Day 100 - Twelve Days of Christmas (Hockey Edition)

On the first day of Christmas, my GM gave to me, my name written on the Stanley.

On the second day of Christmas, my GM gave to me, two decent linemates and my name written on the Stanley.

On the third day of Christmas, my GM gave to me, three local sponsors, two decent linemates (So, you guys are twins?), and my name written on the Stanley.

On the fourth day of Christmas, my GM gave to me, four million dollars, three local sponsors (I love Bob’s BBQ!), two decent linemates (what part of Canada is Sweden in?), and my name written on the Stanley.

On the fifth day of Christmas, my GM gave to me, five Zambonis! Four million dollars (That’s a one-way contract, right? I can’t stand the thought of playing in New York and/or Brooklyn), three local sponsors (Can they see my face under the mouse mask?), two decent linemates (Will you guys pass me the puck?), and my name written on the Stanley.

On the sixth day of Christmas, my GM gave to me, six months vacation, five Zambonis! Four million dollars (Wilkes-Barre is a pretty place), three local sponsors (I’m not saying, “It’s rude if not microbrewed.”), two decent linemates (Oh you’re doing that thing where you switch jerseys. Very funny guys.), and my name written on the Stanley.

On the seventh day of Christmas, my GM gave to me: seven fitted jerseys, six months vacation (Wait, the NHL has playoffs, too?), five Zambonis! Four million dollars (I bought a boat.), three local sponsors (My salary is worth three times this car lot.), two decent linemates (No, I’m not letting you do face-offs.), and my name written on the Stanley.

On the eighth day of Christmas, my GM gave to me: eight Flyers fighting, seven fitted jerseys (I don’t think these are my size), six months vacation (No, I thought the Stanley Cup was a special jock strap), five Zambonis! Four million dollars (It’s the USS Suck It.), three local sponsors (Is this being shot with a Polaroid?), two decent linemates (Fine, you can BOTH do face-offs.), and my name written on the Stanley.

On the ninth day of Christmas, my GM gave to me: nine ladies dancing, eight Flyers fighting (I told you guys not at practice!), seven (Why are the letters falling off?), six months vacation (So, I get the same pay no matter how far we go?), five Zambonis! Four million dollars (You wanna ride?), three local sponsors (Honey, my commercial’s airing between 1-4 am! DVR it!), two decent linemates (Stop playing “Monkey-in-the-Middle”!), and my name written on the Stanley.

On the tenth day of Christmas, my GM gave to me: a ten day suspension, nine ladies dancing (I think you were good enough for the Cowboys), eight Flyers fighting (No, not at the mall either!), seven (These aren’t the team colors.), six months vacation (No, I didn’t know playoffs did not go into shootouts.), five Zambonis! Four million dollars (Well, you can’t! Suck it!), three local sponsors (The best part is I get a 10% discount on pre-approved non-showroom items!), two decent linemates (I’m sorry they scored. Well, I don’t speak Twin!), and my name written on the Stanley.

On the eleventh day of Christmas, my GM gave to me: eleven die hard fans (Yay, Phoenix), a ten day suspension (he ran into my fist!), nine ladies dancing (Yeah, you all can stay at my place, I have room), eight Flyers fighting (I don’t care who sits on Santa’s lap first!), seven (Coach, was I traded?), six months vacation (Because I don’t see who would want to watch hockey in June.), five Zambonis! Four million dollars (Zooooooom!), three local sponsors (I honestly do like Subway better than Betty’s Diner), two decent linemates (That’s it. I’m going to Raleigh.), and my name written on the Stanley.

On the twelfth day of Christmas, my GM gave to me: twelve years of playing, eleven die hard fans (I’m moving to Quebec with you!), a ten day suspension (his head was concussed before I got there), nine ladies dancing (Yeah, it’s one bed, but there’s still enough room), eight Flyers fighting (no, YOUR MOM!), seven (I HATE Wilkes-Barre AND Scranton!), six months vacation (This is really interfering with my golf game), five Zambonis! Four million dollars (I’m awesome!), three local sponsors (I honestly do like Betty’s Diner better than Subway), two decent linemates (Yes, I know how to play “Monkey-in-the-Middle”.), and my name written on the Stanley!

Day 99 - By the Redskin of their Teeth

Today, the Washington Redskins beat the Philadelphia Eagles setting them up for a division title showdown with their archrivals, the red zone, goal posts, and the Dallas Cowboys. A win would give the Skins their first division title since 1999, a year noted by scares from Y2K and Prince. It's not entirely necessary for the Skins to win this game. They could still make the playoffs with a loss from: the Giants, the Vikings, the Seahawks, the Bears, and the DeMatha Catholic Stags, the second and third coming of Jesus Christ, and the birth of Khole Kardashian's baby by Kanye West.

Why the Redskins will win this game:
Using some statistical methods I learned from watching "Moneyball", I have found that including home field advantage, the Skins are a 3.5 point favorite to beat Dallas, 29.5 - 26 (that extra point of course coming from a really pretty field goal by Kai Forbath, like if field goal kickers played horse, that would be the kind of field goal he would kick). They also beat the Cowboys on their turf in Dallas earlier this year (and, to add insult to injury, probably set their big screen on a loop endlessly on soft core porn). Finally, the coach has stated that if they lose, then nobody makes the team next year, Lane Smith from "The Mighty Ducks" style. Evidently, Mike Shanahan has also been able to make playing for the Redskins a privilege, a prestigious position. This is the same team that couldn't beat the Detroit Lions in 2009. Good job, Mike!

Why the Redskins will lose this game:
Because I want them to win. Because they're from DC. Because it would bring happiness to millions of people. The only thing worse than seeing grown men weep is to see them weep while masked in pig snouts and blonde wigs and dresses. I fully expect the outcome of this game to result in the tearing of RG3's ACL and LCL, temporarily injuring the human parts of his robot body. Hopefully the team that built RG3 is giving him the adequate upgrades and patches to make it through this game. The only real hope the Redskins have is for Tony Romo to have team senility and accidentally throw the ball to the Skins like five or six times.

It would be nice to see a 'Skins victory on Sunday, but I'm not holding my breath. I've blacked out too many times for DC teams. Just play a good game, Washington. Hail to the Redskins!

Day 98 - The Mayan Prophecy

As of this writing the world hasn't ended, but hockey may have, for at least this season and probably the next. Games have been canceled through the 14th of January. Even with a ridiculously short schedule, that leaves us with just under fifty games, a schedule that would essentially be the same length as the postseason that would follow. This March Madness buffer really offers no solace. This season has been nothing but office meetings with no results. It's like hockey is run by a college administration, hopefully not a FBS school, because that would leave us without a playoff. The Stanley Cup winner would go to the highest voted team, which would probably be Boston College.

I'll get my archaeological friends to look into the Mayan tablets to see if there was anything that points to the melting of the polar ice caps, which would either mean some kind of Nostradamus layering of hockey being canceled, or the polar ice caps would begin melting and North Carolina would finally get some snow. Either way, it's bad.

I do want a season and I'm not against a de facto home-and-home series amongst all the teams; I just want everything to be done right. Do right by your fans. Please.

Day 97 - The Conferences Get Shaken And Stirred

It's that time of year when schools change conferences, in search of greener pastures and higher profits, seeking more favorable opponents and more national exposure. This has led to the dissolution of traditions forged by history and the creation of conferences that exceed the size of their professional counterparts and in no way, shape, or form, represent the geographic proximity and cultural similarities that led to their naming convention. Here are my predictions for the future roller coaster ride of conference realignment.

The Catholic Seven (minus Notre Dame, so the Catholic Six) will form their own basketball conference or super-villain headquarters.

All the Texas schools and all the Oklahoma schools will leave their conferences and form the Cotton Bowl conference.

The Big 10 will stop underestimating the math skills of its target demographic and rename itself the Best of the Midwest conference.

Conference USA will dissolve and reform as Conference America with the exact same members. The only difference is that this conference will have ties to Six Flags and other local water parks.

Memphis, Towson, Auburn, LSU, Missouri, and Clemson will all form a minor Tiger conference, with the potential to add Villanova, Kentucky, and Arizona institutions as an all cats conference.

Bowling Green will go independent and then back to the Mid-American conference. No one will notice.

The remaining members of the SEC will replace the current members of the NFC East and start a dynasty of Super Bowl teams.

Day 96 - Ice Skating

I was thinking the other day about what hockey players do with their girlfriends and I thought that ice skating would be an obvious choice, but then I thought they might think, "if I see another rink, I will kill someone." Maybe they ask their girlfriend what they do for a living. "Oh, you work in an office typing and stapling all day. Awesome. I wanna watch you do that. I want to romantically look into your eyes doing that."

Ice skating is really one of those go-to dates that you only go on when you've completely run out of ideas and there is nothing else exciting to do. So a couple of weekends, I took my girlfriend ice skating, joining the ranks of other couples scraping the bottom of the barrel for their romantic activities.

It had been some time since I had been skating. The old style of skates relied entirely on shoestrings tied up and wrapped around like a Rubik's cube made of string. The new style of skate is like a plastic tie strap. It comes across as a very Playskool My First Skate feel. The beauty of this style is that it comes in two flavors. Ridiculous blood-clotting tightness or extremely clumsy, don't-take-turns-too-hard-or-at-all, ankle twisting looseness.

After the battle to attach swords to our feet, it was time to take to the ice. There was a rec-league hockey game that had recently ended, so the ice was a little chippy, but surely a Zamboni would take to the ice to resurface it any second. After eighty solid minutes, hope dwindled, my faith unrewarded in any capacity, ice rinks, hockey, Christmas. It became a belligerent evening as a fire code breaking crowd took to the ice, reducing it to mere frictionless concrete as one point.

The wonderful thing about exerting a modicum of physical energy around other guys creates an exponential growth of testosterone and destroys any inhibitions about competitions or skill level. I hadn't been skating since I was twelve, but I really thought I could be the greatest skater in the world. What started as romantically holding my girlfriend's hand and gently striding with her quickly evolved into a race against myself and other boyfriends. Three strides in, I felt I was the king of the rink, before quickly being humbled by a out of nowhere wall, because all great dates should end with a trip to the ER.

The rink was terrible. There was no couples skate, or guys only, or girls only skating, but it did take my mind off of hockey for one night. So thank you, local ice house.

Day 95 - The AHL Teams, Part 3

Chicago Wolves - They're like the Blackhawks, if the Blackhawks couldn't skate. So they're more like the Chicago Cubs on ice.

Grand Rapids Griffins - Their fans are as mythical as their mascot.

Milwaukee Admirals - Like the Norfolk Admirals, only with less beach.

Peoria Rivermen - I think this is a team mostly comprised of former World of Warcraft players who couldn't hack it on "The Biggest Losers".

Rockford IceHogs - This team name makes me think of the Frost Giants from "Thor". What would they eat? Obviously IceHogs, prepared for by their Ice Wives. After drinking vodka on ice, they would have ice cream.

Charlotte Checkers - The southernmost city in this cadre of minors, this name lost to the Charlotte Yahtzee by four votes.

Houston Aeros - Their mascot looks as intimidating as a Pinewood Derby car.

Oklahoma City Barons - I think it should be law that only Texas should be allowed to have Barons. Oklahoma City should go by some name that closely resembles their NBA team, like the Oklahoma City Boom.

San Antonio Rampage - Their arena would be the best arena if they had every iteration of the Rampage arcade game lined up in their corridors.

Texas Stars - Not a hockey team per se, just a supergroup of country music stars captained by Carrie Underwood.

Day 94 - The AHL Teams, Part 2

Binghamton Senators - Playing in the Broome County Veterans Memorial Arena, games have been known to be cancelled due to VFW bingo nights.

Hershey Bears - Hershey is the City of Chocolate. They feed into the Capitals, who play in the Chocolate City. That's weird.

Norfolk Admirals - If they were demoted to the ECHL, would they be called the Norfolk Captains?

Syracuse Crunch - Named after a Batman fighting title card, this team is as intimidating as a Batman fighting title card.

Wilkes-Barre/Scranton Penguins - The city name screams Little League baseball team. The players scream elementary school dodgeball team.

Abbotsford Heat - This team will share its arena with the Lingerie Football League team, the BC Angels. My gut instinct is that this team will "accidentally" double book itself.

Hamilton Bulldogs - I think this team is missing out on a vital opportunity to cobrand with the Pound Puppies. Just sayin'.

Lake Erie Monsters - I like to think that they misspell the team name as "Monstars" and Danny DeVito threatens to sell them to Warner Brothers on a consistent basis.

Rochester Americans - Naturally, this team is made up of 70% Canadians.

Toronto Marlies - The second professional sports team in Toronto. The other is the Toronto Raptors.