I'll sleep in the stable." And he went out and the others went to bed. Five minutes later there was a knock on the door and the rabbi said, "There's a pig in the stable and pigs are unclean and I can't sleep out there with a pig."

So the lawyer said, "Oh for Moses' sake [remember, Christ hadn't been born yet], I'll sleep in the stable; let's all get some rest!" And he went out and the others went to bed. Five minutes later there was a knock on the door ...

... and it was the cow and the pig.

Happy Holidays!

I was thinking about how to wish everyone happy holidays when I came across this gem from the A Word A Day newsletter (www.wordsmith.org).

The subject word was periphrasis (a roundabout way of saying something using more words than necessary), and the example is from a British TV series. One of the characters is speaking to a government minister:

Sir Humphrey: "I wonder if I might crave your momentary indulgence in order to discharge a by-no-means disagreeable obligation which has, over the years, become more or less established practice within government circles as we approach the terminal period of the calendar year, of course, not financial. In fact, not to put too fine a point on it, Week Fifty-One, and submit to you, with all appropriate deference, for your consideration at a convenient juncture, a sincere and sanguine expectation -- indeed confidence, indeed one might go so far as to say hope -- that the aforementioned period may be, at the end of the day, when all relevant factors have been taken into consideration, susceptible to being deemed to be such as to merit a final verdict of having been by no means unsatisfactory in its overall outcome and, in the final analysis, to give grounds for being judged, on mature reflection, to have been conducive to generating a degree of gratification which will be seen in retrospect to have been significantly higher than the general average."

Jim Hacker: "Are you trying to say 'Happy Christmas,' Humphrey?"

Sir Humphrey: "Yes, Minister."

And the same from me to you!