It’s hard to believe that we have lived here for four years now and had yet to go to a hockey game. Last week though, we finally experienced our very first live hockey game. Well, my husband had been to one before but he was in the nose-bleed section so it wasn’t much better of a view than you can get on our 27″ t.v. We had a blast and I think we should be made more official in our residency here because of it.
My parents and brothers came into town for a visit and my Dad, ever the one who wants to get a real taste of local culture when he visits a place, insisted (oh twist my arm a little harder would you?) that we all go to a hockey game together. We would have loved to have gotten in on an NHL game since the Flames are now in the playoffs but the tickets were not within our price range and the games didn’t fall on nights that would work for our schedules so we decided to go to the local semi-professional game, the Hitmen.
My third son who is 3 1/2, lovingly referred to on this blog as Mr. 13 Shirts, was not excited about going initially. When the excitement factor is high and people are trying to convince him that he needs to go to something I think he figures something must be up, he is going to be tricked or bamboozled or it will just be too much for him… he always decides to stay at home with the babysitter. However, Grandpa was intent upon getting Mr. 13 Shirts to go with the family, convinced that leaving him at home would be regrettable so Grandpa cut to the chase, skipped all conventional tools of parental prodding and pleading and brought out the unarguable big dog, THE FOOD.
“Oh but don’t you know there will be hot dogs there!? And popcorn?! Don’t you know about the food?!?! You want a hot dog and popcorn don’t you?”
Well, Grandpa and Mr. 13 Shirts are, after all, related and the same sort of things really speak to them. Mr. 13 Shirts quickly doubled back and decided, “Well… I guess I’d like to go. Yes. I’ll go. Hot dogs right?” You’d think with him being one of the two real Canadians in our house, he ought to want to go purely because of the game itself but nope, it was the food that clinched the deal. And he certainly did make sure to hold grandpa to all of his grand food promises.
To our pleasant surprise we were lucky enough to get front row seats. It was so much fun! The kids had a blast, we had a great view of the whole game and we got to experience a few near coronary infarctions and pants wetting experiences every time the puck whacked up against the glass or whenever someone took a big hit directly in front of us. Front seats at a hockey game, I think are incredibly more thrilling than front seats at a football game or baseball game.
If not for the glass we would have been sprayed with the flying sweat or had our teeth knocked out or our noses broken. And there’s something exceedingly thrilling about knowing that you are just one inch of plastic away from having a three inch permanent scar across your forehead and a large sweaty toothless man in your lap.
It’s also fun to see the mascot attempting to eat off your oldest child’s cranium.