Azaroth

I’m not saying I didn’t have a good time. I did. But when we made the trip up to Ottawa on Wednesday to see the Penguins get whalloped, I had little idea as to the limits of humanity’s raging stupidity.

Now, really - aside from the game. The was one thing. I can go on about this or that, how the Penguins started slow and I could have put on skates and went out there to show them up, the shitty calls that put the game out of reach or the make up calls after it was already over… but this post is, sadly, about the people at the arena.

I had a good time with my dad, I don’t regret going. I don’t even regret the spending of about $500. It was an experience. Something to do. And it was with my father, which makes it all worth it.

But listen, people. Just listen very carefully.

Sports is just sports. It is not life and death. It’s not necessary to, as a sixty year old man, be standing up and screaming death threats at the referees every time a penalty is called. It’s just for fun. Yes I realize that it can be exciting, but in the end it’s called a game for a reason. Because it’s a game. It’s fun.

On the other hand, don’t take fun too far. Getting piss drunk and screaming that you’ll show your “FUCKING TITS!!!!” if the camera guy a row over would just put the “COCKSUCKING CAMERA!!!!!” on you is a bit far. Flashing players in the penalty box - again, too far. Stripping half naked, painted in your team’s colours? Yeah, again.. just a little too far. Dressing up like a character from the movie 300 and acting like a fool? Heckling fans of the other team? See, again, all a bit too far.

Have fun. Have a drink. Hell, even I had an eight dollar beer. But please… don’t have ten. Especially if you’re a one hundred pound female.

But look. Aside from the rotund 4′5 girl sitting beside me who stunk and felt the need to both be eating stinky shit the entire time and have her legs spread parallel so that I had to not only turn my knees but learn over toward my dad because she was taking up a seat and a half… aside from the row of loudmouth drunks behind me… aside from the drunk sixty year old clown screaming death threats and talking shit to me (luckily I don’t make a habit of punching sixty year old men in the mouth at sporting events, or he might have needed some help from the referee he’d been screaming and spitting at all night), aside from the hecklers who yelled and booed at me for wearing a Pittsburgh jersey, aside from the clowns who really did think they were pretty cool for dressing up and painting themselves, and ASIDE from the fact that my team got their fucking asses handed to them in their first playoff game in about six years - I had a good time.

It was a fun experience.

I’d probably just make sure to get a private box next time, because people are fucking stupid.