Go Sharks

God, I love hockey. I haven’t been a hockey fan for a long time; i tried, back in ’91 when the San Jose Sharks played their first couple seasons in the lovely Cow Palace in Daly City. But no one I knew particularly cared about hockey, and the team sort of sucked, and it’s really […]

God, I love hockey.

I haven’t been a hockey fan for a long time; i tried, back in ’91 when the San Jose Sharks played their first couple seasons in the lovely Cow Palace in Daly City. But no one I knew particularly cared about hockey, and the team sort of sucked, and it’s really hard to figure out hockey from watching it on teevee.

So while I always cared if the sharks were winning or losing, I just never got around to going to games.

That changed a couples seasons back. After years of trying to enjoy hockey games on teevee, my boss tossed me a couple tickets, given him by some sales droid from synopsys or cadence or mentor or some other CAD tools vendor. My boss has season tickets, so he didn’t need these. So I went, on a thursday night, taking Olivia, then nine or ten, with me.

I didn’t expect to last long. With a hyper-active nine-year-old who didn’t know a thing about the game sitting next to me, I figured we’d do well lasting into the second period. I was wrong though. We lasted through three regulation periods, and two overtimes; and when it was over, Olivia, almost passing out with exhaustion, still didn’t want the game to be over. She didn’t care really what the score was or even if we were winning, she just loved being there, the noise, the action, the wicked checking and fights on the ice. And I felt the same way. I loved it.

That night made hockey fans of the both of us.

I haven’t been to enough games since then – I tend to forget to buy tickets until the games I want to go to are sold out. I wish I could swing season tickets, but i don’t currently have the disposable income for it. And while I watch a few games each year, hockey on teevee is still a shadow of hockey live.

Hockey’s unique that way. I’m used to football, a game I know incredibly well. I know all the obscure rules and can often call plays from looking at formations. I’ve been a dedicated football fan since I was a kid. But no matter how much I loved going to football games back when I had my 49ers season tickets, the game is always better on teevee. It’s clearer what’s going on. The football experience is made for teevee, the pacing and structure of the game, it’s like they designed it with teevee in mind.

Even baseball works better on teevee. Unless you have great seats, you miss the core drama of baseball. The battle between pitcher and batter. The physical tension. Two men standing there not doing anything waiting, waiting, poised for a blur of frantic action, waiting. You feel the very air between them pull tight. That’s it, that’s baseball, and you can’t see it from the stands. So while baseball in a great park (like the Giants downtown-SF park, SBC park or pac bell park or whatever it’s called now) is a great experience, the game itself makes more sense in teevee.

Not hockey. Hockey is different.

Maybe it’s just the tiny puck. It’s hard enough to follow this thing from the stands. But more; hockey is a game of intense, frantic, crazed action. It’s a game where players move like fucking race cars, where the puck, the object of play, moves like a bullet, where bodies fly through the air and get pounded into the boards. The puck itself is dangerous, the audience sit behind protective glass and the players, most of them, are missing teeth.

But I think it’s the sound. You just don’t get it on teevee, no matter how good your system is. The scrape and crack and snick of blades on ice, the sticks clacking and whacking together, the sound of a two hundred pound player getting pounded into the side of the rink so hard you can feel your own ribs cracking. Hockey’s a highly sonic game. The ice itself reflects sound in a way no softer playing surface can. You can feel a check, and when a goal is scored, the room simply roars. No other sporty I’ve seen live has the sound factor hockey has.

You also get little things that teevee never shows you, and this is common to most sports; when you’re there you can see a play develop around the edges. Baseball outfielders coming in tight or backing up based on who’s at bat and some other signals I don’t know; football safeties and cornerbacks adjusting, dropping deep or crowding up to the line. The camera will pull in tight and show you pitcher or quarterback, and you miss the edges where, often a play is made.

But Hockey’s different in that the plays are set up, not in ten, or fifteen, or twenty seconds, but in two or three seconds. A player intercepts the puck and suddenly every player on the ice, on both teams, are frantically adjusting, skating at blinding speed in different directions, and you’re lost; where the fuck are they going, what’s he waiting for. And then suddenly you see, and they’re passing the puck and shooting on goal. And it’s all just a blink. It’s too fast and too subtle, by the time the cameras can catch it and the director can decide to show it, it’s over and you just see the center shooting, and the goalie in his sumo-wrestler pads doing an impossible split to save a goal. You don’t see what both teams did to set up. And they never show that stunn in re-plays, because it’s just guys whizzing around.

I’ve seen enough hockey, finally, that I can track it on teevee. I watched my San Jose Sharks disassemble the Nashville Predators last night, first round in this year’s Stanley Cup playoffs. The Sharks now lead the series 2-1. I watched this with Olivia, up past her bedtime, watching with me. The announcers mentioned that it’s been seven hundred and eight days since the last time San Jose hosted a Stanley Cup playoff game, and I realized that Olivia and I were at that game, watching the Sharks lose that day, but not caring, because just being there made it wonderful.

I love this sport. I want to be at the games.

Football, and If you can’t write, edit

Well, as much as I tried to get myself writing yesterday, it wound up being mostly football and lethargy. But it was pretty good football, I forgot we’re in mid NFL playoffs. I have the advantage of not caring which teams win since my teams all sucked ass this year. So I’m choosing who to […]

Well, as much as I tried to get myself writing yesterday, it wound up being mostly football and lethargy. But it was pretty good football, I forgot we’re in mid NFL playoffs.

I have the advantage of not caring which teams win since my teams all sucked ass this year. So I’m choosing who to root for game by game.

My total for the weekend:

Broncos vs New England – didn’t watch but I would have rooted for Denver cause I like Jake Plummer. The 49ers fucked up royally when they let him slip away in the draft a few years back, and it’s finally showing.

Seahawks vs Redskins – easy, Seahawks all the way. They played a great game and I’m likin’ them for the superbowl.

Pittsburgh vs Indy – you know, I like Payton Manning and I like Tony Dungy, but Indy ain’t as great as people think, and Payton’s not the second coming of Joe Montana. He’s at the top of an incredibly weak league, and while he’s certainly the best QB playing right now, he’s very very beatable. I’m a Pittsburgh fan from way back, they’re my third team, and they beat the Colts pretty completely (despite a forth quarter comeback by indy). First time I’ve ever seen Manning look desperate. If Bettis can just keep running like he did this weekend (and doesn’t drop any more footballs), this team will be hard to stop.

Carolina vs Da Bears – who cares? I hate them both, but rooted for Da Bears because I hate Carolina more. Stupid cat teams.

So I’m likin’ a Pittsburgh vs Seattle superbowl. Carolina looked good against the bears but honestly I don’t think either team belonged in the playoffs that much, they’re both uneven. Denver might take Pittsburgh down but the way Pittsburgh shut down Indy, it’s hard to see them getting beaten right now.

And if I was a bettin’ man I’d bet on a good superbowl with Pittsburgh on top.

Now, watch me be completely wrong, which is usually what happens.


So when the football was all over, I tried to do something, but lethargy won out. So I tried to write, but THE BLOCK got me. So I decided to edit.

I’ve moved all my stories over from SatinSlippers to my own auxiliary writing blog (at least the few things that were up in public, but the formatting got goofed up so I’ve tended to point links to SS. I finally fixed that (mostly) so all my writing links are to my local stuff.

SatinSlippers used to be a pretty dynamic site but it’s wound down through neglect, so I figured I might as well host locally. My stories are still there for as long as it stays around, though.

I wound up doing minor editing, but if you find something fucked up in one of my stories, leave a comment and I’ll make corrections. One of these days I need to go back and do a hard and thorough edit on all of it but I always find that difficult, I start to re-write and that just bogs me down. My hope, though, is that by editing, I start to think in writing terms again. I have a couple germ ideas for short stories but I can’t seem to actually get my hands on a keyboard when the moments of inspiration strike.

It’s that time already?

Doxy, it’s almost football season, already.

,

Doxy, it’s almost football season, already.

How the fuck did that happen?

Pre-season starts next Saturday, august 6 with an unimportant Indianapolis vs. Atlanta game (Interesting only because it’s in Japan); your team kicks off preseason that monday, august 8.

My guys, the 49ers, get into it against Oakland on the following saturday, august 13. Hell, I wonder if I can get tickets to that one?

I’m starting to miss my season tickets. Last year it was easy to have them gone, the worst year to be a 49ers fan since the late 1970s. But I’m watching a new coach – and it seems, a coach with a clue – build a new team around a new quarterback. New defensive, offensive co-ordinators, new defensive scheme. Lots of new players, for once, where they’re need, on the O-line.

I’m cautiously optimistic about my team’s chances, for the first time in a couple years.

I’m looking at my calendar. Wow, it’s been a long year since last I sat here thinking about the start of football season. A year ago today I was getting ready to go to Fiji. I was thinking about how I was missing my first football season in years with my season tickets gone.

A long, long year. I have not been in the ocean since then; I’ve not been on vacation since then, not really (well, a short trip to Florida, too short, and a day here or there).

I don’t feel like the same person I was a year ago; in some ways I’m better, in some ways not. I feel as if that summer was the start of some rebirth for me, a process that maybe is still only beginning.

It’s almost fall, already, summer past it’s peak and on the down-slide. The year is past it’s halfway point. For many years, where the summer begins to ebb, I’ve looked forward to football season as the consolation prize for the loss of my favorite season. Sundays, monday nights, become the high point in my week. Last year, it felt deeply strange to not care about it, to look forward to friday, the end of my week, more than I looked forward to monday nights and the game.

I’m hoping for a better season, this year. Doxy, I’m hoping our teams, with our first and second draft picks, can crawl back outta the pit and make us proud.

Let’s make us a date, ok? Some year, I’ll take you to the superbowl. And maybe this time your guys will win.

[made with ecto]

So much for hockey season

There goes hockey season. That link is to a good article by Dan Wetzel about why; corporate greed, over-expansion. Loss of tradition in the NHL. It’s a drag. San Jose is now a hockey town. It wasn’t when I was growing up, but the Sharks are San Jose’s team. No, we don’t have the century […]

There goes hockey season.

That link is to a good article by Dan Wetzel about why; corporate greed, over-expansion. Loss of tradition in the NHL.

It’s a drag. San Jose is now a hockey town. It wasn’t when I was growing up, but the Sharks are San Jose’s team. No, we don’t have the century of hockey tradition they have in Canada, in some back-east cities. And I’ve only just discovered hockey in the last couple years. It’s a sport you have to go see live, TV doesn’t do it justice. Maybe that’s the problem right there.

“It starts with commissioner Gary Bettman, the most hapless, hopeless executive in sports, who in 13 years in charge of the NHL has succeeded in little more than driving the once-proud league right into the grave.

It moves onto a collection of owners who care little about the game, about the fans, about the tradition – franchise killers such as Bill Wirtz in Chicago who care only about bottom line.

They (and their stooge Bettman) pursued reckless expansion for the sake of franchise fees, never taking time to realize it was a recipe for disaster. They (and their stooge Bettman) priced out families in pursuit of corporations. They (and their stooge Bettman) showed an utter lack of understanding for the sport, allowing neutral-zone traps, oversized goalie equipment and bear-hug defenses to suck the excitement out of the rink.”

I was planning to take my eleven-year-old daughter to a game for her birthday this season. We were gonna get seats against the glass. Now — who knows. Who knows if it’ll be back, if it’ll be the same.

Lutzes and Axels

I have to confess something. Yes, it’s true. I love figure skating. I’m completely hooked. It wasn’t always this way. 1992, the Winter Olympics in Albertville, I didn’t give a rat’s ass even as a local girl named Kristi Yamaguchi won gold. When Tanya Harding had her thugs play whack-a-mole on Nancy Kerrigan’s knee, I […]

I have to confess something.

Yes, it’s true. I love figure skating.

I’m completely hooked.

It wasn’t always this way. 1992, the Winter Olympics in Albertville, I didn’t give a rat’s ass even as a local girl named Kristi Yamaguchi won gold.

When Tanya Harding had her thugs play whack-a-mole on Nancy Kerrigan’s knee, I only cared because Kerrigan was so annoying (“Why? Why? Why?“) in the clips.

But then, early in 1994, I got caught up. I was up all night with a brand new Olivia, and I was watching Olympic events live, or weirdly tape delayed, or something, from Lillehammer Norway. I watched the opening ceremonies and was taken with the beauty of the location. Plus, you know, there was nothing else on. I watched everything. Biathlon. Curling. All of it.

And of course, with the Kerrigan/Harding drama, I watched the figure skating.

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Coach 4 Hire

Looks like the 49ers have a new coach: Mike Nolan. I dunno. I was sorta rooting for Mike Heimerdinger, but that might just be because I was liking the idea of hearing the sports casters say “Mike Heimerdinger” all season. I have so little faith in what York and company do that I have a […]

Looks like the 49ers have a new coach: Mike Nolan.

I dunno. I was sorta rooting for Mike Heimerdinger, but that might just be because I was liking the idea of hearing the sports casters say “Mike Heimerdinger” all season.

I have so little faith in what York and company do that I have a hard time being optimistic; we still need a GM and we still need to build an organization and we still need a great draft, and then York needs to start doing something, anything, right as an owner.

But at least we have a coach quicker than last time, and our choice seems a little less odd.

While I’m on sports, I thought I’d mention that I ran into Mooch (Steve Mariucci) at the gas station in my local town last week. He’s currently coaching the Detroit Lions, but he was the 49ers coach until recently, and was fired for no good reason by York. I have no idea what Mooch was doing here, but he was eating a twinky and laughed at me when I asked him if he was in town to ask for his old job back with the 49ers. Which is, you know, the right reaction to that question.

Bum’s Rush for the Owner

I don’t write about sports that much. There are some reasons. Hockey’s a no-op this season; baseball season’s over and I’m not really that much a baseball fan. I loath basketball. But mostly, the SF 49ers absolutely suck balls this season. I am 100% down with what Ira Miller says on the matter. It’s all […]

I don’t write about sports that much. There are some reasons. Hockey’s a no-op this season; baseball season’s over and I’m not really that much a baseball fan. I loath basketball. But mostly, the SF 49ers absolutely suck balls this season.

I am 100% down with what Ira Miller says on the matter. It’s all about the owners, and our owners are the problem.

If you have not been following along, this year’s 49ers now have one of the worst records in football, and either the worst ever for this team, or nearly that. They’re the worst they’ve been since the late 1970’s and the worst they’ve been since I started following the team. And they’re clearly a headless chicken, showing no hope that they get it enough to make anything better next year or the year after.

York has to go. He’s not a football man. He’s a fucking doctor and he needs to get back to doctoring, or hand over the checkbook to his football staff and shut up.

Ira nails it, go read that column.

Take Me Out To The…

This isn’t really like going to a ballgame. Not at all. It’s like going to fancy hotel that overlooks a ballgame. I can’t honestly say if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. But I can tell you it was fun. Last year, at a school charity auction, one of the families we’re friends […]

This isn’t really like going to a ballgame. Not at all.

It’s like going to fancy hotel that overlooks a ballgame.

I can’t honestly say if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. But I can tell you it was fun.

Last year, at a school charity auction, one of the families we’re friends with bought box tickets to a Giants game. I don’t know what they paid, and I have no idea what the box actually costs.

But this is what we’re talking about.

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Could we have chilies for breakfast, mummy dear oh mummy dear?

There’s nothing like habaneros for breakfast. Beats the crap out of last night’s tequila hangover. Though I have to admit, it’s sort of worth the hangover when you’re sippin’ $50 tequila that comes in a faux-animal-skin covered bottle. Interestingly, the tequila in question has a name that means either “Three Women” or “Three Wives” (I’ve […]

There’s nothing like habaneros for breakfast.

Beats the crap out of last night’s tequila hangover. Though I have to admit, it’s sort of worth the hangover when you’re sippin’ $50 tequila that comes in a faux-animal-skin covered bottle.

Interestingly, the tequila in question has a name that means either “Three Women” or “Three Wives” (I’ve heard both translations). I’ll let readers do the math on how that might apply, though I can say that the number may be only a rough count.

C, how’s that? Writing, not thinking. I’m better the other way.

Anyway, yes. habaneros. Habaneros and cheese, in this case, on toasted home-made wheat bread. And very strong peets.

This is a way to start the day which will hold the Superbowl (As if I care, the fucking Pats vs. the fucking Panthers, I mean, *please*. The real superbowl was played a couple weeks ago, the Colts lost. Wait for next year, we’ll have something good, like (just go with me here, ok?) the 49ers vs. the Dolphins again. Hey, it could happen.

And then there’s Survivor. Go Lex! Go Richard Hatch! Go – well, I dunno, there’s debate about this now – maybe go Rupert, maybe not. But let’s all tune in for Lex anyhow, and to see Rich is his new Survival Kilt made by my good friends at the Utilikilts company. And if you think Mister Hatch looks good in a kilt, you should see me in one!

Ok. Here’s where I should write about writing. There are topics to be covered. But maybe after the sun gets over the yard-arm and I can have me a cup ‘o the grog (or as it happens, mojitos or minted mai-tais depending on who’s tending bar this eve), then I’ll have more profound thoughts. For now, let’s stick with thoughts of kilts and grog and a better super bowl next year.

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