I went to a fight and a hockey game broke out.

Okay, okay, it wasn't that bad; I just liked that title.

We did go to a hockey game last weekend (go Grizz! Woo!) -- my first ever, thanks to a totally reasonable and legitimate fear of a rogue hockey puck (or puff, if you listen to Uno) flying into the crowd, striking me in the head and causing my death. But DH dragged me for a good cause, a friend's birthday, and I made him promise to leap in front of me as a human shield if necessary (though as it turned out, we sat behind the goal and our seats were protected by a large net). A rogue puck did fly into the crowd at center court (or whatever) (see! it can happen!); luckily no one died.

As for the fights: There were fewer than I expected -- maybe three decent brawls over the course of the game, with a few minor scuffles thrown in for good measure. As the mother of young children, I loved the penalty box: The officials sent naughty players to a literal time-out box until they had reconsidered their actions and decided to play nicely. (Or something like that.)

We brought our girls. The older two liked the mascot -- Uno even conned a souvenir hockey puff from him -- but didn't pay too much attention to the game (which, considering the fights, may have been a good thing). Tres sat in my lap and watched the action move up and down the ice. She didn't fuss even when they blew a loud train whistle to celebrate our team's goals. What a good girl!

Overall, the game wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. Any sporting event is made more interesting by actually being there, as opposed to watching it on tv -- and hockey ramps up the excitement with the risk of spectator deaths! I'd rather go to a Jazz game, of course, but if we could sit behind the net I guess I'd try hockey again.


~RCH~