The truth is, I have other interests. As much as I love hockey, there are other things in life that cast a spell. I’m neither smart nor wise enough to know if those fiddlebrains are going to end the lockout this week, but have settled on my theory about all of this crap and corruption.
I think these lockouts, these arena pissing contests, these $100,000 gaps that send Ryan Smyth away, they all cause a mental odometer in each of our heads to click. When we’re old, say 85, we realize that although its fun to enjoy the highs and even the lows of fandom it doesn’t really count for anything real. It doesn’t put supper on the table, it doesn’t improve one’s health, it doesn’t bring back the dead.
I think the lesson of this lockout is to remind us of the things that are important. For me, it’s a woman who has tolerated ridiculous behavior over a baseball (Expos) and a hockey (Oilers) team for 30 years; my two kids who despite my constant referencing of Horcoff, Smyth, Hemsky, Hall, Ebs, Nuge and Nail, remain stunningly disinterested in the Oilers, the players or any part of the team (perhaps if one of them played the guitar or starred in Saints Row they might know an Oiler); my little dog Ziggy who practically kills herself wagging her tail every time I arrive home–honestly, that dog has done more for my mental health in a year than 5 years at the shrink.
Its also about Keith Richards defying all that we know about survival and playing riffs 50 years later; a really good beer, Shawshank Redemption, Craig Ferguson, a terrific steak, Christmas, Oklahoma City, the WHL, Ed Hervey, Modern Family, Christmas morning, the new gloves I got for my birthday, the people who drop by this blog, Advil, comfortable shoes, Saturday.
I’m so thankful the NHL and NHLPA aren’t in charge of Saturday.