Being back at school means one thing. It has become a lot more difficult to watch hockey. There are about forty people on my floor, and most of the time they can be found in the lounge where the TV is located. Being a poor student, I cannot afford cable in my room, so I have turned to the internet in order to watch games. Aside from the fact that the play seems to skip on occasion, it is a pretty good deal (and I don’t need to listen to the people on my floor playing Magic while my eyes are glued to the screen which is possibly the most annoying thing I could ever have to listen to while attempting to watch a game). Now, I can see all games instead of just the ones on CBC, TSN, or SportsNet. What’s even more interesting, is being able to watch these games on the American networks.
When the Winter Classic was on, so was a Leafs game. Due to the fact that there was so much hype, and that I was watching 24/7, AND had a new affinity for the Pittsburgh Penguins, AND a new loathing for the Washington Capitals, I thought I would turn it on.
It was off again after about two minutes.
My biggest problem was with the NBC sportscasters; well that and the fact that the camera angles were giving me a headache. It was as if they knew right off the bat that the majority of people who were going to be watching this game had no idea what was going on. This was perhaps their first time watching someone shoot a puck. Now, this makes me sound like a bit of a snob, and God knows I should not be one when I have only just started paying more attention to the sport, ANNND considering I have never actually even played on a regular sized rink; but as soon as they had to explain what the big capital “C” was on Crosby and Ovechkin’s jerseys I decided to go back to the Leafs game, (and they wound up kicking the shit out of Ottawa, so I was happy with my decision) I would have to watch the condensed version of the game on 24/7.
I never really understood what the big difference was between the United States and Canada when it came to hockey. I know that it isn’t as popular down there, and you can buy a decent ticket at many games for about a sixteenth of what you would pay at the ACC. This isn’t true in all cities in the states with a hockey team, but it seems to be the case in many of them.
After watching the San Jose game last night on a channel that was clearly local in California, I many not know all the differences, but I can probably name off a couple.
First, they are completely and obsessed with shots, and goals. Aren’t we all? This was taken to a new level last night. While you hear Joe Bowen constantly yell out “shot on net” during his commentary, he frequently talks about other aspects of play as well. These American guys on CSN California really only seemed fixated on goals, and goals alone. They stated that they had “grown accustom to low scoring games” recently. I don’t know about you, but six goals in a game seems like a decent number to me.
Second, they are complete and total pussies. When there was any kind of fighting at all, the CSN announcers would hum and haw to each other about how Ron Wilson and Brian Burke want a team that is “truculent.” They used this term more then once, and while at the time I did not know exactly what it meant, I knew it had something to do with the aggression that Toronto was showing. I looked it up this morning, and discovered that it means “fierce; cruel; and savagely brutal.” Savagely brutal? There was little to no fighting in the game last night, other then a couple shoving matches; and yes, the Leafs have been known to fight, and get other teams riled up, but I would never call their play “savagely brutal” (except for when they seem to lose horrendously on regular occasion). Also, the headlines about Colton Orr in the American online newspapers today, all seem very surprised that Orr was not going to face a suspension for his knee hit on Logan Couture; while the Canadian newspapers mostly just talked about Toronto’s usual mid season push toward the play offs. The only newspaper that even mentioned the hit by Orr was the Toronto Star, and it just talked about how Clowe wanted someone to beat the shit out of Orr for what he did to Couture.
Third, the intermissions were downright boring. All they talked about were the players personal lives, what they were going to be doing on their weekends off, the HBO series, and not much of it was relevant to what was going on out on the ice. A few stats were thrown in there, but most of them were completely irrelevant.
Fourth, the penalties. Toronto took many penalties in the game last night; and every time, they slowed down the replay to show exactly why Toronto was in fact getting a penalty. When the table were turned, and San Jose received one, the replay was not slowed down, and the commentators would once again hum and haw to themselves about how they “didn’t see what was wrong there.”
It was almost like listening to the commentators speak a completely different language. This is where the major difference lies in Canadian hockey, and hockey in the States. We seem to celebrate all aspects of the game; be it aggression, defense, goals, shots, speed, play making etc. The guys at CSN seemed to be very focused on only two aspects, speed and scoring. They constantly talked about how the Leafs “were coming with speed” and some nonsense about Kessel “using a lot of ice.” The only similarities that I could find between the Canadian sports cast and the American one, were that they both seemed to be impressed by Reimer, and by how many penalty minutes Colton Orr has been able to rack up.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
New Love: Hockey
It started off as slow. A little interest here, some research there. Now, it’s the only thing I can think about. I don’t know exactly what triggered this new found love for the sport of hockey, but now I almost feel as though it was always somewhere deep down inside.
When dating my ex-boyfriend I tried to suppress the feeling for the sport. I would watch out of the corner of my eye; attempting to keep them glued to whatever drama was on my computer screen, but then something would happen. Those boys in blue would start racking up the goals, or their hits would rattle the boards, and I would get drawn in. While I was never intrigued enough to really do any research into the game, I started to ask more questions. I soon found myself paying no attention to the show on I’d idly put on my computer; the lid slowly closing until I was immersed in the game.
Throughout our relationship, I would roll my eyes whenever he would turn the game on. Pretending to have no interest at all. Then I was suddenly playing Proline. It felt good to believe in something (even if Toronto did lose the majority of the time). I clung to a specific player, Ponikarovsky. We both had Ukrainian lineage, and considering that was the only thing I had in common with any of the players, he stuck. I bought his jersey and began attending games.
Being at a live hockey game is a great experience. While I have only ever seen the Leafs win once at the ACC (when Gustavsson got his first shut out in the NHL) the atmosphere is unlike anything else. Everyone in the place (other then those guys who sit in their suits on their Blackberrys the whole time, but even they must raise an eye or a fist once in a while. It seems impossible to completely ignore the sport when it’s right in front of you). The roar of the crowd, chanting GO LEAFS GO! Tentative at first, but once a puck hit the net of whatever opposing team was in the ACC at the time, cheers and people on their feet. Electricity flows through that place. I can’t even imagine what it must be like to be a player. When they lose, the feeling is different, but that electricity still lingers. Crowds already looking toward the next game, hoping that they are going to do better next time.
After my ex and I split, I still followed what was going on, but would only watch a game during commercials. (That Thursday night game slot, also happens to be when Grey’s Anatomy and Private Practice are on. I’m a girl, I can’t help it). What I did notice, was I would flick to the game during a commercial, and wind up missing half of that Grey’s Anatomy episode. I was clearly still drawn to the game, but decided to pay attention to other things instead.
The obsession began to take hold this season. (It could have had something to do with the fact that the Leafs won their first four games. Then again, I was at the game when that streak ended, and the Leafs wound up losing eleven of their next twelve games) I knew enough about the game to hold my own in a conversation, (or so I thought, now I’m thinking I probably just looked like an idiot when I was making my predictions) and I could name drop, but I missed something fundamental. There was enough interest in the sport, and I attempted to watch every Leafs game. That sprouted into visiting the Leafs website everyday, reading up on the players, and what to expect for their next game, which then turned into reading blogs, etc, etc.
Still... something was missing.
When I was a young girl, I watched The Mighty Ducks and immediately after seeing it, I wanted to play. I was probably around nine years old, and my father knew nothing about the sport. Who to contact? What equipment I would need? Where I could play? He said no. Which at the time I was rather pissed off about. I sulked for about a month, and then thought I got over it. Now, the fact that they let my brother play when he was old enough did frustrate me quite a bit, but that’s another story.
I never played. Occasionally, I would play street or ball hockey, but never anything serious. I will always remember one summer, while working at a camp, we set up a ball hockey game; it felt like something just clicked (I didn’t act on this until much later). I figure, because I had never played the game before, there was still a barrier between the sport and I.
That barrier has since been broken.
My father built a rink in my backyard this winter, and this has since opened me up to the game even more. I went out, bought a pair of used Grapfs, a stick and a pair of gloves. All during my winter break, I could be found in the backyard ripping up the rink. I have been an avid rollerblader all my life, and even though I was a little shaky at first, in no time I was skating as though I had been my whole life. As soon as I had that stick in my hand, I knew that this was something I was meant to do. As I am writing this, I realize that sounds extremely cliché. I ask myself a lot of questions, like “why didn’t I try this before?” I am almost twenty-one years old, and most people I know have been playing hockey since they could stand. People will probably laugh at my ass if I try to play anywhere other then my backyard; but here’s the thing. I don’t care.
Being back at school, without that rink in my backyard is probably the weirdest feeling ever. I miss it. Already. And I have only been back at school for two days. I know as soon as winter is over, I am going to feel as though there is a gaping hole where stick handling, and going top shelf used to be.
I want more. This summer, I am going to a skills clinic. I don’t care if I’m twenty and the rest of the people there are twelve. This is something I want to do; need to do. I love it, and no one can take that away from me. Even if they do laugh.
When dating my ex-boyfriend I tried to suppress the feeling for the sport. I would watch out of the corner of my eye; attempting to keep them glued to whatever drama was on my computer screen, but then something would happen. Those boys in blue would start racking up the goals, or their hits would rattle the boards, and I would get drawn in. While I was never intrigued enough to really do any research into the game, I started to ask more questions. I soon found myself paying no attention to the show on I’d idly put on my computer; the lid slowly closing until I was immersed in the game.
Throughout our relationship, I would roll my eyes whenever he would turn the game on. Pretending to have no interest at all. Then I was suddenly playing Proline. It felt good to believe in something (even if Toronto did lose the majority of the time). I clung to a specific player, Ponikarovsky. We both had Ukrainian lineage, and considering that was the only thing I had in common with any of the players, he stuck. I bought his jersey and began attending games.
Being at a live hockey game is a great experience. While I have only ever seen the Leafs win once at the ACC (when Gustavsson got his first shut out in the NHL) the atmosphere is unlike anything else. Everyone in the place (other then those guys who sit in their suits on their Blackberrys the whole time, but even they must raise an eye or a fist once in a while. It seems impossible to completely ignore the sport when it’s right in front of you). The roar of the crowd, chanting GO LEAFS GO! Tentative at first, but once a puck hit the net of whatever opposing team was in the ACC at the time, cheers and people on their feet. Electricity flows through that place. I can’t even imagine what it must be like to be a player. When they lose, the feeling is different, but that electricity still lingers. Crowds already looking toward the next game, hoping that they are going to do better next time.
After my ex and I split, I still followed what was going on, but would only watch a game during commercials. (That Thursday night game slot, also happens to be when Grey’s Anatomy and Private Practice are on. I’m a girl, I can’t help it). What I did notice, was I would flick to the game during a commercial, and wind up missing half of that Grey’s Anatomy episode. I was clearly still drawn to the game, but decided to pay attention to other things instead.
The obsession began to take hold this season. (It could have had something to do with the fact that the Leafs won their first four games. Then again, I was at the game when that streak ended, and the Leafs wound up losing eleven of their next twelve games) I knew enough about the game to hold my own in a conversation, (or so I thought, now I’m thinking I probably just looked like an idiot when I was making my predictions) and I could name drop, but I missed something fundamental. There was enough interest in the sport, and I attempted to watch every Leafs game. That sprouted into visiting the Leafs website everyday, reading up on the players, and what to expect for their next game, which then turned into reading blogs, etc, etc.
Still... something was missing.
When I was a young girl, I watched The Mighty Ducks and immediately after seeing it, I wanted to play. I was probably around nine years old, and my father knew nothing about the sport. Who to contact? What equipment I would need? Where I could play? He said no. Which at the time I was rather pissed off about. I sulked for about a month, and then thought I got over it. Now, the fact that they let my brother play when he was old enough did frustrate me quite a bit, but that’s another story.
I never played. Occasionally, I would play street or ball hockey, but never anything serious. I will always remember one summer, while working at a camp, we set up a ball hockey game; it felt like something just clicked (I didn’t act on this until much later). I figure, because I had never played the game before, there was still a barrier between the sport and I.
That barrier has since been broken.
My father built a rink in my backyard this winter, and this has since opened me up to the game even more. I went out, bought a pair of used Grapfs, a stick and a pair of gloves. All during my winter break, I could be found in the backyard ripping up the rink. I have been an avid rollerblader all my life, and even though I was a little shaky at first, in no time I was skating as though I had been my whole life. As soon as I had that stick in my hand, I knew that this was something I was meant to do. As I am writing this, I realize that sounds extremely cliché. I ask myself a lot of questions, like “why didn’t I try this before?” I am almost twenty-one years old, and most people I know have been playing hockey since they could stand. People will probably laugh at my ass if I try to play anywhere other then my backyard; but here’s the thing. I don’t care.
Being back at school, without that rink in my backyard is probably the weirdest feeling ever. I miss it. Already. And I have only been back at school for two days. I know as soon as winter is over, I am going to feel as though there is a gaping hole where stick handling, and going top shelf used to be.
I want more. This summer, I am going to a skills clinic. I don’t care if I’m twenty and the rest of the people there are twelve. This is something I want to do; need to do. I love it, and no one can take that away from me. Even if they do laugh.
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