Day 605

Energy

Playoff hockey is like nothing else and in an arena where there hasn’t been an empty seat since preseason and where opposing teams regularly have issues communicating on the ice because the decibel level of the fans is ear splitting at above 105 (sustained nearly the entire game), that’s saying something.

In our inaugural season people often said that it was like playoff atmosphere in the fortress at every game… That is, until we actually got into the playoffs and people got a taste of what that energy is like.

Tonight our boys came home for game three of the first round of the Stanley Cup playoffs. They were on fire. Scoring scant minutes into the game, we drew blood first … and the blood letting continued.

It’s interesting to watch a team like San Jose when the pressure turns up. The handful of players they have whose penchant for dirty play is pretty consistent, rise to the occasion and devolve pretty quickly.

Watching Ryan Reaves get a hold of Evander Kane with two minutes left in the game was sheer magic.

And then there was the incident in the parking lot…

For some reason traffic was jammed up more tightly than usual, and cars just weren’t moving. I put my car into park turned off the engine as did most of the other drivers.

It was clear we weren’t going anywhere and so folks just hung out. Then traffic began to move a bit, and a white SUV that I had walked past on the way to my car came cruising around the corner and pulled out to go down the ramp. There was one lane but apparently this guy believed that he didn’t have to be in it. He proceeded to scream at an older couple that was taking their turn. When traffic began to move again I pulled around to wait and he stopped his car, waving me in front of him. It was perplexing but as he gestured with increasing agitation I waved and pulled out.

Being on a ramp I was giving some distance to the car in front of me and when I didn’t move forward fast enough, he began to scream st me … “Don’t you know how to drive you stupid fucking cunt? I let you in you bitch, fucking drive.”

It got worse. His wife was in the front seat. His daughter in the back. He ranted on and on — called me a cunt a few more times.

So I got out of my car.

“Where exactly do you expect me to go? My car doesn’t levitate. We’re all going the same place. My driving on someone’s bumper won’t make the traffic move faster.”

I can’t say that I’m particularly proud of how I handled myself in this situation, but what struck me was his vitriolic attack — and i so t have to guess who he voted for in the last election.

At least we won the game.

Today’s Gracious Gratitude. I am grateful for:

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