I will never claim to be psychic. I cannot see into the future, but it doesn't require a clairvoyant to see that the NHL will start its fourth lockout in a matter of hours. I have to admit, this is a bit depressing. I love the sport of hockey. I might have come late in life to this deep, heartfelt appreciation, but it is with me now. I take the first Pens game of the season off from work. I rearranged my schedule to watch the Kings win the Stanley Cup. I buy temporary tattoos to wear when I'm really in need of a pick me up. There is no reasoning with it, it is love, plain and simple, and that love is about to be tested.
Among other things that I love with the same sort of passion: the New Orleans Saints, equestrian sports, and the Tour de France. I'll admit to being able to branch out when it comes to equestrian. I am a primarily English rider who specializes in dressage, but that doesn't mean I don't appreciate pole bending. Heck, I took my 16.3 Thoroughbred mare to a gaming show and we placed in everything except key hole, where she dumped me in living terror of just what might be hiding in the middle of those poles. As for cycling, despite the doping scandals that continue to rock it, I haven't given up hope. I still love watching the sheer grit that is required to make it through. I admire the talent of a mountain climber, and the heart of a domestique. I have taken to following the sport on a broader stage for the simple reason of lockouts.
When the NFL went into a lockout last year, I couldn't quite accept it. Then I went to Europe for two months and became fascinated by more than my narrow little world. It wasn't until September arrived that I began to feel the depression start to sink in. True, the lockout was ended before the season really began (preseason will forever be epitomized for me by that NFL network commercial: "I don't care that it's preseason, the Raiders are 4-0!" "Yeah Raiders!") but it still left a sour taste in my mouth. Add that on to the fact that the team of my football loving heart lost to the 49ers, with me screaming for two straight minutes: "Defense, don't give up the big play over the center!" to no avail. Then there was the Super Bowl. NY Giants fan I will never, ever be and as my dad is a Pats fan, so, too, am I. As if things couldn't get any worse, the Saints had Bountygate fall on their heads in the midst of playing some craven game of chicken with the heart and soul of their team, my favorite player in the sport: Drew Brees. The season kicked off last week. I missed the game. I even missed the Saints lose to the freaking Washington Redskins. Monday night, I was working and had no desire to rearrange my schedule for either game. This Thursday, it came as a surprise that there was a game at all. This Sunday? Who knows, but the passion is all but gone.
And so this is where I sit with hockey. If they push this bunch of horseradish (love this new phrase I found yesterday. Sorry to whoever coined it, I don't remember where I read it) on into the season, I'm afraid my love and devotion will be tested. I am genuinely concerned I will come away as jaded and apathetic as I am about football. I hope it isn't so, but that doesn't stop the fear, and the only way to keep the fear from being a reality? To have a season, and quickly.
BlytheLea
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