Shoes, Ships, and Sealing Wax

And I hate "The Hockey Song" too

I was not particulary impressed with last night's hockey game. By the time the ten fighting majors and seven game misconducts (plus the various minors) were doled out in the last two minutes, I was half-expecting to see Ned Braden doing a strip-tease at center ice.

Judging by the reaction of the crowd (if you can call the people who'd stuck around a crowd...maybe "throng" is more like it) I'm in the minority. Folks love the fights, don't they?

Frankly, I'd rather have seen the Capitals apply some of that intensity to the hockey part of the game, and maybe it wouldn't have been 4-2.

Perhaps it was my upbringing. Back in the '70's, when the bench-clearing brawls were a regularity (and I saw several), I happened to sit in a section with several older, more genteel hockey fans, like a retired RAF officer and his wife. The games that really got them excited? Montreal. When the Canadiens came to town I knew we were seeing something different and special. As a bloodthirsty kid, I don't know how much I appreciated it in 1976, but looking back now I realize my take-home message was to appreciate the Flying Frenchmen over Broad Street Bullies any day.

Speaking of the Habs, the worst insult to hockey history came during a trivia game. The question had something to do with which NHL player Alex Ovechkin had outscored in their first 100 games. When the arena PA announcer read the choices (Dino Ciccarelli, Wayne Gretzky, or Maurice Richard), he said "Maurice Rich-urd" (as in Richard Nixon) rather than "Rih-shard" (as in, well, Maurice Richard.) My jaw dropped. How can anyone involved in hockey not know how to say the Rocket's name?

All in all, an appalling evening.