Game 4

Part 1: Our boys have all grown up.

Unable to secure companionship for the night, I make my lonely way down to the Key Arena, where the “next Generation of T-Birds Hockey” is scheduled to take on the Vancouver Giants. While not a Division rival, the Giants are the next best thing, a team close enough to use for a train ride, and not too far away that Vancouver fans cannot drive down for a game. From Casa de Strand, there is neither a train, nor a direct bus to Seattle center, but the 66 does stop right at Westlake, from whence I can take the Monorail, and arrive in style.

If it was running, that is. Our beloved dinosaur of transportation is down for the count, and unlikely to start back up anytime soon. This though was at the back of my mind, but returned to the fore after I climbed three flights of stairs. Luckily, there was a sign at the top informing me of the change in plans, and a urine-soaked elevator to return me to ground level.

After I can breathe again, I look for the promised shuttle to Seattle Center. Nothing, nothing, and….none. I (correctly) theorize that had I stayed on the 66, I could have grabbed a bus on 3rd avenue that would take me straight up. So, I drag these aching bones down two blocks, looking for a northbound bus. The first kiosk I come to informs me that it will be a 16 minute wait until the timed stop further south.

Years of living in the U-District have taught me that if the bus is more than 15 minutes away, you are better of walking. So, my aching knees and I start up the street, overtaking another rapid-perambulator along the way. I have been accused of power walking of late, and that I walk too fast for others to keep up. This is not my intent, merely a byproduct of my particular physical and mental states.

If I need to get somewhere, I’m going to get there. I hate being late, but I’m not particularly concerned about being on time. But if my timetable gets upset, I prefer to move just a little faster to get back on track. Not speeding, not running (ever), just a little faster. As a man who used to walk 6 miles to work (yes, in the snow), and bicycle 20-40 miles just for fun, I’m not afraid of a little physical exertion.

Unfortunately, the body gets older than the will, and at a faster rate. My knees are shot, and are in constant pain. This limits the physical activities I engage in for pleasure, but does not eliminate them. Therefore, I am capable of extended activity, but it hurts like hell.

Like tonight. Knees and shins screaming, I amble into Seattle Center 4 minutes ahead of the timed stop. Not too bad for a broke old man. But as I’m walking down my heart rate, this little kid tries to race me. Silly kid. I pick up the pace again, and leave him stumbling in my wake. Finally, an TM comes into sight. If the proper model of ATM had been present when I started my walk downtown, I’d have hopped a cab. But, although for the first time in a long time, I’ve got a real paycheck in the bank, It was also directly deposited, leaving me short on cash.

That gets fixed fast, and shortly thereafter, I’m in line for concessions, with my ticket in hand.

Since I’m flying solo tonight, I decide to go a little crazy, and get as close down to the glass as I can. It’s not the best of seating choices for hockey, but not the worst, either. I end up one row behind the glass, behind the Giants bench. The row is mostly empty when I arrive, giving me room to spread out. This is important, because I take up a lot of room.

And because there really isn’t a lot of room available. The Key was built in a more enlightened age, when the average size of a sports fan was indeed XL, and not L. But over the years, the management of the Arena has decided to “narrow” the seats, adding one or two to each row in order to maximize their attendance dollar.

Unlike the airlines, the Key Arena is unlikely to sell out every flight. Save for Championship basketball games (and we all know how rare those are) and Opening nights, there are usually plenty of seats left, even with the new seating arrangements.

For the last few years, I’ve been attending with friends, which usually meant that I was up above it, where seats were both plentiful and spacious.

But now, I’m down in it. And this is a game I’ll not forget soon.

Part 2: The Kids are alright

And sitting right next to me. Easing into my seat before the puck, I note that there is a gaggle (or is it giggle) of teenage girls to my right. Lucky for me, there are seats to the left, so I am not placed in close physical contact with a possible jail sentence.

Further (passive) examination reveals that the girls are painted up in Giants colors, as if this were a high scool football game. What little hearing I have left picks out that one of the girls is dating one of the giants, who happens to hail from Marysville, WA, U.S.A. Having dated someone (twice) from that bustling metropolis, I can understand the transfer of affection. But it’s somewhat icky to watch these girls drool over all of them, until I remember all the Everett Aquasox players ogling High School Drill teams a few years back.

Boys will be boys, Girls will be girls. What a world.

I, of course, am dating no one on the T-birds roster. Which leaves me free to converse with the grown-ups behind me, who happen to be real Canadians, who actually know the rules of Hockey.

Sorry girls, but, “I’m dating that guy over there” does not make you a hockey expert, any more than dating me made my ex a Game Designer.

And even though they now have cheerleaders, the Giants fall under the oppressive thumb of the T-Birds.

Just like everybody else.

Seattle is currently avenging its last place status from early 04, with a vengeance. Hopefully, this “win when Bhagwan is present” philosophy will carry over to tomorrow night, as well as the high scoring, crisp passing, and good hockey I saw tonight.

Lord knows, this town needs it.