First in a possible series of meditations by my husband, who, drunk and bored and in Detroit, typing with two thumbs on a Blackberry, is funnier than I am on my best days.
Begin transmission:
About 1971 and i was maybe 6 when my father took me and my brother jim to a Cleveland Barons game at the now demised Cleveland Arena, a facility which then Cavs coach said, "led the league in cars stolen from the parking lot." I have only the dimmest most impressionistic memories of being there. I don't kno who they played. If the won. Were thy in the NHL then? I believe so, if briefly. Smoke. The players circling the half ice before the game, ominously, like ravens. The Zambomi (of course). I liked the logo, i can't remember it precisely but there was a monocle involved. Now that i have kids i realice i almost certainly fell asleep, a least on the ride home. It is a wonderful memory full or warmth and protection in the presence of menice, the unknown. Kernal of childhood.
Well that was the last time i watched this much hockey. (One period so far. . If redWings win, locals go bananas. That would be cool. I may burn a car myself...) i am at a fairly pthetic rooftop bar (there is a portapotty up here) in the decimated heart of downtown detroit. The Greektown casino wafts soullessly over us, its fabulous blue translucense ethereal, detached, other, safe: which is rather the point. (It is beautiful though.) Down on earth, bright red wheels-withiwings shirts dominate. My chums up here are tattooed, edgy, teeth are at a premium. Chants of Go Wings and Lets Go Red Wings pop up, not at the many tense moments, taut pauses, during course of the game itself but in spasmodic outbursts during the commercials. We are, it feels, biding our time. I am told this would be the 5th championship in last 12 yrs. Besting the Yankees Red Sox Patriots during that period. Probbly have to go back to Jordan's Bulls to match it. Before that, what?, Russell's Celts. Did Gretsky win that many? Well now pburgh scores people are yelling 'fuck you.' Ok. That's fair. I hope they lose. I hope they both lose. How's that for fuck you. Althoug, burning that car would be cool.
The pointless 'People Mover' whirs by. It is a little two car monorail train that connects this crappy part of downtown with similarly other crappy parts of downtown culminatiing (arguably) in the gargantuan cylindrical blue and bankrupt GM headquarters. Like so many (all so far) of the urban rejuvenation efforts here it reeks of trying to hard, forced. At once outsized in unfulfilled ambition and puny in the face of the forces marshalled against it, the empty skyscrapers, and streets. The crowd is warming up now. Cheering for what seems to be (to the uninitiated) spectacular play of the goalie. (Another flashbaack. Not long after the Barons game, i read ' Roger Corzier Daredevil Goalie' about a RedWing, mde me the man i am today.) (Hey pess the attack. Shouts of 'Keep it in.' 'Shoot!' Actual applause how quaint, you would never hear hat t football o basketball.
The game is dizzying. Brought to you by the Marines - what does that tell you?
Use of the word 'outlet' as a verb is fun, as in '... outletted to Grvrnidki...' Up and back. The players are, in interview pregame etc, so unostentatious. Bearded, hockey being more or less a delay in that crane-operator career they were pursuing. the blur of it all. Another People Mover, empty i can see. They've popped on these bright construction lights now up here. Harsh. I realize, as the sun is set, there are no other lights up here. So thse offensive glaring orbs outshing the omnipresent flatscreen. A couple of sets of christmas lights would suffice, boys, at a tenth the cost. Just like the portapotty. Cheap. Poorly executed. Like the gm bldg, overkill, faux gaudy, uncomfortabl w the need for scale and pace.
I'll never make it thru the third perod. The poet wants to say something about preserving the moment of uncertainty and hope, perfect, medias res, letting the bull live, leaving it like those Barons, loved and unknown, forlorn (and monocle'd), just colors and and exotic lingering cigar incense. But in fact i am just too drunk and my thumbs are cramping up. Routine hockey injury i am sure. Go Browns :b
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry
Sunday, June 14, 2009
And I don't like the way his boys keep lookin' at me
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Bob hipped me to this from your back porch. Challenging to type through my guffaws here. I admire his productive use of time, especially while throwing back a few, perched bravely on a foreign barstool.
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