Status: GO BOMBERS!
I am not one to be called a sports fan. The mere mention of organized games causes me to tremble from my carefully styled hair to my perfectly manicured toes. I do not play sports, I do not watch sports. I don't like to break a sweat, and I don't like the unbearable nervous tension involved in cheering for a particular team, complete with the excruciating countdown of how long your most likely arbitrarily picked team has to obliterate the evil competition. What a waste of time!
I am, however, known to sporadically take pleasure in nostalgic events coupled with a sense of hometown pride. Us small town kids didn't have much to do - no movie theatre, no amusement parks - the Bomber game was the place to be on a Friday night! Granted even then I was more interested in telling "dirty" jokes with my friends (the 11 year old equivalent of a dirty joke, which most often just had a reference to underwear) and buying chocolate bars at intermission than actually taking notice of the game. But since Matt was keen on seeing all the mundane aspects of my modest upbringing, and on going to a hockey game, we patronized the Flin Flin Whitney Forum on our last night in town. It wasn't quite as exciting as I remember it to be (though nothing really is once you grow up), but worth doing for the memories alone.
And in keeping with my childhood experiences, the Bombers lost by approximately 2.5 billion to nil.
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1 comment:
What a night!
Thank you for not mentioning the following facts:
- I had no idea what, if any, the rules were.
- I seemed unaware whenever a goal was scored.
- I occasionally cheered the wrong team.
- I ducked any time the puck became the least bit airborne.
Still, great night!
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