Technology...knowing the score...hockey in April
All I wanted to know was the score of the game. (By the way, if you don’t care about sports, and ice hockey in particular, you can stop reading right now.)
Last Saturday night, The Other Half and yours truly were motoring back home from Anna. I turned on the car’s radio, which, for some reason, still works. Unlike the CD player, which pretty much just eats the CDs that I try to listen to.
Yes, I know. A CD is old-time technology, dating all the way back to the 1990s or so. Well, when it comes to some technological wonders, I’m still kind of old-time, too.
That’s not to say that I don’t like many of the technological tools which are available to us as we make our way through the 21st century.
As I’ve shared in the past, give me a laptop any day. Back in the day, I used typewriters – the manual kind and then the electric version, which, at the time, seemed like an absolutely wonderful invention. By the way, kids, if you don’t know what a typewriter is, ask your parents. Or grandparents. They may have one hidden away in a closet somewhere.
Same goes for digital cameras. Yours truly will take a digital camera any day. Some folks may have liked, and still may like, toiling in the darkroom with containers and chemicals and a lack of light. Might have been nice, if you were a vampire.
Then again, there are some aspects of today’s technology which I can do without. Just ask The Other Half. I’ve developed a bit of a stubborn streak about cell phones, texting and such things. Honestly, I don’t want to be in contact with somebody all of the time. Down time is a wonderful thing. Silence, too.
That being said, I sure would have liked to have known the score of a somewhat insignificant game in the world of sports which was played last Saturday night.
I use the word “insignificant” ‘cause I’m guessing that for most folks in Union County, a National Hockey League postseason playoff game really doesn’t matter all that much in the scheme of things. I think there are a few hockey fans in our little corner of the world, but, for the most part, by the time April gets here, attention has turned to the Cardinals. And maybe even the Cubs.
Saturday night’s game involved the Winnipeg Jets and “my” team, the St. Louis Blues. A Blues victory would have meant a win in a best-of-seven-game playoff series. Such victories have not happened a lot for the Blues lately. Actually, last year they didn’t even make the playoffs.
Things didn’t look all that great back in January, either. At the time, the Blues were last in the league. As in Dead Last. In the Entire League. In the midst of such dire circumstances, the Blues dumped their head coach and brought in somebody new, on an interim basis. Most fans, I’m guessing, started the “wait until next year” vigil.
For Blues fans, “wait until next year” has been a rather constant theme. In some ways, and I’ve touched on this in the past, being a Blues fan is even worse than being a Cubs fan. At least the Cubs have won the World Series a few times. The Blues have never won a league championship, AKA the Stanley Cup.
Anyway, the Blues and the Jets played last Saturday night. As I mentioned, I turned on the radio in the car to find out the score of the game. All I could find was people talking about the game. Analysis, I believe it’s called. Talk and talk and talk. No score.
When I got home, I couldn’t bring myself to find the score of the game elsewhere. Remember, I’m a Blues fan. We kind of expect bad news.
Next morning, I ran into a fellow Blues fan. “Go, Blues,” he said. I looked at him. “Did they win?” I dared to ask. He smiled and nodded yes.
Wow. The Blues won. They’re headed to the second round of the playoffs. They’ll be playing some more in April. Some folks who follow the sport and offer their opinions on such things are now suggesting that the Blues could “win it all.”
I hope that typing those three words won’t jinx the team. Meanwhile, even though it’s spring, and the grass needs to be mowed (as in the grass really, really, really needs to be mowed), I’ll be paying attention to a game played by the boys of winter. Hope springs eternal. Go, Blues.