Land of puck schmucks
SERIOUSLY, NOT even now? You canât even summon the decency to jump on the Ducks bandwagon now? Or whatever lame version of a bandwagon it is when, instead of a parade for winning the Stanley Cup, the celebration consists of hanging out in the Honda Center parking lot at 6:30 on Saturday and waiting for free Wienerschnitzel hot dogs, Pepsi and Aramark barbecue potato chips. Thatâs not a celebration. Thatâs Day 3 for Katrina victims.
Hollywood Boulevard should be covered in ice. Emilio Estevez should be permitted to make another movie. Small children in little No. 25 sweaters should be hitting each other with sticks. You should be getting that joke.
Hours after the Ducks became Californiaâs first Stanley Cup winners, when the L.A. Times briefly filled its website with a huge, unavoidable banner headline, the article was only the No. 2 most-viewed story, after one about Caltrans shutting down part of California 138 for roadwork. Jiggy stopped an Antoine Vermette penalty shot, and yet youâre more surprised by traffic in Los Angeles? I canât believe the game wasnât preempted for breaking news of a Lindsay Lohan speeding violation. By Thursday, the Ducks were off the most-viewed list entirely. Do they have to become the Los Angeles Ducks of Anaheim to get your attention?
L.A., I hate your brainless refusal to give hockey a chance, despite all itâs given you. At the beginning of the season, when the Ducks were already favorites to win, The Times planned to save money by not sending reporters to cover hockey âawayâ games. I would find this even more infuriating if The Times werenât also considering saving money by not sending reporters to the office.
Sure, my love of hockey -- which admittedly started when I was a wimpy, nerdy kid who didnât relate to any sports because I couldnât play them and longed to seem different -- is a little pathological. So is wasting space in a paper writing about hockey. In fact, because Op-Ed columns and hockey are both dying mediums, Iâd probably be more effective making a daguerreotype about bocce.
And itâs not just L.A. The whole country is bafflingly uninterested in hockey. Only nine of the cities that have NHL teams bothered sending reporters to Anaheim for the finals; the New York Times only sent someone to Game 1. News conferences were held over the phone. Monday nightâs game was tied for the lowest-rated TV show in the history of NBC, the network that brought us âManimal.â Earlier playoff rounds were on a channel called Versus, which is so irrelevant it isnât even owned by ESPN. An overtime playoff game on NBC was ditched in favor of a Preakness pre-race show -- which was just live coverage of a petting zoo. Hockey is the only thing Jerry Bruckheimer is involved in that America doesnât watch.
Iâve tried explaining the beauty of the sport to too many people, too many times. These are normal-size guys playing a contact sport while also ice skating, spinning beautiful ballet while beating the crap out of each other. Imagine how awesome âThe Nutcrackerâ would be if they actually did what the title promised.
But for the same reasons Americans canât follow soccer, you shun hockey. You canât comprehend that far more exciting than scoring is the possibility of scoring. Itâs the tension of hope extended, uninterrupted by huddles and time-outs. But apparently appreciating the moments in between is too much to ask of you. Is it surprising that our first response to a situation is to go to war given that we prefer sports where pituitary cases pile up scores like 110-109? If LeBron James gets any better, Iran is in serious trouble.
Sure, hockey is a little white, but you know what? Those are my people. Actually my people are the Jews, but Iâm not going to fly to Boca for the national mah-jongg championships. I like country music, hockey, Tolkien, cycling, crisp white wines and the movie âOrdinary People.â Seriously, I need hockey to make me seem less gay.
The Ducks are an amazing team. Vicious checking that somehow never clogs the game. Teemu Selanneâs smiling misdirection with the puck in front of the net. The Niedermayer brothers finally on the same side of the ice. If you canât show that you deserve this team next year -- by, say, watching them -- I hope Canadian teams win the cup for the next 20 years. And I hope Canada does something that will actually bother you, like releasing more Celine Dion albums.
And donât make me yell at you again when the Tour de France starts next month. This is Santa Rosa resident Levi Leipheimerâs big year.
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Go beyond the scoreboard
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