The Prom

“My girlfriend always has that feeling that something’s missing. She checks her pockets, checks her purse, counts her kids, but nothing’s gone. She decided it was side effects from not going to her prom.” – Iona, Pretty In Pink

iona2I stayed up till 1 a.m. on Wednesday night to finish the triple overtime thriller Stanley Cup Final game with the Boston Bruins and Chicago Blackhawks.

Did I mention that it was still just Game One?

True story.

Truth be told though, it was truly the first night that I realized…that the Rangers weren’t coming back this year.  I know that sounds pathetic.  But for a good two weeks after the blueshirts were eliminated, I kept feeling like I was missing something.  I’d checked my keys, they were still there.  I made sure I paid my bills on time. I double and even triple-checked my calendar.

But no, it was true.  The Rangers weren’t playing anymore in the 2013 season.

I had all but given up on hockey after the lockout that got rid of 2004-05.  I didn’t want to come back.  Plus, the Mets were good, and I had more than enough attention bestowed upon them, even in the offseason.  The Rangers didn’t deserve my attention, and neither did the rest of hockey.

So fuck ’em.

Till of course, the Mets collapsed in 2007.  Then what was I to do?  I needed another outlet.  I had gone from not feeling anything, to suddenly wanting to go to games again.  I went to three games that season.  I was back.

Last year was the first year I felt like this could be it, this could be OUR year.

Then there was another lockout, and a shortened season.  I tried to convince myself that this season, despite what happened, didn’t matter.  The Rangers could win, but now there would be ammo for that whole “half a cup” business we’ve been saying for years about the 1995 season.

And then…it mattered.

As opposed to the 2007-08 season when I returned to the Rangers, the Mets were still a competitive team.  A good team, even.  In the year 2013, I have no respite.  The Mets are simply awful, hard to watch and the games are ennui.  Yet, you’d think I’d be used to it, being a Mets fan for 30 years, since good years are few and far between.  I don’t feel the excitement I used to, going to games.

So I stay up and watch three OTs of playoff hockey, for two teams I don’t care much about.

Like Iona’s friend in Pretty In Pink, I didn’t go to my prom.  Yet, I never exhibited an absent-minded professor side effects that her friend did, in skipping mine. The only time I do that these days is when I was looking for a Ranger game that didn’t exist.

The closest thing I had to a prom was the Rangers winning the Stanley Cup in the summer of 1994, the year I graduated high school.  The amount of celebrating I did in honor that team lasted me a looooong time.  I was 18.  I was headed to college in the fall.  I would be on my own for the first time.  I didn’t give a shit about my prom.  I gave a shit about that Cup.

So I stay up till 1 a.m. (EST, 12 a.m. in Chicago, 10 p.m. in California) to watch a game that I wish my team was playing.  Guess I gave a shit after all about this year.

I do now know that the Rangers aren’t playing anymore this season, and that another year has gone by that my team is not in the big show, the Prom.

Once this series is over though, I’ll be able to watch the Rangers again in just a short few months.  Baseball season will be ending at that point, and I’ll probably be thankful that the Mets season is mercifully ending.

Till then, I’ll be searching for the keys, counting my kitties, and wondering if I’ve misplaced my phone.  But I do know that I didn’t go to my prom, and I chose hockey instead.

I’d still do it, almost 20 years later.

Son of Beech. Sheet. Shoot Out.

I hate shootouts.

If there’s one thing you need to know about me is that I really really dislike shootouts.  I say it every time on Twitter when I have to watch one on TV.  I attended one live a few weeks ago, and I’m just getting to it now, here.  BlondiesJake said that I may not like it, but if you’re a fan in the stands, you aren’t leaving till it’s over.

I guess he has a point.  I didn’t leave till it was over.  But I still hated every second of watching it.  But luckily, I was in good company, so it was worthwhile.

Back in December, at my annual joint birthday party with Dee, our friend AM came to celebrate with us.  I have to say, that I didn’t know AM very well prior to this night. In fact, I had only met her twice prior to this night, evidenced by these photos below.


But we had so much fun at the party, we wondered why we hadn’t hung out till then.  So it was settled: a few days later, we decided to go to the January 11th game against the Phoenix Coyotes at the Garden.

It was a pretty boring game.  It was scoreless most of the game, and went into overtime anyway.  The most exciting parts were when AM and I walked around, as she hadn’t yet been to the “new” Madison Square Garden yet.


Though we passed sausage stands and a kosher Mexican stand, AM wanted a pretzel, and we were having trouble finding them.  One of the beer guys was selling popcorn.  We asked if he knew where to get pretzels.  He shrugged, said, “They’re hard to come by on this level.”  They were right behind him.


We took a trip to the sky bar in the 400s, and we saw our boy Dancin’ Larry.  We got a dance from him later on too!  The biggest find of the night thought was AM finding the “Yoo-ling” beer.  (It’s an inside joke, let it go).


Up to the point of the shootout, the most exciting part of the night was seeing Mark Messier introduce the Pee Wee Rangers in between periods.


(And a shameless photo of us two girls)

But to get to the point of the shoot out.  My friend Rob and I have this saying when it comes to them.  “Son of beech.  Sheet.”  It’s from the movie “Stripes.”  Not one of my favorites, but a good quote from it.  But I kept saying it every time there was a shot on goal.  “Son of beech.  Sheet.”

To Jake’s point earlier, I know it keeps fans in seats, it’s not a “tie,” which is sort of boring.  But honestly, I guess I’m just old school.  Give me “Sudden Death,” or give me liberty.  Or something like that.  I guess I just feel like a season or a game should be decided on luck.  Then again, I guess one could argue that the game is predicated on that.  So there’s that.

I just don’t care for it.  Till the Rangers won one live.

There were tons of things that could have gone differently in the game.  But I guess that going with a new friend, and rooting for the Rangers, and seeing a Ranger win…there are worse things in life I suppose.  Like being a Jets fan.  Or a Mets fan.

Yeah.  Son of beech.  Sheet.

Go Rain-juhz.