The real hockey fan in the house is my husband. He’s dedicated. Seriously dedicated. Psychotically dedicated. I’m more on the side of fairweather, but I do support the team. I was the one who remembered to buy tickets early in the season, now that everyone is buying tickets. A couple of years ago, this was not necessary. You could mosey up to the window on game day. No longer.

Tonight I supported the team by NOT WATCHING the overtime of game 6. Trust me. I was bringing the bad juju to that game. They were winning, and then I walked into the room, and they weren’t winning anymore.

Greg, who is not superstitious at all, gave me a look.

So I made the supreme sacrifice to NOT WATCH the game, but instead get my updates through Greg’s moans and self-talk (that’s what they call it in the medical field, serious). Which is not a good way to follow a game.

Greg: What a piece of $#@!
Me (in the other room): What happened?
Greg: *grumble*
Me: What happened?

But then at last, Greg said: I think they won.

He thinks?

In the mean time, I started to hear fireworks, and Ursa slid into the bathroom and tried to put herself behind the toilet.

Me: Honey, don’t go back there. We don’t clean very well.

We have just created a Flyers fan. Or at least an “other team” fan. Let the other towns have fireworks.

[Edited because I got the PA team’s name wrong. I should have just called them the Cheesesteaks. You can never be wrong about Cheesesteaks.]
By Published On: June 10, 2010Categories: Life