The Lightning were pistol-whipped and mercilessly left for dead by the Carolina Hurricanes the other night, losing 5-1, and if they can stagger back to their feet in time, they will try their fate with the Pittsburgh Penguins this evening. Sidney “The Overpaid Brat” Crosby likely won’t be playing yet after he ate the sideboards back in January and injured his ankle.
What is it I can’t stand about Sidney Crosby, besides the overly lavished hype and the recurrent, ridiculous proclamation that he is the “face of the NHL” despite the fact there are far better, stronger, and more deserving players? He doesn’t even look like a hockey player. Real hockey players don’t have cutesy waves in their long, lush hair! Real hockey players have gaps in their teeth from collisions with pucks and sticks, and lopsided, crooked features from bones being repeatedly broken and glued back together so they can get back on the ice.
I resist the “you must love Sidney Crosby” campaign that is crammed insistently down our throats, with his face plastered throughtout my beloved NHL Yearbook, gleaming on the covers of men’s magazines, in advertisements, etc. I have seen him play a few times and wasn’t exactly blown away by his performance. There are other players who are more aggressive, more talented, and just better players. So why all the neon-light attention on this guy, with such a push to adore him and consider him the god of the NHL? That is ultimately why I can’t stand him; because it’s like I’m supposed to for no apparent reason except to create a marketing and money-making giant for the NHL, and focus on marketability and dollar signs instead of talent and grit. Hockey has never been a beauty or personality contest, and I resent his contribution to such fluff, though who can blame him for accepting millions of dollars to do so?
According to yesterday’s Lightning Insider, “Practice today was intense, with lots of hitting, battling and push-ups for those who weren’t up to par.” Take a look at the team record; wouldn’t “those who weren’t up to par” include the whole damn team?
OK, blood pressure rise, inhale, exhale, count to ten….let’s stop talking about hockey, shall we?…inhale, exhale….
In happier news, my cat Tweetie is doing great. You may remember a scare we had right before Christmas (see this post: My Baby) when I was terrified I was going to lose him. The vet taking care of him is wonderful and has adjusted the old furry guy’s medications so that he is lively, playful, beating up Sylvester, running up and down the hall with his ears back and that crazy, dark-eyed look on his face, demanding more room on the bed at night even though he already has most of it, and reminding me loudly in the morning that he gets vitamins mixed with milk and the other 2 cats don’t, nya nya! His fur has grown back and I pause sometimes while I am holding him and playing with him (or spoiling him, according to Gary), and I am so happy he is still with me, still able to play and be his headstrong, vocal, and snuggly self again.
And Tweetie doesn’t like Sidney Crosby either!