Big Smoke

’cause it’s hard to see from where I’m standin’

Blood on the Ice

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Why still have hockey?

I was watching this game in a bottle bar on the West side yesterday. To call it “hockey” would be generous. What it was would be better defined as “ice boxing.”

Now, in a sense, both basketball and football can be considered bloodsports – in that there’s a lot of contact play and tempers flaring – but they’re also largely self-policing. You tend not to chop a player’s ankles because they’ll do the same to yours. You tend not to bean batters in baseball because they’ll knock out the first of yours who steps to the plate.

But hockey? Pah! It’s been allowed so long it’s part of the game! It’s funny counting the scars on the commentators, all of whom former players. Nobody was especially surprised about this particular game – apparently, Philly’s called the “Broad Street Bullies” and Pitts’ captain is known as “crybaby Crosby,” but, watching it, I was rather concerned that they wouldn’t have players left by the third period.

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