Getting My Rink On

This was the week we finally hit the hockey rinks this season. On Wednesday we went to see the Blue Jackets take on the Detroit Red Wings. I've seen my teams play many games live in my life. Wednesday night's game was the worst I had ever seen live. It was horrible, embarrassing to watch and I missed Smokey Oolong show up at Writer's Block to see a putrid spectacle. The Blue Jackets lost 9-1.

Here's part of a poem I wrote after wards.

We're left mopping up mud puddles after heavy loss
 Ones evaporating dreams, ambitions, abilities
-  our projections of what success should be
When we enter a sporting arena
Wondering why we observe well paid young men
To hit each other on a slippery surface,
with sticks
Tomorrow, what happens outside of the two hours spent
forgetting about the troubles of the day is always more important
Maybe it's the Zamboini we desire
With its quiet resurfacing of the ice,
readying it for a fresh start,
for every period, every game.
It's the calm grace of the swirling of the organ music
in the background we're seeking out - and
Waiting for a small version of the Zamboni
to drive around in our heads and lives
as we sleep

Last night we made the first trip to the Schott to see the Ohio State Hockey Team play Western Michigan. That the opposition did not score a minute into the game was an improvement over the game we saw two nights previous. I had known that OSU had problems winning on Friday nights this year and that they were down 1-0 going into the third period was not a good sign.

But our fears were eliminated after the Buckeyes tied it up, then went ahead and added another. They scored three goals in a raucous 49 seconds to put the game away.



We were sitting a couple of rows behind the OSU bench and were tickled to see the players fist bumping the kids who gathered before and after the game. Even the Broncos did something nice. A puck went into their bench during the game and one of the WMU assistants tossed it over the glass to a kid. Classy act Western Michigan!