Sorry I haven’t reported in with my at-the-game antics from last Friday’s BoC-inaugural Kings-Ducks matchup, but I was pretty drunk while at the game, and was cut off from my computer for the weekend.
At any rate, my three highlights from the game (aside from anything really on the ice) were:
1. Meeting Girl with a puck after the game and impressing her with my slurred speech and general tallness
Now I got it easy sitting up front three games a year and yelling at players and all, but she’s a real dedicated Duck fan-blogger. If I’m not mistaken, she was in the very last row of Honda Center Friday night yelling at passing planes. In fact, stop reading my site and go see how a real fan feels.
She could not, however, produce an actual puck upon request. She had good enough excuses (“It’s in my purse, which is in the car”), but I’ve still got my doubts as to the validity of her blogger name.
Then again, my name’s not really Earl Sleek, so I guess I’m fucking bullshit (see below).
2. Sitting one row back and a few seats over from baseball scandal legend Mark McGwire.
I’m very bad with sports that don’t rhyme with “bockey”, but even I know the Big Mac when I see him (not to be confused with Andy Mac). As my photo-shooting friend Damndaze learned during an intermission “chat”, Big Mac was in the house to support his St. Louis buddy Chris Pronger, and to sip his beer and enjoy the strange ice-sport before his eyes.
Hey, maybe the guy is a hockey fan. He never really seemed distracted or disinterested, but I strongly suggest his front-row presence and his Pronger jersey had more to do with a personal invitation than, say, an interest in the sport or the team.
I even got in on a shot with him, though (mostly because it’s a bad shot and I've still got a day job) I’m maintaining Eklund-level anonymity at this point.
So that was cool, but I’m stalling. For me, these things paled in comparison to…
3. Teemu shocks us all with his dirty diving mouth
Now I didn’t really see the play very well where he got called, but once we heard it was a diving call, we naturally tried to cheer up our good buddy Teemu. “Baloney call!”, “No way, ref!”, and things like that.
But then Teemu (who I think wasn’t drinking) decided to take it up a notch.
I shit you not. God’s honest truth. E5. Not under his breath, either; he belted it.
Don’t get me wrong. I see plenty of swearing in the box, and I’ve been admonished by security about controlling my own beer-inspired tongue, but I've never heard a dirty peep from Teemu. Teemu's a nun with a wicked wrist shot.
Here’s a list of things I would expect to say “fucking bullshit” before Teemu would: a newborn baby, an unwatered plant, a passage in the bible, a freshly-lit cigarette.
You get the idea. We were fucking floored.
Our little Teemu is now an adult. Welcome to the twenty-first motherfucking century.