Oh yeah and how could I forget… this wouldn’t be a blog post unless I mentioned the blues in some way….so here we go
Best night of my life December 23, 2006…I had been bugging my dad for a while to get some blues tickets while I was going to be in town. Even though I went to the game with some friends earlier in the week, once was not enough! I begged and begged my pops to get some really great seats for the game against Buffalo, which I thought was a lost cause since well it’s my dad. But man oh man did that nagging ever payoff. My Dad, Sister and I arrived at the game about a half hour early only to wait in line for a chicken basket, hot dog, a burger, and some drinks. With our arms filled with over priced food we made our way to a small table and began to nibble away, when it happened. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a sharp dressed man walking towards me. I couldn’t help but to turn and look at the man wearing the silvery gray suit, which was more than slightly wrinkled. It was weird, my eyes slowly came into focus and my brain went into over drive. It was Blues forward Dallas Drake, a toothless, tough-guy, strolling through the arena clasping the hands of his two children. All I could do was blankly stare. I could hear my brain not telling, but yelling in my skull… “Dallas Drake that is DALLAS DRAKE!” I was frozen, just watching him walk away. I wish I could have come up with something good to say to him, but I am pretty sure that a mixture of fumbling words would have been the only thing that I could have produced. After he had past I resumed my consumption of my half of the chicken basket, wishing I had said something cool to “Dally.” Not to long after that my sister became wide-eyed and started to indicate something behind me was interesting. I turned and looked and there he was again striding across the floor, in a rush to meet up with a man with a mic in his ear…I didn’t want to try anything. I might have gotten roughed up by the man in the black suit.
After this encounter we headed to our seats. We went down, down, down to the fourth row, right behind the blues bench. Oh my good lord I could see and smell everything. I took the seat closest to the tunnel, and without hesitation I wrapped my hand around the cold railing and peered down the tunnel and into the Blues staging area. My heart was floating on cloud nine, this was an amazing moment. Soon those giant, skillful, rough, tough, toothless men would be making their way down the tunnel all geared up and ready to go. That night the blues were to face the Buffalo Sabers, one of the better teams in the league and a heck of a lot better than the Blues.
After warm ups the trainer collected all the stray pucks and made his way back into the staging area, but not before tossing a few pucks up to some of the little kids that surrounded the tunnel. I have to admit I felt a little childish stretching my hand out and begging for one of those practice used pucks. Who knows my favorite player probably took a shot on goal with that thing. So as the trained walked past me I out stretched my arm over the rail and yelled after him “how about a puck?” He turned round, looked me straight in the eye and probably noticed my old school throw back 1998 blues sweatshirt, (my 1.99 value village prize possession.) reached in his crate and pulled out a puck. In the blink of an eye it was in the air and heading straight at me. With gaping hands I felt the cold rubber meet my skin, my fingers curled around the edges and I held on for dear life, slightly with disbelief, I felt incredibly lucky.
At every intermission I stretched out my hand and reached for each player as they walked past. As I high-fived each of them my hand looked so minuscule to their glove clad hand, it was kind of funny. When the players made contact with my hand I couldn’t help but to show my further support, “way to go Weight, nice job out there Stemp, keep the hits coming Wideman, way to block those shots Legace.” I was proud to say that I knew every name of each of the guys out there and couldn’t have been more thrilled to watch them dominate the Buffalo Sabers. With an overtime win of 3-2, I left the Scottrade center elated, so incredibly happy that my Blues were getting back on tack and I got to high-five each of the guys I have been following ever since forever. Being in the arena was a thousand times better than listing to the games on my computer in studio. This one game made my December. I don’t know what it is in me but I just love St. Louis BLUUUUUUUUUUUES HOCKEY.
in Prague showing nothing but love for my home team, that sweatshirt has seen a lot.
Best night of my life December 23, 2006…I had been bugging my dad for a while to get some blues tickets while I was going to be in town. Even though I went to the game with some friends earlier in the week, once was not enough! I begged and begged my pops to get some really great seats for the game against Buffalo, which I thought was a lost cause since well it’s my dad. But man oh man did that nagging ever payoff. My Dad, Sister and I arrived at the game about a half hour early only to wait in line for a chicken basket, hot dog, a burger, and some drinks. With our arms filled with over priced food we made our way to a small table and began to nibble away, when it happened. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a sharp dressed man walking towards me. I couldn’t help but to turn and look at the man wearing the silvery gray suit, which was more than slightly wrinkled. It was weird, my eyes slowly came into focus and my brain went into over drive. It was Blues forward Dallas Drake, a toothless, tough-guy, strolling through the arena clasping the hands of his two children. All I could do was blankly stare. I could hear my brain not telling, but yelling in my skull… “Dallas Drake that is DALLAS DRAKE!” I was frozen, just watching him walk away. I wish I could have come up with something good to say to him, but I am pretty sure that a mixture of fumbling words would have been the only thing that I could have produced. After he had past I resumed my consumption of my half of the chicken basket, wishing I had said something cool to “Dally.” Not to long after that my sister became wide-eyed and started to indicate something behind me was interesting. I turned and looked and there he was again striding across the floor, in a rush to meet up with a man with a mic in his ear…I didn’t want to try anything. I might have gotten roughed up by the man in the black suit.
After this encounter we headed to our seats. We went down, down, down to the fourth row, right behind the blues bench. Oh my good lord I could see and smell everything. I took the seat closest to the tunnel, and without hesitation I wrapped my hand around the cold railing and peered down the tunnel and into the Blues staging area. My heart was floating on cloud nine, this was an amazing moment. Soon those giant, skillful, rough, tough, toothless men would be making their way down the tunnel all geared up and ready to go. That night the blues were to face the Buffalo Sabers, one of the better teams in the league and a heck of a lot better than the Blues.
After warm ups the trainer collected all the stray pucks and made his way back into the staging area, but not before tossing a few pucks up to some of the little kids that surrounded the tunnel. I have to admit I felt a little childish stretching my hand out and begging for one of those practice used pucks. Who knows my favorite player probably took a shot on goal with that thing. So as the trained walked past me I out stretched my arm over the rail and yelled after him “how about a puck?” He turned round, looked me straight in the eye and probably noticed my old school throw back 1998 blues sweatshirt, (my 1.99 value village prize possession.) reached in his crate and pulled out a puck. In the blink of an eye it was in the air and heading straight at me. With gaping hands I felt the cold rubber meet my skin, my fingers curled around the edges and I held on for dear life, slightly with disbelief, I felt incredibly lucky.
At every intermission I stretched out my hand and reached for each player as they walked past. As I high-fived each of them my hand looked so minuscule to their glove clad hand, it was kind of funny. When the players made contact with my hand I couldn’t help but to show my further support, “way to go Weight, nice job out there Stemp, keep the hits coming Wideman, way to block those shots Legace.” I was proud to say that I knew every name of each of the guys out there and couldn’t have been more thrilled to watch them dominate the Buffalo Sabers. With an overtime win of 3-2, I left the Scottrade center elated, so incredibly happy that my Blues were getting back on tack and I got to high-five each of the guys I have been following ever since forever. Being in the arena was a thousand times better than listing to the games on my computer in studio. This one game made my December. I don’t know what it is in me but I just love St. Louis BLUUUUUUUUUUUES HOCKEY.
posted by Lindihar at 3:32 PM
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