Don't get me wrong. I'm completely thrilled that the Vancouver Canucks are back in the playoffs, and I desperately want them to beat the Calgary Flames. I hope this Canucks team goes on a deep run, and I'll watch every game I can, hopefully to an ultimately glorious conclusion that I dare not type out for fear of jinxing it.
I've been a die-hard Canucks fan for many decades, and have spilled my guts in print all about it. My parents were original season ticket holders for many thankless years, and the three times the Canucks made it to the Stanley Cup Finals were the greatest spring seasons of my life (until it ended, of course; unlike the bridge and tunnel crowd, I actually think lighting cars on fire and looting The Bay is stupid). I'm also a goalie on a beer league hockey team called the Vancouver Flying Vees, which is a skating tribute to Canucks lore. And for most of the year, I'm usually wearing some sort of Canucks paraphernalia.
But... I don't want to go to the Canucks game with you. No offence, and I'm not talking about Linden Vey. It's just that, after many years of dutifully showing up for games at the Pacific Coliseum, GM Place, and now Rogers Arena, I'm done. Let me explain.
I don't want to go to the Canucks game with you because I am so, so over the arena scene, and it has nothing to do with the product on the ice. I know it sounds elitist and negative, but it has everything to do with everything else about going to a Canucks game.
I'm done with navigating past the burly scalpers barking in my face. I'm done with the unhealthy, narrow food choices (what the hell are churros anyway?) I’m done with the overpriced and under poured beer. I'm done with lining up with 700 other men in order to urinate. I’m done with making noise when I’m told to as opposed to when I’m inspired to. I'm done with rink seats so small that you have to fold your rib cage inwards while the drunk dude from Port Moody you're sitting beside is draped over half your body. I'm done with the anticipatory guy, three rows ahead of you, who stands up and blocks your view every time the Canucks even remotely get a scoring chance. I'm done with men in suits who force their kids to leave the rink with seven minutes left in the third period to beat the traffic (it's sports: it's not over 'til it's over, at least let your kids see every minute). I'm done with assholes who dump popcorn or worse on anyone wearing the opposing team's jersey. I'm also -ahem- done with making small talk with you for four hours.
At this stage of my life (earliest of early 40s, new dad, East Van, blah, blah), I would much, much rather watch the game in my own controlled environment: my fortress of solitude, at home, on TV, in HD, while spread out on a spacious and comfortable couch. Twitter is on the laptop, while Jim Hughson calls every play in every way on Hockey Night In Canada. I can drink my own craft beer from a nice full, cold bottle. I can pee alone, and at my leisure. I can eat healthy, inexpensive food that includes actual vegetables. And no one from Port Moody can touch me.
As a lifelong Canucks fan, this is just how I feel. Don't get defensive about this. Leave that to Dan Hamhuis. And… GO CANUCKS GO!
