Tonight I watched Newcastle United 3-0 Manchester United with my five-year-old son. When Phil Jones headed Newcastle’s last goal into United’s net (his own, that is) I pumped a fist, since United’s loss put Manchester City three points clear atop the Premier League (effectively four points, since City’s goal difference over United is plenary.) His reaction? “That sucks.” Immediately I went into “serious dad” mode, lecturing about bad language, fielding the typical arguments you get from children (“everyone else says it,”) emphasizing the need not to do substandard things just because everyone else does them. If you had been there, though, you would have seen me stifling a giggle, hard. Because while my son’s language was inappropriate, his analysis was incisive and spot-on – Jones’ play flat sucked, and only the BBC’s standards of commentary kept the color man on the broadcast from saying exactly that.
This afternoon I took my family to Citizens’ Bank Park for a high school hockey game. You read that right. The Hill School, in Pottstown, PA, was our home for four years and my wife’s employer for those same four years. Working in schools, as my wife has, makes her a member of several school “communities.” Community, as these private schools define it, is an extremely broad term that basically includes everyone involved in the past or present function of the school who was not asked to leave. So when the Hill posted a link on its website noting that it had been “invited” to play on the Winter Classic rink at CBP, and that it had in turn accepted the invitation and nominated its #1 rival, the Lawrenceville School, to oppose it, and oh-by-the-way, the Hill community is invited to attend the game and a postgame reception…they really did not need to ask me twice. Free parking, free game, free food? They really know how I tick. Hill trailed 2-0 through two periods on two short-handed goals. The third period was quickly passing by without incident, and it was still below-freezing in the old ballyard, and it sure felt like the game was a lost cause for the Blues. And then. With the goaltender pulled, Hill scored with 58 seconds left. Good for them, I thought, they did not get shut out hosting their own Winter Classic. The goalie came back in for the center ice faceoff, Hill pressed, Lawrenceville iced it, 18 seconds remained, Hill’s goalie was back on the bench. Offensive zone draw, Hill wins the faceoff, shot from the point, scrum, poke, SCORE! 2-2 with 2.8 seconds left. Mind you, Lawrenceville had two wins in eight games going into today, and Hill had two wins in sixteen (16!) games. No matter. To the shootout they went. Two rivals, living and dying with each one-on-one battle between breakaway shooter and lonesome netminder. A save, a score, a score, another save. Five shooters for each team, two goals for each team.
And then it was over.
“WHAT?” That was my reaction. “Why are they leaving the ice? Why are they shaking hands? Why are they taking team pictures? WHAT THE HELL JUST HAPPENED?” Here’s what happened: the schools had the ice reserved for two hours, from 2:00 to 4:00. And when the fifth Hill shooter, with the game on his forehand, was stoned by Lawrenceville’s goalie, the clock struck 4:00, and the game was over. Echoes of “Let Them Play!” from the Bad News Bears movies rattled around my brain, but instinctively I knew that if I protested I would be alone. The game was over.
This evening’s United loss was useful in part because of yesterday’s 3-0 strafing of Liverpool by City at the Etihad, another game I watched almost from beginning to end. I have said it before, but still. I love watching City play. During the game I was surfing the Web for a proper Manchester City FC scarf. “When would you wear it,” my wife asked. “When wouldn’t I?” I responded. It is going to be great when they win the Prem this year. Yeah, I said it. Incidentally, both the United and City games were on my DVR since they were played at 3:00 EST, a decidedly inconvenient hour. Few things are more mildly annoying than avoiding Twitter and Facebook for six hours to avoid finding out the score of an English soccer game that happened earlier in the day. The City game especially was a longed-for treat, since it was broadcast on ESPN2 with play-by-play by Sir Ian Darke and color commentary from Steve McManaman. Those two are as close to Kalas and Ashburn as I get anymore.
Sunday afternoon’s Winter Classic (the NHL version) was an unsatisfying result to be sure, but really I felt it was a reasonable facsimile of the fates of these franchises since Bernie Parent stopped being the Flyers’ goaltender, i.e., the Rangers have a goaltender (now it is Henrik Lundquist, when they won the Stanley Cup it was Mike Richter) and the Flyers don’t – megabucks free agent goaltender Ilya Bryzgalov was benched for the Winter Classic in favor of Sergei Bobrovsky (remember him?) Bob promptly lost the game, in no small part due to a bad-angle softie he gave up to a checking-line winger that tied the score at two as the Flyers blew a two-goal lead. You know what? Let’s talk about the Flyers again in April. As long as they get the eight-seed (they are on pace for better, for sure) it is all the same.
New Year’s Day we hosted thirty (or so) family members at our home. The entire day is a flat blur, cleaning the house, running to Wegmans, cleaning the house some more, setting up the bar, setting up the food, then the party started and the real work began…my body hurts again just thinking about it. Week 17 of the NFL was more or less elevator music for the whole day; there were never even five minutes to sit and watch or even listen to any of the games. I know, though, that the Eagles pounded the Redskins and that my picks (fittingly) went 7-7-2 against the spread. I enjoyed my relatives picking on me for finishing below .500 for the season on my picks. Yes, I said, but my best bets were 25-19-1. That’s pretty good. Oh, and Andy Reid is coming back, but then I told you that awhile back when I reminded you that Jeffrey Lurie was never going to pay Reid $5M in 2012 to join the Green Bay Packers as an unpaid offensive consultant.
New Year’s Eve was the highlight of this past 96+ hours. Somehow I parlayed the Adam Carolla Keswick Theater experience into a free (there’s that word again…yum yum) ticket to the Winter Classic Alumni Game IN A SUITE. Ordinarily I get chafed by paying $25 to park, but when the game, the food and the beer are all gratis, well, here is $40, can I get three fives? Because I need them to bet on who will score in the Alumni Game. In the suite I organized a snake draft among the eight of us watching the game together. Five dollars a man, pick two players, if your player scores you win the pot. It was only right that I gave the first pick to our host and the last pick to myself. So by the time it got to me, the easy picks were gone (Lindros, Messier) but then amazingly so were some nostalgia guys (Clarke, Barber, Leach.) You’re betting on a guy whose last goal that counted happened when you were in grade school? Just how many shifts do you think these guys have in them? So I went “don’t pass,” i.e., I took Mike Gartner (700+ career goals, *just* 50 years old) and Adam Graves (329 career goals and *only* 43 years old.) Look, I did not want to say “I picked Flyers,” I wanted to say “I got paid.” Except, I didn’t. Gartner got stoned by career Flyer minor-leaguer Neil Little on a breakaway in the third period, and I winced. He was a great pick, but Graves, well, not so much. It probably goes without saying that betting on an Alumni Game at any level is a cry for help.
Whatever. It has been a good week so far.
Spurs v City coming up soon…there will be a lot resting on that game…should be a belter!