Luckily for me I am not a fan of my hometown hockey team. I read something by a writer (Michael McKinley) who knows more about the most graceful and violent game going than I ever will that he learned everything he knows about disappointment from the Dope City Canucks. Personally, I have learned everything there is to know about the value of not having high expectations from the very same team.
This year, even before the pre-season began, only the most doped up of Canuck fans figured the team to offer hockey fans more than a weak excuse to drink up a storm in the stands or in front of a huge tv; plough our cars into whatever happened to get in the way if we were driving home from watching the spectacle; and maybe beat up anybody smaller than us if they happened to be wearing an hated team's jersey, especially a New York Ranger jersey.
When the Canucks were going pretty good a few years back those retro jerseys you dumb motherfuckers paid ridiculous amounts of money to buy looked cool as Don Cherry behind the bar of his pub. If the team keeps performing like they could not have got a gig at the Bad Allah Cabaret in 1979 those jerseys are going to do nothing but remind us of the days you did not have to pay big money to watch games in the Coliseum or pay to watch games on tv at home.
If the team turns out to be truly wretched I will know when it happens. It will be the day someone offers me free tickets to The Horror Show On Ice.
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