Day 14 - Quick Hit From Maryland

Today's post comes to you from the heartland of DC hockey, Beltsville, MD. It is here where I grew up and fondly learned of the eloquent art form of ice-placed gang warfare. Watching grown men fueled with seething hatred, synthetic testosterone, and midclass vodka was a natural change of pace for the usual DC people that operated on beer. Growing up, I read a series of books called Animorphs. When I was a kid, reading KA Applegate's descriptions of the Hork-Bajir species, their body naturally comprised of sharp edges and a harsh attitude adequately described what I envisioned every hockey player to be, with the notable exception that the Hork-Bajir could make an occasional peace with their enemies (or be enslaved by the Yeerk; this analogy just took an interesting turn).

Today marks day 14 of the lockout and like an on-again, off-again sitcom couple, the players and owners refuse to come to terms with the fact that they miss one another. Sure, you may be toxic for each other, but your shenanigans produce a number of laughs and valuable entertainment that the rest of us have grown to appreciate and, dare I say it, to which we have become addicted.

The preseason is all but canceled and I already miss getting to see major league players take on away team's farm systems, the vital indicator of how well a team would do against college players, OHL hopefuls, and the Columbus Blue Jackets. I still cling on to the shred of hope that the regular season will start in time for the winter. As the NHL has an agreement, the proper sitcom protocol is simple. The players and owners need to engage themselves in a montage of times gone by, happening to see each other in the park, but not making eye contact, and and ultimately hugging it out (or cross-checking it out) at La Guardia or Kennedy (or Toronto's airport or mountie station).

While I'm in Maryland, I may as well go to a local ice skating rink and watch 12-year-olds duke it out over their petty prepubescent problems. That's the closest thing I'll see to hockey for at least the next six-eight weeks.