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Your lifestyle, your quirk
I’m not a big sports person.
Yeah, I still follow the occasional horse race (although early retirements + terrible injuries make it a hard sport to love), and I will always be fond of the Oakland A’s, as I went to many a game of theirs when I lived in the Bay Area. I’m not a big hockey fan; I bear a lot of childhood loyalty for the San Jose Sharks, and then there’s my general affection for the Los Angeles Kings.
But Suz, I can hear you saying, you live in Orange County. Shouldn’t you like the Ducks?
Shall I explain my issues with the Ducks?
A long, long time ago, I worked for a magazine company that had its office located about two minutes away from The Pond, better known as Honda Center. Not a two-minute drive – a two-minute walk. When I went for my afternoon strolls on my breaks, I always passed the stadium. Needless to say, whenever the Ducks had a game or some sort of event – which was often, during hockey season – traffic became utterly unbearable, and eager little Ducks fans would park their cars in my company’s lot. I got blocked in several times. My coworkers once physically lifted a dude’s car (well, they had a jack) and moved it away so we could leave.
(They also left a note calling the driver a dumbass, though they spelled it “dumass” – so if that was you who parked your car in our lot long ago and received a misspelled note with your car…shame on you, blocking our garage! We wanted to go home!)
As a result, I became extremely irritated with the Ducks. I was very, very pleased with the Kings whipped them during a Freeway Faceoff I attended some years back; I think it was 2008? I was just pleased to see my professional rivals vanquished, but my Duck-loving friends were quick to point out that the Kings sucked and it wouldn’t happen again.
That just made me like the Kings more. I dig a good underdog story.
Fast forward a few years. As of publication, the Kings are one win away from the Stanley Cup, and the Los Angeles fans issued a kindly welcome to the Jersey Devils by bringing cutouts of everyone’s favorite Jersey residents. See, LA can be classy!
The Kings are one win away from the Cup…and my neighbor is one game away from an aneurysm.
Now, I’ve discussed my neighbor at length in my blog, but here’s a recap for those of you just joining the story:
My neighbor loves hockey. His wife loves hockey. His friends love hockey. I’m assuming if he had a pet, it would love hockey as well. The entire complex can hear them loving hockey whenever a game is on. Besides loving hockey as a sport, he really seems to love the Kings, and doesn’t like anyone who stands in their way. He likes to give advice to players through the television set. I can identify with this; I like to give advice to characters in horror movies, who usually ignore me and proceed to do stupid crap that gets them killed.
I’m usually nicer about it, though.
Me: Don’t go in there! DON’T GO IN THERE! [covers eyes]
Neighbor: DAMMIT CARTER I’M GONNA SHOOT YOU IN THE KNEECAPS! [something crashes] So what’s your favorite crème brulee? SON OF A—DAMMIT SON GET YOUR **** TOGETHER!
He’s frequently upset with Carter. Poor Carter, whoever he is. (Bear in mind that I don’t follow the teams all that much. I couldn’t tell you who their best goalie is or anything. They’re entities to me. Sharks, Kings, Ducks, Canucks, etc.)
Honestly, sometimes I’m not sure he realizes they can’t hear him.
This man who has successfully taught my cute little bird how to swear because he cusses out the rival teams so much. Now my bird can say “Dammit!” in a cute little helium voice. He’s small and fluffy so it’s kind of adorable. Thank God he can’t enunciate all that well.
I don’t even need to have the game on anymore – I can tell what’s happening by the roars from my neighbor’s den. They howl in triumph when the Kings score a goal, and scream in agony when someone else scores. Then the threats begin.
So yes, I hope the Kings win it all, if only because my neighbor might go on a killing spree if they don’t.