Like John Kincade, only I know what the fuck I'm talking about!

Friday, October 13, 2006

Since when did hockey need a sideshow?

Current mood: distressed

Guess who's back? Me silly, just like the NHL.

Once again, I have discarded my beard and climbed out of the closet because the Thrashers are back in action! After missing the first week of the season due to anal surgery, I am back to my old self. It was good to get in the back door of the arena again. While the on-ice product is off to an unusually hot start, it's the off ice game experience that's really taken a dump in it's pants. In the past, I begrudgingly accepted the balance between the hockey and the entertainment. This season, with the team playing well and drawing like the Hawks (the second worst crowds in the league barely ahead of Anaheim), the scales have tipped in favor of the sideshow.

First of all, lets start with the ice sluts known as the Spirit Squad, a bunch of skimpily dressed tarts with their asses hanging out, literally. Hey Thrashers, get the brunette with the tramp stamp tattoo on her butt a bigger pair of shorts. Every time she bends over, she's putting on a show that should get her some dollar bills stuffed in her garters. Wonderful message you are sending out to the families that bring their pre-teen girls to games, why not just invest in skating lessons for strippers? I know my rant isn't going to send them packing, but might I suggest putting them in spandex pants and those fashionable female cut hockey jerseys? Is it because that's a CCM product and not an RBK one, or maybe your target demographic is John Mark Karr. Might I suggest skating some cute little boys out there in tight shorts and tank tops and pull the Mark Foleys of the world?

What a perfect segue... I am not sure who that leather-skinned hack is that is trying out for the "Keys To The Game" segment during breaks, but apparently he is so busy fighting off his lisp that he manages to mangle the names of some pretty familiar NHL players over the Philips Arena PA system. He fancies himself a hockey guru while sitting next to a washed-up college football handoff machine, but when that mic is hot in Philips he sounds like a part-timer from WRAS. This guy is proof that you can't be a howling success by simply howling; he is slathered in cheese and makes people want to see more J. Bird. I know what you're thinking, and the reason I don't do it is because I am not a 'professional broadcaster', that pre-op tranny claims to be. Of course he claims to be straight as well…

It's this type of game day garbage that screams "KNIGHTS!" I mean, "BUSH LEAGUE!" I would normally take a shot and compare the Thrashers to the ECHL, because a person could expect to see this type of production in the suburbs, but the Gladiators do it better. Their ice crew is hotter, and their announcer… anyway, too much of this season may push me up to Gwinnett where I can go to a hockey game and see hockey.

Bite me.


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