we, the nashville predators, played the chicago blackhawks last night at the Sommet Center up in beautiful downtown Nashville. the crowd was thin, but warmed up to being large in the enthusiastic section as the game progressed. sunday nights are not typical hockey nights, especially for the buckle of the bible belt. anyway, the game was a mix of slow/sloppy/ugly/fast/sharp/beautifully executed play and the fans got into the game pretty fast.
the thing about hockey in nashville, and most likely all the arenas, is that the opposing team will have fans in the stands. some will wear their sweaters/jerseys proudly and others come incognito, some hiding their identity until the beers start to flow. there were a smattering of blackhawk fans down a few rows from us in the lower bowl last night. i’d guess that six of them were in their jerseys and four or five were in street clothes. they were mixed in with pred fans, of course and behaved well, until–the beer started to flow. two of the street clothes guys and one sweatered fan were pretty vocal and animated and drunk by the second period. the gray shirted guy kept chanting, ‘let’s go blackhawks’, to his team, and everyone around him. including the people 10 rows behind him. a kid sitting in our row finally yelled down at him, ‘oh yeah? when’s the last time the blackhawks were in the playoffs?’ we all stared at the kid, who’s dad was smiling and pulling him back into his seat, and then looked at GrayShirt. he was speechless and finally shrugged his beer and said, ‘hey. ya got me there. i don’t know.’ he was cracking up and while laughing, mumbled, ‘hell, i don’t know all the stats and stuff,’ as he turned and walked down to visit with his buddies. as the night went on his antics increased. our fang-finger display which is a play on a sabertooth tigers fangs when a penalty is called on the opposing team, turned into a kitty cat hiss from him. okay – he’s brave to stand and do that to everyone surrounding him. then he got hold of a predators sweater, put it on and started cheering for nashville. when chicago went ahead, he pretended to spit on the jersey he was wearing. that’s when he stopped being funny and just turned obnoxious.
it was a long third period as we tried to ignore the clown and his accomplice who would slowly rise from his seat and waver as he held his brewski, head moving in slow motion trying to find the puck on the ice. he’d eventually tire out and lower himself back to his seat. they were harmless if not annoying.
the game went into overtime. oh joy.
the game went into a shoot-out. oh brother.
nailbiting. we wanted to win this game just to shut the damn chicago guy up.
we lost in the shoot-out.
the weiner was chicago.
the only thing worse than a bad gooser is an obnoxious weiner.
chicago is famous for their weiners, aren’t they? yeah, they are.