High Sticking

Ah yes, NOW I remember why I like hockey. It is a game that appeals to the low- boredom- threshold being like myself.
As soon as we got in I remembered. The darkness, the loud rock music. The stands filling up, but inside. We had such a sweet deal. We were in a private box. We could go and sit out right over the ice or we could sit as though at a bar and watch. We had food served to us in the intermission, puds in the second one, and we had our own loo. Such luxury. If you were a bloke, there was beer available. If you weren't - well then you could drink lemonade, or beer if that was your inclination. Ok, that wasn't so luxurious, but the rest was great.

Suddenly the lights go on and all the players from both teams are out like flies, warming up, making figures of eight around the ice. The ice doesn't look like ice until ice spray comes off the blade of someone's skate.
Todd Bertuzzi comes out and the crowd cheer him extra hard. Even I feel like cheering Todd Bertuzzi, he represents what I like about hockey. The violence. Last year Betuzzi got himself into a bit of a kerfuffle. He took out another player who had previously assualted a teammate. He was hounded all year by lawyers. Now he's back but he's been muzzled, and that in my opinion was the problem with the whole game. The Canucks were simply not aggressive enough. That's the place for aggression and violence, given that both are human traits. On the pitch, on the rink, not in the stands, not on the street, not in the home, the school, the workplace. No, the big screen and the sports field. Tick.

We stood for both nations' anthems. The stadium wasn't quiet for the US one, but people joined in for 'Oh Canada'. Good thing too, the woman who was singing it had quite an acidic voice. I wondered if they all understood what they were singing, but that's another blog.

A hockey game is like live theatre. The lighting, the punctuation of plays with particular music. The thumping intro to 'we will, we will rock you' while players ready to fight for the puck. The constant refreshing of players on the ice, perfectly choreographed.

The Canucks lost. I don't know the names of positions or tactics, but it seemed to me that the Dallas team - Dallas! A place that has no logical reason why it should play ice hockey - when they got the play to the Canucks' goal, then attacked aggressively until they scored, constantly harrying, whereas the Canucks would shoot from further away.

Before we left, I briefly discussed cricket with the Indian man whose box we had been invited to. I know nothing about cricket, but I know that England are playing India at the moment, and it was enough. Cricket is the ultimate low-boredom-threshold sport, it's about the sitting outside as the sun gently sets, drinking Pimms while men wearing whites hit the ball then run up and down the pitch, no violence at all and you can read your book while they play, no-one minds.

Egress was very civilised. On the street, nothing was torn down or destroyed. No-one was shouting, I felt quite safe leaving with the crowd. But I'd have welcomed a pub. A real, British pub where you could just go in and have a drink, no fuss, no server. It's one thing to not drink because you've chosen to be the driver, quite another to not have the choice.

I enjoyed watching the players on the ice. I realised that I don't engage with the actual game, but I do like the surreal aspect to it, the dance of it, the players swooping around the ice, the music, the occasional spat when players crash into each other and you think something's going to occur, but there are rules, thank goodness, it's all controlled. It's hypnotic, larger than life.
I wonder what it must be like to be able to skate.