Monday, April 21, 2008
Southern Girl With Hockey Fever
...Some like it hot. I like it ice cold....
Sunday night, my Dallas Stars, ended any potential repeat Stanley Cup victory for the Anaheim Ducks. As one of my closest 18,351 friends' sign proclaimed, "Duck Season Ends Tonight" and it did. For the first time since 2003, the Stars advanced past Round 1 of the playoffs.
So, how did a Texan fall in love with hockey? It goes back many years, when I first moved to Texas. I attended my first hockey game, the CHL's Dallas Blackhawks. I was at one game during their final season prior to the league ultimately folding, I was 15. DFW was sans hockey until 1992, when the CHL was reborn. I attended a few Fort Worth Fire games. Then in 1993, the Minnesota North Stars relocated to Dallas.
The NHL in Dallas? Are you kidding me? This is a football town. It still is. Football is king in Texas for most folks (and I enjoy watching it). But it doesn't rule this gal. I'll take hockey any day of the week.
I'm not sure what it is about hockey that strikes a resounding chord. I'm not from up north where hockey rules. I can't ice skate to save my life. I didn't attend a college where hockey was part of the extra-curricular activities. I've never dated anyone who likes hockey. How is it that I am a season ticket holder, for three years running?
Maybe its "man in uniform" syndrome. 'Cause I will tell you there is something really hot about a guy in a hockey sweater, pants and skates. Perhaps it is the players' ability to stop on a dime or reverse direction instantaneously. It could be a myriad of other things: the "shush" sound of skates on ice, the crack of a slap shot, the grunt of a check, the ping of the puck hitting the pipes, the roar of the crowd, the amazing bendablity of the net-minder, the athleticism of every guy on the ice.
Or maybe is just the fact that hockey is all-go-no-stop, check you until it hurts, blue line, center ice, face off, shoot out, fighting, agitating, in your face action.
Whatever it is, this chick LOVES every single minute of it.
Random Jumbled Thoughts by Indie67