Now Playing: Blues Traveler – Live From the Fall
Hello, hockey fans! We are mere hours away from what most of us consider the best, and simultaneously most agonizing time of the year: the Stanley Cup Playoffs. This is where the best of the best in the NHL put it all on the line for sport’s holiest of grails, and it seems that few of them leave anything to chance. Athletes as a group are renowned for their superstitious nature, and it’s widely known that hockey players are the most neurotic subset by a long shot. Many believe that crossed sticks on a locker room floor is cause for finding the nearest priest to exorcise the demons. Also, a tap on the goalie’s pads in warm-ups was a sure sign of an impending shutout. Those are mild compared to some of the particular head-games played by some of the greats: Wayne Gretzky refused to get a haircut on road trips; Petr Klima would break his stick after every goal, as he believed each stick only possessed one; and Chicago Blackhawks goalies Glenn Hall and Darren Pang suffered anxiety so great they would “re-gift” their previous meals in between the pregame skate and puck drop.
Mmmm... goal shots.
Those make up just the tip of the iceberg of the various neuroses exhibited by hockey’s finest, and as many of us know, these things are ingrained at a young age. Many of hockey’s biggest fans are also former and sometimes current players, thus, many possess the same quirky personalities and idiosyncrasies when it comes to spurring their team(s) on to victory. This leads me to the one and only reason this time of year depresses me: I can’t grow a playoff beard or even a lousy mustache to save my life. I gave it my best shot when I was laid up after surgery last year, and five long weeks didn’t even net me a patchy, 5th-grade, Sidney Crosby-esque molestache. Now, this is a matter that is beyond my control, as a childhood accident resulted in some scar tissue preventing me from being able to rock anything more than a pathetic growth of chin-pubes. But I do revel in all other types of superstitions and rituals to make up for it. I polled some friends, co-workers, and the rest of the View From My Seats staff as to their rituals and superstitions, and I must say, I run with a weird, weird crowd. It was pretty much unanimous with the males regarding the playoff beards, but I also got several “I don’t wash this until they win/lose/get eliminated” responses, all of which led me to ask the responders absolutely zero further questions and proceed to buy them a gift card to http://www.laundrymoney.com. There were, however, several other common themes in the different rituals and superstitions that my fellow hockey fans engage in to guarantee success for their favorite team on the ice:
- Alcohol is pretty much universal. Hockey, in its infinite greatness, constantly has us on the edge of our seats, and during the playoffs, that intensity is magnified one hundred fold. This has led hockey fans to be some of the most well-versed at taking the edge off with an adult beverage (or 10). It seems that while the drink of choice may differ from person to person, the one thing that remains constant is the amount: a lot. Carlos has the same beer vendor that he uses when his New Jersey Devils are on a roll. Keith, who is obviously the high roller in our group, switches to premium beer with a whiskey back when his Los Angeles Kings‘ backs are against the wall, in the belief that as his team’s offensive output is in direct correlation to the escalation of his bar tab. Myself, I have a dangerous one. When I’m at my favorite local tap (Kasey’s, South Loop for those of you within striking distance), I knock back bottle after bottle of good honest beers at a tasty price. Whenever the Blackhawks find the back of the net, I exchange knowing glances with my tap jockey and he or she brings me my “goalshot” of Jameson. Had I foreseen the Hawks lighting the lamp 262 times this year (including 17 games with 5 tallies or more), I may have signed up to be a liver donor recipient much sooner.
- Another recurring motif in game-day conventions is gear. Everyone seems to have a set wardrobe that is usually non-negotiable. I have my Blackhawks letter jacket, Patrick Sharp sweater, fitted Hawks hat, jeans with a mustard and an ink stain (they’re washed, but those stains are set in stone), and USA hockey shirt underneath. In my pockets I have the poker chip from Shea’s Casino in Vegas where I got my first tattoo, lucky guitar pick, and my official Blackhawks game puck. I think my favorite answer came from CJ, who wears her ’72 Derek Sanderson sweater, enters at the same gate, and buys her 50/50 raffle tickets from the same Shriners at every Boston Bruins game she attends.
Ryan and Co.
- The most intriguing conclusion I’ve drawn from my research is that every single one of us, to a man (and woman) believes with the conviction of a late-night televangelist that what we drink, do, and wear has a direct result on the performance of our favorite team or teams. However, if things aren’t working, the recognition that a change may be in order is not lost on anyone. If things start going south for the Devils in two consecutive contests, Carlos has no qualms about telling his favorite beer baron to hit the bricks, and even changing his jersey of choice in hopes of stemming the losing tide. Matt, our fearless leader, is not even above changing shirts mid-game if things aren’t going the way he and the rest of the Kings’ faithful would like (a tendency which presents an interesting dilemma when he attends games at the Staples Center as opposed to watching them at home).
Now these customs are by no means exclusive to the playoffs, but with the recent increased interest in fan participation in “Beard-a-thons” leaving some of us feeling a bit left out, I thought it important to highlight some of the other ways in which those of us challenged in the facial hair department show our devotion. How about the rest of you? I know you all have ways in which you contribute to each and every win, let’s hear them!
You can find me regularly at NHLHotstove.com and ryanhackett.wordpress.com… What can I say? I am The Prescient One.
