On Frozen Blog

My boss gave me an unpleasant assignment at week’s start: take a reporter to the NCAA basketball opening round’s evening slate at Verizon Center Thursday, for a schmoozing session with the press. That’s unpleasant for me cause it isn’t just that basketball isn’t my bag, but to be in a multi-use venue like Verizon Center and not see the ice sheet saddens my hockey heart. Even if I’m in a big building like the Phone Booth for a rock concert in the dead of summer my thoughts always gravitate to the cement slab covered up for the offseason.

I find monogamy sexy.

Also adding to the inventory of my Thursday melancholy was this consideration: I’d yet to set foot in Verizon Center, since its opening, for a hoops game. This was partly a bias I’d maintained because I’m hardcore about my hockey, but as the middle ’90s of Abe Pollin puck poison yielded to tough times of mess cleaning up by the liberated and Leonsis-led Caps, I developed a deep and lasting resentment for the half-hearted attentions old ownership ever showed the hockey team. And when under false and ludicrous pretenses the old man took away the name of the title-winning basketball team, that was the deal-sealer.

Call it a sh*t list. He and his team ain’t the only one on it. (How sad a thought: there are scores like me around town that have such bans imposed on multiple teams in the region, often for the same reason. We seem to have two extremes of sports team ownership in this town — the really, really commendably, personably engaged and competent, fellas you’d like to have a beer with, and the you-know-whos.)

It was a spiritual, devotional ban-streak I maintained. Cal had his streak, I have mine.

I messaged the reporter, Jeff, intermittently throughout Thursday, setting up a meeting point and dinner arrangements and such. I learned that he hails from Vermont. Which led me to ask him the inevitable question.

“Oh I’d much rather attend a hockey game than basketball,” Jeff told me. “We can use the tickets for a few minutes then go grab some beers,” he added. Suddenly, my evening assignment seemed a lot more pleasant.

My boss, using a boss’ prerogative, attended Thursday afternoon’s session at Verizon Center. He’d forked over some pretty serious dough for the tickets ($600+) and was under the understandable impression that his investment was good for the entirety of Thursday’s games. I found out otherwise at Will Call near 6:00.

When I called my boss to explain the oversight, he was crestfallen with embarrassment. Six hundred dollars (admittedly in pretty premium seating) apparently doesn’t buy what it once did. He made all manner of apologies to me, none of which of course were necessary. I was smiling widely. I assured him that I’d get a hold of Jeff and extend his heartfelt apology.

Then I suggested that we make it up to our reporter friend, at a future date, which at the moment was an immensely easy sell to my boss.

“Jeff is from Vermont and a big nut about hockey like me,” I began. “We do have college hockey’s final four coming to Washington next April. I’m sure Jeff would get a kick out of that.”

“Make it happen,” my boss replied.

Loyalty has its rewards.