I Got Your Back Joel Peralta!

Thursday, which is actually today, a young (and by young, I mean he’s 36) Tampa Bay Rays* player found himself in a bit (and by bit I mean A LOT) of trouble.

It seems Joel Peralta, one of their relief pitchers, thought he needed a little bit of help in the pitching department. And seeing as how he used to play for the Kansas City Royals, a team known for horrible pitchers, he is probably not incorrect, but I have digressed.

Our good friend Joel here decided to place a wee bit of pine tar within his baseball glove and according to rule 8.02** in the MLB rule book, “the pitcher shall not apply a foreign substance of any kind to the ball”. When he put the ball in the glove itself, voila, pine tar ball, otherwise known as foreign substance ball. You can’t hit a pine tar ball, this is a fact*** and Joel Peralta knew this.

You are not allowed to doctor the ball. Joel was a class A offender of this rule. Or so the MLB would want us to think.

However, Joely, as I refer to him, does not see this incident in the same light as the MLB. He has decided to appeal this suspension, on the grounds that he did not do it, I guess. Although I sort of feel like he was caught pine-tar handed (see what I did there?) Or perhaps he’s going to attempt to justify why the pine tar was inside of his glove.

And that is where I come in. I got your back Joely! I can justify absolutely any situation. So let’s get started.

Pine Tar Glove Appeal Topics For My Good Friend**** Joel Peralta, AKA Joely P.

#1. My glove smelled like sweaty hands. Mostly because my sweaty hand is always in it. I thought perhaps the pine tar would give it a delightful ‘woody’ scent. I was incorrect.

#2. I suffer from extra sweaty palms. My hands sweat A LOT. And since they’re really, really sweaty I have a hard time holding onto the baseball to pitch a quality 4-finger fastball. I thought the pine tar would help my grip. Is that against the rules? My bad guys.

#3. Matsui did it! That guy’s been after me all season. He wanted me to get suspended. I’ve said it time and time again, you cannot trust a guy name Hideki. And no one believed me, but looks what he’s done now. He’s ruined me.

#4. That’s not pine tar guys. That’s my saliva. I’m dipping. I love chewing tobacco. I’ve been hooked ever since I saw The Sandlot. Those guys and their dipping then riding on carnival rides. That movie is hilar!

#5. Ummm…..I’m from the Dominican. We don’t really have rules there. I didn’t know these rules were actually enforced. My bad guys. Won’t happen again.

#6. I suck at pitching. I have a 3.72 era. I suck so bad that the Royal didn’t want me. And they love terrible pitchers. I needed all the help I could get okay? Just let me have this one.

There ya go Joely! Take any of the above and I guarantee your appeal will be successful. There is no way you will still be suspended after this.

*Don’t worry men of the Tampa Bay baseball team, I know ‘Rays’ is a pretty stupid sounding mascot, therefore you will always be the Devil Rays to me. You’re welcome.
**This is a real rule. I googled it. Google does not lie.
***I have absolutely no evidence that this is a fact.
****Would you believe that we’re not actually friends at all? I’ve never even met the guy.

You Mean New Jersey’s Mascot ISN’T Beelzebub?

The NHL playoffs are almost over. A group of 16 has been narrowed down to a mere 2 teams; the Los Angeles Kings and the New Jersey Devils.

No one could have predicted such an anomaly occurring. What happened to the Penguins / Predators final? Well, they both choked. (which by the way, has led me into a deep, dark, depression, full of catching up on Glee and playing games of NBA Jam. Come back to me Preds!!) And that is why America is left to choose between a team from a land full of celebrities or a team from a land where tan guidos freely roam the streets. Kind of a lose-lose situation if you ask me.

So you’re probably debating on which bandwagon you are going to jump on for the Stanley Cup Finals, right? No? Just me? Oh well. I’m going to continue anyway.

Both teams have their perks but also their…not-perks (what the heck would that word be?)

New Jersey Devils

  • Contrary to popular belief the people of New Jersey do not support Satan. Instead they support the mythical Jersey Devil that resembles a moose with wings. Pro? Maybe?
  • Snooki. Con.
  • Puddy is on their side. Pro, classic Seinfeld episode.
  • Used to be the Kansas City Scouts. Pro, everything from Kansas is great.
  • Only team bold enough to actually declare themselves a part of New Jersey. Con. Why would they want to admit that?
  • Zach ParisePro. Guy is a beaut!

  • 3 Stanley Cups Pro, for experience. Con, because I like underdogs.
  • Not the Nashville Predators. Con. 

Los Angeles Kings
  • Wayne GretzkyPro. DUH. Dude’s a legend.
  • Dustin Brown. Con, kinda looks like a weasel.
  • Anze Kopitar. Pro, makes up for weasel-faced Brown
  • Lion mascot. Con, not real creative for a team in a land full of struggling actors and writers.
  • They chirp super hard on twitter. Pro. HILARIOUS. Check it out: @LAKings
  • Gave tickets to Rainn Wilson in a jello mold. Pro, also hilarious.
  • 8 seed that has won 12 out of the 14 games they’ve played. Pro. Has the makings of a great Disney movie.
  • 0 Stanley Cups. Pro, underdogs
  • Also not the Nashville Predators. Con

So there you go. An exhaustive list* of the best and worst qualities of each team. Do with it what you will.
As for me, well, I like movies where teams overcome adversity and win championships so ya, I’m going with the Kings. Plus I seriously enjoy their twitter.

 *not even close.

NBA? More Like No Thank You-a!

[Disclaimer: First of all, I apologize for the title. Sometimes I think I’m more clever than I really am. Secondly I realize the NBA is very popular. Don’t come after me with torches.]

It time that I confess, I don’t get the NBA. It’s all over the TV and internet because apparently some sort of ‘playoff’ scenario is happening right now. A bunch of giant men, trying to win some sort of ring. I don’t know, it seems a little girly to me.

You see once a year, during March Madness, I attempt to understand the world’s fascination with basketball. I last approximately until Gonzaga is knocked out and then I am done. I can’t even last 5 minutes of an NBA game. So ya, I don’t really get it.

But what I do get is:

  • The game is played with a ball.
  • The ball is more formally known as a basketball
  • The point of the game is to get the basketball into the basketball goal.
  • On the basketball goal there is a hoop with a net attached.
  • The ball goes into the net to score a goal.
  • Blake Griffin plays basketball.
  • He dunks the basketball a lot.
  • 90% of SportCenter’s Top 10 anything related to basketball is some sort of dunk.
  • Dunk is a fancy word for jumping up really high and placing the basketball into the hoop forcefully without it ever leaving your hands.
  • There was an NBA lockout.
  • When the lockout happened Blake Griffin did this.
  • Blake Griffin is the only NBA player I care about because of this. Also his dreamy good-looks.
  • There’s also a player named Metta World Peace.
  • Metta World Peace is a moron because he legally changed his name to Metta World Peace.
  • NBA teams, like Metta World Peace have stupid names.
  • The stupidest being the Golden State Warriors. That is not even a real state.
  • Whichever terribly named team can shoot the orange ball into the hoop the most times wins a stupid, shiny, girly, ring, like this:

That’s it. That’s the NBA in a nutshell.

It’s not that I don’t get how it works, I do. I played basketball for a whole 2 months in the 4th grade. And I probably scored at least once. AND I’ve played NBA Jam a lot on Super Nintendo. So ya, I’m pretty great at knowing basketball.

I just don’t GET it, ya know? No? You don’t know? Because you enjoy the NBA? You don’t think it’s a waste of time? Hmm…well, that’s a weird.

I guess, I hope your team wins a ring?

Memo to Self: Don’t Slam Baseball Bats Into Walls

Let me set the scene for you.

It’s a delightful May evening in Washington DC. It’s warm but there’s just enough of a cool breeze to keep a person from getting heat stroke. A perfect night to take in a baseball game at Nationals Park.

You’re sitting in the upper deck enjoying a ballpark frank and maybe a cola of sorts. You’ve just sat back down after the a rousing chorus of “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” signaling the classic 7th inning stretch. Next thing you know a bloodied 19-year-old ventures out onto the field.

You’re shocked, appalled and maybe even vomiting a little bit of your ballpark frank back up, when you realize, “Hey wait! That’s not just any bloody faced 19-year-old! That’s our wunderkind of an outfielder, Bryce Harper! What the heck happened to him?”

Well, it seems this young, talented, first-round draft pick was getting frustrated with his inability to connect his bat with a ball. So he did the most logical thing he could think of.

He went down into the dugout tunnel and slammed his bat into the wall.

Apparently, young Bryce does this often. Normally, he slams that bat hard into concrete and goes back onto the field with a little less anger, but this time, that bat fought back. That bat was tired of being slammed into things and decided to get its revenge.

It smacked Bryce Harper right in the face. That bat just bounced right off the wall. Into his face. Either he didn’t realize that the bat had caused him some serious face marring or he just didn’t care but he went back onto that field with blood dripping down his face, as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening.

I imagine the conversation between Harper and Rick Ankiel went something like this:

“Uh. Hey Harpy*….”
“Ya Anks*?”
“I don’t want this to be awkward, but you’ve got some blood leaking out of your eyebrow.”
“Oh, ya Anks. That’s probably because I just went down into the tunnel back there and slammed my bat into the wall, then it bounced back into my face. So ya…that’s probably why I’m bleeding.”
“That was pretty stupid Harpy.”
“Get off my back old man! I’m a 19-year-old rookie. I do stupid things!”
“Yes you do Harpy, yes you do.”

So then young Harpy recieved 10 stitches in his eyebrow. And as if hitting himself in the face with a baseball bat wasn’t enough he had to wear this sign of shame for the rest of the game and was also forced to sit out of the lineup for the next two.

The moral of the story is: if you are upset about going 0-5 in your at-bats don’t hit your wooden bat into a cement wall. It will hit you back.

Quite frankly, I’m surprised this hasn’t happened to him sooner. Logical sense tells me that if I slam something hard into something slightly harder it will bounce back.

But you know, Harper has obviously skipped out on the college experience and that’s why he’s a 19-year-old MLB player and I’m not. We’ll chalk this one up to youthful stupidity.

In the meantime maybe the Nationals should buy the guy some Sock ‘Em Boppers.

More fun than a pillow fight…or having your own baseball bat hit you directly in the face.

*I made up these nicknames, but I will be incredible upset to find out they aren’t real.

[Side note. The guy does NOT look 19. I’m seeing at least 25, they should probably check his birth certificate. But you know, whatev.]

This Is Why I Can’t Have Nice Things

An open letter to the Nashville Predators:

You had such a great season. If there was ever a year that your team could win a Stanley Cup, this was the year. Your team was strong, you were feisty, you had it all. Your GM, David Poile even went out and added a few more pieces to your offense to make your team just that much stronger for cup contention. But little did Poile know, it was all in vain…

Because I was on your side.

Ya…I’d give me that look too Rads.

I should have seen this coming. I’m not allowed to have nice things. I’ve never been on the side of a sports team who was good at what they do. I should have known it was too good to be true when you guys had a winning record and I was rooting for you.

You see, I grew up in Kansas City. I’ve been a Kansas City Royals fan since I can remember. (Sure when I was little tike, I only enjoyed games for the hot dogs, but as time went on, I became a fan for the baseball aspect rather than the tubular meats thing) I don’t know if you know this, but the Royals are terrible. For example, I was born in 1989. Since that year the Royals have registered 0 World Series titles/appearances, 0 Central Division titles, and have been wild cards a grand total of…0 times. I know it seems crazy for me to say that this is my fault, but it is. Hang with me here.

Now initially, I thought my curse was solely based on my direct proximity to the team. I went ahead and proclaimed that this would be the Royals year since I no longer live in Kansas. I even went as far as to say that the Atlanta Braves would just be terrible because of my very presence in the South. And guess what happened. The Braves are great and the Royals, well, they are still terrible. It turns out it has nothing to do with my physical presence. The Royals have won a grand total of 9 games out of the 28 they have played. I don’t know if you guys can do math, but that’s a horrible winning percentage. Apparently, if my heart is for a team they’ll suck. I even thought that maybe if I claimed allegiance to the Braves it would help, but my Braves allegiance wasn’t sincere. My mouth said Braves, but my heart still says Royals. And that’s why the Royals cannot possible succeed until I completely cut my ties from them. I bring bad luck.

I don’t know why I posses this terrible ability, but I do. Every time I voice my opinion on what team I want to proceed to the next round, they’re out. The Panthers, Penguins, Blackhawks and now you guys. I wanted wins from each of these teams, and now they’re out. All of them. If I even think a positive thought about a team, they lose.

And I’m afraid I have brought this same curse to you. I thought maybe the curse didn’t cross over to hockey since you made it out of the first round verse the Red Wings. But no. The day I shelled out the cash for a Craig Smith jersey a dark cloud fell over the Bridgestone Arena, you guys were doomed from that moment. I claimed allegiance to you, and for that I am sorry. You will never, ever win a Stanley Cup no matter how much you, me, and everyone in Nashville wants it. I ruin teams. I apparently carry bad sports karma with me wherever I go. The hockey gods hate me. And for that I am sorry. Because of me, you are cursed to never win Lord Stanley’s Cup. I could pretend to not like you anymore so maybe you’d have a chance at winning, but we all know that wouldn’t work. As long as my heart still says Preds, you will not succeed.

I completely understand if you want to murder me. I would if I were you. But who knows, maybe next year is your year*

I guess for now I’ll just refocus my energy elsewhere. I’m kind of hoping the Capitals make it to the end, so they’ll probably lose tomorrow night.

Until next year,
Amanda aka, A Sports Teams Worst Nightmare.

PS. When all of your Unrestricted Free Agents leave this summer, that one’s on me too. Again, so sorry.

PPS. I was rooting for the Flyers tonight. Guess what happened. Yep. They’re done for the season, headed out to the links for a game of golf tomorrow. Aaaand, it’s all my fault.

PPPS. Yep. I took out the Capitals too. Just as I expected.

*Since I just said that, it definitely won’t be.

“Hockey Fights Are Good For Your Health”, Declared The Amanda

I’ve been watching a lot of hockey recently. Shocking, I know. But, you know what, it’s the playoffs, so get off my back. Everyone is watching hockey right now. I’m not crazy, okay? So now that we’ve got that awkward incident behind us, let’s get to the real juicy stuff…hockey fights are great.


I’m not really a violent person, but I really like it when there are fights in hockey. Everyone does. Even non-hockey fans. These altercations are kind of a big deal. They often start because of simple inconveniences like, “Hey, I want to skate over there, but that guy is in my way! I’ll just slam him into the wall! There. DONE!” Then the person who got slammed into the wall retaliates and slams the original ‘slammer’ into another wall. Sticks hit the ice, the gloves come off, and voila, good old-fashioned fisticuffs are had. Each party goes to their specified timeout box* and 5 minutes later they emerge and the air is clear. No longer are they angry about being pushed into a wall. They’ve completely forgotten about that irritating little incident that led to their fight and they just get back to playing hockey. That is, until they get shoved into a wall again, then the whole process starts again, but let’s just pretend that doesn’t happen, okay? Thanks.

It is no secret that I hate people. They are the worst. Sometimes I just want to punch them. So I started thinking, maybe I wouldn’t hate people as much if I could hockey fight them when they annoy me. It seems to work for hockey players. And that’s exactly what I’m going to do. Instead of getting irritated and allowing the anger and rage to eat away at my soul, I’m going to do the healthy thing:

I’m going shove people into walls and then punch them in the face repeatedly.

It’s a brilliant plan. If someone nearly runs me down with a shopping cart in Walmart. I’ll just shove them into the boxes of Moon Pies. They’ll push me into the Tastykakes. I drop my shampoo right there and we have it out. 30 seconds later, we’re done. We both head off in our separate directions never to speak of it again.

If I’m driving to work, and the person behind me thinks I’m driving too slow and is therefore tailgating me, I’ll just slam on my brakes and jump out of my car. Fisticuffs will happen. Then we’ll get in our respective cars. I go on to work, granted I have a bloody nose, but a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders and I no longer hate the tailgater.

Logical right? and I’m almost sure that I won’t get in legal trouble for this. Especially if I explain to law enforcement that I’m simply implementing hockey fight rules into every day life. They’ll totally understand. Definitely…maybe….probably not, but it’s worth a shot. No one ever got anywhere by not trying right?

And hey, if physical violence isn’t your thing, go D2: The Mighty Ducks style and just pull their shirt up over their head, rendering them momentarily blind. It’ll make you feel better and make them look a fool.

*Some might call these penalty boxes. Those people are not Amanda.

Amanda’s Top 10 Hockey Names (Because The World Needs to Know)

Hey there guys!

How’s it going?

Good?

Ya?

That’s so great to hear! So anyway, guess what this post is about!

Nope, not puppies.

Uh uh. Not my world famous cheese quesadilla recipe.

Oh, no. It is certainly not about my world travels.

That’s right! It’s about hockey! Are you guys shocked? Surprised? Neither? Ok, well I should have seen that coming, especially since the word hockey is in the title just a few inches away up there.

But guys! There are so many great names in the sport of hockey and I need to world to know about them!

And that is precisely why I have come up with my top 10 greatest hockey names ever. (and by ever, I mean currently playing. So don’t get all cranky because I don’t choose Mario Lemieux)

In my little world, in order for a person to have a great hockey name it has to posses at least one of these key qualities:
1. I must not be able to pronounce the name correctly on my first try.
2. The name has double letters (aa, bb, cc, etc.)
3. The name appears to be missing letters and/or short on vowels.
4. It just sounds like a hockey name (I have no concrete explanation for why something sounds like a hockey name, it just happens)
5. It makes me giggle a little bit when I hear it.

Craig Smith – Nashville Predators
Pronounced, Jar-ig, Smit-le. Ha. Just kidding guys. It’s just Craig Smith. Pronounced Craig Smith.  This is the most boring hockey name that has ever existed, ever, in the history of ever. Got ya guys didn’t I? I’m really hilarious.

Ok, but for real here they are, in no particular order:

Harry Zolnierczyk – Philadelphia Flyers
No matter how many times I hear this man’s name pronnounced, I still have no idea how to say it. Zol-ner-zik? Zo-LA-neer-chick? Zolajkjeiakdlkljakjwejfgn? I have no idea. I can prounounce Harry though. That one’s easy.

Zbyněk Michálek – Pittsburgh Penguins
First of all, this one has diacritical marks on it. that’s not even fair. I’m a midwestern American girl. I have no idea what those mean, so ya I have no chance of getting this one right. Plus there is literally one vowel in his first name. And it’s got a mark on it. Z-by-neck? Zeb-nek? ZEEEBY-nik? I don’t know. I don’t even try on this one.

Roman Josi – Nashville Predators
Roman. Yo-see. Yo! See! Can’t even be mad at that name. No way he can be anything in life, except a hockey player. “I’m here to see Dr. Josi.” Nope, not working. “Josi scores!!” Perfect.

Byron Bitz – Vancouver Canucks
This one, well, this one is just a solid hockey name. “Bitz shoots and it’s good!” “The penalty goes to Bitz.” “Bitz won the faceoff.” It just fits in the hockey world. It just does.

Cal Clutterbuck – Minnesota Wild
Clutterbuck. Enough said. So perfect! Plus the guy can grow the beard of a Norse god. A necessity in the hockey world. Ever heard of playoff beards?

José Theodore – Florida Panthers
I love this one simply because while I see the name HO-say, his name is actually JOE-zay. Those darn diacritical marks strike again. Only in a sport filled with Europeans would this happen…except he’s Canadian. Well, whatever, dude’s a dreamboat.

Dustin Byfuglien – Winnipeg Jets
Yep. Byfuglien. Just that. By-fug-lien. Hilarious. I don’t care what you say wikipedia, it’s not prounuced by-foo-glee-an. He will always by By-Fug-Len, to me. And I like it that way. He just looks like a Byfuglien.

Radim Vrbata –  Phoenix Coyotes
Every single time I see this guy’s name I can’t help but think someone forgot to put the rest of the letters in it. Something is missing and he is being punk’d. It just doesn’t look right. Plus what is it? Ver-bada? I don’t know.

Pekka Rinne – Nashville Predators
Really, did you guys not see this one coming? Double letters in both first and last name. Um, yep. Plus the guy is a dreamboat. A TOTAL DREAMBOAT!
Anyone named Alexander – Every Hockey Team Ever
Radulov, Ovechkin, Semin, I don’t care. Alexander combined with anything is a great hockey name. And if your name is Alexander, you just look like a hockey player. Fact. Plus the name always looks like it’s missing a letter at the end. I want a silent “e” there or something. It looks unbalanced. My OCD wants closure on that name.

 

There.

Now you can all rest peacefully tonight knowing which players I think have the best names in all of hockey. You are so very welcome.

Sidney Crosby! What Will You Do With All Your Free Time?

[Disclaimer: This is about hockey….again. I’m so sorry. I have a serious issue. If you hate hockey, I apologize, but hey look on the bright side, hockey will be over in June and then we can focus on the Olympics.]

Hey there Sid.

Why do you look so sad? This doesn’t have anything to do with you and your Penguins not advancing to the second round of the NHL playoffs does it?

It does?

You’re kinda bummed about it?

Really bummed actually?

You really, really hate the Flyers now?

Well, to be fair Sid, you’ve only beat them in your brand spankin’ new Consol Energy Center like twice. Ever. That’s a pretty terrible statistic. You should be good at winning at home. Most teams are. However you guys seem to choke at home. Why do you do that? What is wrong with you?

Although you are really good at beating teams that aren’t the Flyers, so that’s neat. You even beat my Nashville Predators. BTW: I’m still a little PO’d about that SIDNEY. Why’d ya do that??

I seem to have digressed a little though. We’re focusing on the fact that you lost in the first round of the playoffs, crushing my dreams of a Predators – Penguins championship. But who needs a 2nd Stanley Cup victory anyways? That’s just selfish of you to not share that joy with the other 29 teams.

So chin up grumpy gills!! You have so much more free time now, with all that pesky hockey out of the way. You can do so many activities!

Because I like you, I’ve taken the time to come up with some suggestions as to how you can spend your summer now that hockey is no longer an option. You’re very welcome.

Go to the zoo. Look at the real penguins. They’re super precious and they’ll make you forget all your woes of being a loser. (not a loser at life, just hockey)

Become a weather man. You have a weatherman face. I can’t explain it. It could be your nose, I don’t know. You just look like a weatherman to me. Plus, you’ve already got the wardrobe for it.
Take anger management classes. Then you won’t want to fight Claude Giroux next season. My poor little heart can’t handle it when you two fight. I love you both too much.

Buy a goat. Name it Sidney Jr. and call it Sid the Kid for short. HILARIOUS! (Get it Sid. Baby goats are called kids. People call you Sid the kid. I’m the best aren’t I?)

Come visit me! We’ll do lunch. What do you like? Chicken? I can cook chicken. That’s pretty much it though. And hot pockets. I can cook hot pockets.

Take up the guitar. Girls love a dude who can play guitar. They also love a dude who plays hockey. A hockey player who plays guitar? ARE YOU KIDDING ME? YES PLEASE!

Cry. Just let it all out Sid. No one will know, plus everyone who hates you already calls you Cindy Crysby. (People are not very clever apparently) Just let the tears flow. Once they do you can let go of your depression from losing and move on. I won’t tell anyone that you cried.

Come visit me again. I cannot stress this enough. You should come visit me. I am a good time. Plus I live in Nashville. We’ve got lots of guitars here. You could knock out that learn to play guitar thing as well.

Write an apology letter to Claude Giroux and Jakub Voracek. You were very rude to them. If you need a refresher, go here to our previous conversation: Sid, are you a child?

And finally, again, I cannot stress this one enough. Come and visit me. We’ll hang. And you know, if we fell in love and got married that’d be cool too. Then you can support me with your millions and I can sit at home and watch hockey for the rest of my life. Plus we could also go to some hockey games while you’re here, because the Nashville Predators are still in the playoffs. They don’t suck.

You just let me know whenever you want to come visit me. My schedule is pretty open.*

*This is because all I do is watch hockey and write letters to people who will never, ever see them. I’m insane aren’t I?

Amanda’s Guide to Playoff Hockey

I talk about hockey a lot, it’s kind of my thing. But let’s be real, I don’t have a lot going for me right now, so pretty much the NHL Playoffs are all I have. It’s cool though guys. Don’t worry about me. I’m not a sad sack or anything.*

But it also occurs to me that most people do not care nearly as much as I do. But I’d like everyone to because then I wouldn’t be alone in my excitement. So in an effort to bring all of you over to my side I’ve prepared this handy guide to the NHL playoffs. Just follow along and you’ll go far.

Amanda’s Simple Guide to the Stanley Cup Playoffs

You are allowed allegiance to one Western conference team and one Eastern conference team. Example: Amanda’s Western Conference Team: Nashville Predators. Amanda’s Eastern Conference Team: Pittsburgh Penguins

It is perfectly okay for all productive activities in your life to cease during the playoffs. The NHL wants you watch all the games. That’s why the show them all on tv. You don’t even have to feel like a slug for never leaving your couch. It’s totally cool.

If the hockey gods are against you and your chosen teams gets knocked out of the playoffs you are allowed to choose a replacement to fill the void. Example: Amanda’s Western conference second choice: Phoenix Coyotes. Eastern conference: Florida Panthers. Although I do not plan on needing to utilize my second choices.

If you enjoy a player on an opposing team you are not allowed to verbally admit it. Example: Claude Giroux is really great and has a red beard, but he plays for the Flyers. I cannot admit I like him because I want the Penguins to win, therefore Claude is the enemy.

While playoff beards can occasionally become disgusting we are not allowed to complain about them. They provide some sort of magical powers. Example: Kevin Klein. Dude had exactly 4 goals in 66 regular season games. He now has 2 goals in 5 playoff games. Fluke? No. Playoff beard power? Absolutely.

That’s some serious beard power

If you go to the bathroom while the puck is in play, someone will score. This is a fact proven by me. So don’t go to the bathroom, unless you like missing out on game changing moments.

It’s perfectly natural to jump around and celebrate a game winning shot even if you are alone in your living room with only a dog. Not that I’ve ever done this. That would be super weird.**

Despite the fact that Sidney Crosby‘s lips look plump enough to use as a pillow for sleeping, don’t say it out loud. Especially around males. They will think you are crazy. Again, I’ve never done this.***

Seriously, those things are plump

If you spend your hard-earned cash on playoff tickets, your team will lose that game. So that sucks, but you’ll probably still spend your money anyway just for a chance at a taste of that playoff atmosphere.

Goaltenders are weird. They just are. Don’t blame losses on them. They will take it super personally and proceed to lose 3 games in a row. Example: Marc Andre-Fleury‘s super choke at the beginning of the playoffs.

Do not NOT wear your lucky socks. You cannot afford taking a chance with the hockey gods at this point in the season. Your socks may be the only thing allowing your team to win. You don’t want to have to shoulder the blame of a loss just because you were too arrogant to wear your lucky turkey socks.

It’s absolutely okay to slam Henrik Zetterberg’s head into glass if you are Shea Weber. You will not get suspended. Totally cool. I’m a Shea Weber fan, but the guy should not have done this. Hockey gods were on his side obviously.

And finally, you can totally cry when your team doesn’t win the Stanley Cup. I won’t even make fun of you.

Editors Note: The Penguins are out. Let’s go Panthers! (Mostly just this guy. Gotta love Ol’ No-Chin Smithson)

Jerred Smithson

*Ya, I am.
**Guys I’ve done this. Several times.
***I absolutely have.

Seriously. Where Are You Keeping Your Catfish?

Hockey is sport full of very strange traditions. There’s the whole drinking champagne out of a giant shiny cup, using the same jockstrap since juniors (I’m talking about you Sidney Crosby. You’re disgusting) and not using a razor once the playoffs begin. And then we have the incredibly strange playoff tradition of throwing sea-life onto the ice rink after your particular team scores.


Visit Joe Louis Arena in Detroit Michigan around the beginning of April. Wait until the Red Wings score a goal and the strangest thing will happen. An octopus will fly out of the crowd onto the ice. Then take a trip south to Bridgestone Arena in Nashville Tennessee. When the Predators score, a big fat catfish will just miraculous fall on the ice. And in both places a poor ice girl will be given the task of picking up the slimy creature with her bare hands and retrieving it. The crowd gets really pumped up when these sea creatures grace us with their presence. I have nothing against throwing ocean dwelling creatures on ice. In fact, I get pretty pumped up about it myself, mostly because it means my Preds have scored, but it does lead me to beg the question:

Sea Creature Throwers, how in the heck are you storing these things?

A hockey game is at least an hour and forty minutes in length. You’ve got 3 twenty minute periods with the two twenty minute intermissions in between. But then you’ve got fights that happen. Then they have to stop the clock. And then people score and the clock stops. Pucks go into the crowd. Stop the clock. Basically a game is always going to be much longer than an hour and forty minutes. Meaning you people who wait until the 3rd period to throw your catfish are storing raw meat somewhere on your person for approximately an hour and half. And we’re not talking small catfish. We’re talking real big catfish. the kind you would mount on a wall. There’s no hiding these things.

Now see, I’m a girl. I have a purse. When I go to games the people at the door want to look in my purse to make sure I have no illegal paraphernalia. I’m 110% positive that if there was a catfish or an octopus in my purse, they would notice it. And I’m more than 110% positive that if I had an ice chest preserving my seafood, they would really notice.

Are you just carryng these things in, in plain sight? Because I’m pretty sure the PA Announcer always tells me to refrain from throwing things onto the ice. Do you just explain yourself to the security at the front door. “Oh this catifsh? No. I’m not going to throw it. I only eat seafood. This is my dinner.” They’re not falling for this. They know what you’re doing with that thing.

Obviously the most logical theory is that you have this thing strapped to you in some fashion. You saran wrap that sucker to your calf don’t you? If you wear baggy enough clothing you’re golden. No one’s going to know you’ve got a fish in your pants. But that leads me to another question.

Is it not uncomfortable having a 10 pound catfish strapped to your leg for 2 periods of hockey?

It has to be getting a little stinky at that point in the game. Do the people sitting next to you not object to your odor? I know the Predators and even the Red Wings score in the first period a lot. Why don’t you just throw it then? Why do you wait until the 3rd period? That’s a strange thing. Unless….is there only one person throwing all the catfish and octopi? Are you storing more than one fish on your body and throwing one for every goal? That is some serious dedication.

So I guess, in retrospect, I don’t think you’re crazy anymore. I admire your loyalty in supporting your teams goals with sea life. Obviously it’s not easy to keep those catfish and octopuses hidden from security. And alienating those around you with your smell, well that’s just a big commitment. I applaud you, you seafood thrower. As it turns out you are a better fan than me.