I am not a complex individual. Some of my earliest memories involve bitter cold, sharp objects and contusions varying in degrees of seriousness. No, I am not talking about my initial decent into this world. I still to this day stand by the fact that I remember being born. Instead, I am talking about Hockey. I am addicted to Hockey. Plain and simple.
Let me quantify how much I enjoy the sport. These are my lifelong top priorities.
1. Not work
Before you go and chastise me for my apparent misappropriated ranking of Hockey in the number two slot, I believe it's worth noting that the less I work, the more Hockey I play. And rounding out with number three with "screw(ing)" is kind of a no-brainer.
For those of you new to the sport, let me give you the Cliff Notes version.
Hockey was first thought to be played in the 1500's. Although Canadians will vehemently defend otherwise, it wasn't invented in the Great North. Instead, most historians point toward the Europeans for its inception. It have also been suggested that the Irish paid a pivotal roll in the games formation, which to the amusement of everyone, would be the first and subsequent last useful contribution the Micks forged.
1. Frozen cow dung was used as a puck
2. The last helmet-less goalie played in 1974. Even a laymen could assert that a 6 ounce piece of hardened rubber penetrating your skull at 100 mph would most likely cause facial injury and possibly loss of sight and hearing. Such an act is considered wildy unsafe and reckless by today's standards, correct? Also considered unsafe and reckless and causing injuries eerily similar to the ones listed above, would be Peter Gabriel, who ironically started a solo career in 1974. Coincidence?
3. The Stanley Cup has been part of many a wild celebration. In fact, the cup had been found overnight in a channel after a drunken hockey club threw it there in the hours that proceeded the long evening of joyous festivities. It has also taken part in the the baptismal of children and it has made it's way onto tops of mountain, the white house, and Lenin's tomb. Word around the campfire is Stanley has made it to a titty bar or two. Stanley you dirty dawg you!
4. Steve Yzerman is God.
Some of my youngest child hood memories involve getting new skates for my birthday and then waiting for the lake to freeze. After the lake froze, the ole' man and I would shovel of a sizable surface suitable for play. Without fail, usually within hours, some asshole on a snowmobile would drive over the rink on a warm day rendering it damn near worthless. Really that part isn't important. Hockey is, was, and will be all I ever think about.
Here is some hot action of me in net. First, here is the obligatory clip of me getting owned on a high backhand.
I actually saved this backhand shot. That save brought my save percentage up to .200
Another homogenous save