Each year, for whatever reason, the time between the Stanley Cup finals and the next hockey season becomes inextricably elongated. Perhaps it’s the sour taste in my mouth as my Hawks have bitten the dust in the past two playoffs leaving very little room for the sweetness of a Stanley Cup in 2010. Perhaps it’s the impending new collective bargaining agreement. Perhaps it’s the fact that I haven’t skated since the day before the ice at Tenney Park melted to make way for spring. It doesn’t matter. I love hockey and have a hard time without it.
This summer I’ve been more proactive about my longing. Working my way through Ken Dryden’s mellifluous and expansive The Game has nicely filled the void (and made me an even bigger Habs fan). Dryden writes about hockey much in the same way Americans revere Abner Doubleday and the inception of baseball:
The Canadian game of hockey was weaned on long northern winters uncluttered by things to do. It grew up on ponds and rivers, in the big open spaces, unorganized, often solitary, only occasionally moved into arenas for practices or games.
Expect more from me on this compelling book, especially as America wrestles with its newfound affinity for the game and intellectualism replaces the stagnant analysis we’ve come to expect from modern sports discussion.
Phew, this is almost a Hoptellectual…In honor of the Central Waters Peruvian Morning I found in our Nation’s Capital, let’s get to Suds.
-Beer Here: Wisconsinite Summer Weiss from Lakefront. Hell yes.
-Haven’t been to the Chicago suburbs in a while, but this seems like a great reason to change that…
–Great science makes great beer. Good thing we have Northern Brewer.
–Full krausening. Oh yeah.
-Holy cow, this is some seriously awesome artwork from Indeed Brewing.
–More Oskar Blues for Chicago. Nobody’s complaining.
-This is overwhelmingly awesome: Dark Lord Day dinner with Big Star Taco and Publican Meats. 10 available seats…
-Finally, I meant to say this sooner, but I can’t wait to rock my Minnesota Wild apparel with Parise’s name on the back. Big moves by a team in desperate need.
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