Hey, so something you might not know about me is that I kind of like hockey. Yeah, a little bit. Here and there. So when I heard there was a Pitt vs Duquesne hockey game last Friday, first I said, “Pitt has a hockey team?” and then “Duquesne has a hockey team?” and then “Tickets are only $5? I’m going.”
The whole way to Bladerunners in Harmarville, Alisha asked questions like, “Wait, what are we going to see again? A lacrosse match?” and “Is there going to be nude entertainment of any sort” and her most oft-asked question “Do you know that you’re totally the coolest person I know? I’m so lucky.” So we get there and follow a pack of Pitt students who knew which way to go. I appreciated when the ticket guy had to ask hesitantly, “Adult?” instead of just assuming that this broad is clearly not a student. He didn’t ask Alisha. In fact, he tried to give her the Downs discount. I kind of felt bad.
Since both of us went to Pitt for a minute, it was logical that we root for the Panthers and not the snobby Duquesne Dukes. I made sure to ask which side of the rink was for the Pitt fans, so as not to have any tense situations like when I accidentally sat on the visitors side at a roller derby bout I once went to.
Initially we sat all the way down by Pitt’s goal, until Alisha reminded me of my poor eye sight, and we moved slightly closer to the middle to ensure both sides of the rink could be seen. We were actually seated right next to the glorified runway that the Pitt players used, and you just know how idiotic I acted about that. Alisha’s suggestion ended up being quite serendipitous because we moved seats right as the busloads of Pitt students poured into the rink and about 20 of the loudest skinny-jeans, Ugg-wearing girls with their respective frat boy partners all ascended on the side of the bleachers we had just moved from. Now, I’m all about getting rowdy at sporting events. That’s the POINT. But even I’m able to mute my asshole-isms during the National Anthem. Unfortunately, no one told this group of kids that, and they proceeded to yell and scream and heckle and sing along in mock tenors and I was so thankful to not be standing in their midst and get labeled as a douchebag by the dumb luck of proximity. There were groups of students behind us who were furiously shushing them. How embarrassing.
Not that I was expecting slick NHL action, but goddamn is college hockey sloooow. I mean, time-wise it goes fast without the TV timeouts, but there was little action. The passing on both teams was pretty shakey and neither team had a good grasp of puck control. I teach hockey to mutes, so I know these things. However, that doesn’t mean it wasn’t fun for what it was. Alisha and I found ourselves heavily supporting Pitt, and we learned from the loud-mouths to our left that Steve, Brad and Mike were the popular players. I was frantically trying to check the roster on my phone and I still have no idea which ones were Steve, Brad and Mike. But you better believe I was a little minah bird every time I heard someone shouting their names. It was like this:
Pitt students in the know: “STEVE!!!!!”
Me, half a second later: “…..YEAH, STEVE!”
Alisha called me an asshole a lot.
During the first intermission, we went to the restroom, where I used the handicap stall after some older ginger woman in a mauve sweater inspected it and decided to pass. There was nothing wrong with it! She wound up in the stall next to me and when she sneezed loudly, I laughed out loud. It made me feel bad at first, but later I spotted her across the ice on the visitor’s side, at which point I hoped she had heard me laugh and that she will now have a sneezing complex, fucking Duquesne bitch.
The second period was more of the same. We were hoping for a fight. I went so far as to hope someone would get their eye poked out and skidded across the ice. But it was during this period that Pitt scored and tied the game. I don’t know who scored, but I don’t think it was Steve, Brad or Mike. Actually, I’m pretty sure Mike was the goalie.
Duquesne has a midget on their team! A little fucking Napoleon named URSO. Hate him with me, everyone! Alisha pointed him out first. “Look at that small boy. He seems like he has an attitude, so I hate him.” I decided to hate him too, not so much for the solidarity, but because I hate short people. No I’m kidding.
I just hate midgets.
A Pitt student in a fuzzy yellow pullover, with a ditzy-looking brunette at his side, walked past us to take a seat in Section O (for those unfamiliar with the seat chart, that is O for Obnoxious). One of the boys behind me yelled, “HEY MIKE!” at which point Yellow Pullover turned to the side and acknowledged him with a drunken smile. Then under his breath, the boy behind me goes, “Oooh, I’m telling Michelle!” and I took that to mean that the ditzy-looking brunette was not Michelle. And I was right! Because whoever that girl was, Mike is like, IN LOVE with her but she only wants to BE FRIENDS and poor Mike isn’t taking the hint. “I feel sorry for him,” the boy behind me said to his friend, another boy behind me. So then I was finding myself all wrapped up in this drama that I was barely paying attention to the game and Alisha started asking me questions like, “Wait, what does icing mean again?” and all I do was blurt things out like, “THAT’S NOT MIKE’S GIRLFRIEND OMG!”
Then Mike came and sat behind us! And I learned that he’s taking O Chem and some random biology that he doesn’t even need but just because he wants to, and he said it with this dismissiveness like it was merely some intramural kickball and not a fucking pre-med requisite, and my brain just couldn’t process it because he just exuded dumbness. He didn’t know jack about hockey though and even asked, “So, like, do you have to like, try out for this team?”
During the third period, I noticed that some cock roast on the enemy side was standing up and pantomiming in the direction of Section O. Then! Then, a boy from Section O started doing all these flashy finger-flippings back at the other guy and I was like, “Wow, finally maybe some shit will go down,” and I tapped Alisha on the shoulder to alert her of the drama but they had both stopped by then and she totally didn’t believe me.
“It’s true! That guy over there was gesticulating wildly and then this guy was all—”
“Shut up, I don’t believe you.” And then! Then she goes, “And I think it’s safe to say that none of my other friends ever say the things you say.” She wouldn’t tell me if that was good or bad and I found myself feeling paranoid and insecure.
Anyway, 3676489730954 penalties later, the game went into OT and we won less than a minute in! I was so excited about it, I don’t really know why. I don’t actually have much loyality invested in the Panthers, but at $5 a ticket, I’d sure go to another game.