zij would have been told to move back up to Row P, but no, I was told I had to return to Row A lest I incur the wrath of the ushering gods.

But I digress. After flipping through the Caps’ yearbook I provided, Alex Ovechkin, Olie Kolzig, and Dave Steckel joined Pettinger on my friends’ “Hey, he’s cute” list. As the game progressed, though, they seemed genuinely enthralled by the action on the ice rather than just by the attractiveness of the players. During one of my brief and stealthy visits to their seats, I explained the red light that indicates TV-timeouts (”Oh, that’s why they stopped playing!”) and a couple other tidbits before the usher’s evil eye forced me back to my own seat. So other than running over for post-goal high-fives I didn’t get as much in-game opinion as I’d hoped.

While disappointed by the lack of fights—after the Kovalev high-sticking on Ovie to open the game I was convinced, incorrectly, that at least one fight would ensue—they loved the bone-jarring hits and the laserbeam goals.

The Capitals obliged by providing a thrilling finale to a game many hockey fans hoped would have ended in regulation — but as another friend said (one whose last in-person Caps game was at the US Air Arena), “It was worth that goal in the last thirty seconds for such an exciting win.” While I would have preferred a 4-3 victory to the ulcer-inducing end of the third period, I won’t argue with the excitement spawned by Ovechkin’s fourth goal of the night.

Donald, Johanna, Namrata (photo by Mike Rucki)Later, as we sat sipping Guinnesses (Guinni?) at the Irish Channel after the game, everyone expressed their happiness with the evening’s experience, as well as a strong inclination to recommend the live hockey experience to friends. The mood was bouyant, with all in attendance waxing rhapsodic about the game, and their intention to attend another one again, soon.

The next day, as my friends learned of Ovechkin’s broken nose, they were even more impressed. “That game was a blast! But [Ovechkin] scored four goals with a broken nose? That guy is amazing.” Or, as another put it, “He’s a beast!”

I couldn’t agree more. The game was a perfect introduction to hockey (and to the Capitals); Ovechkin’s heroic performance and an inspired team effort helped convince these hockey first-timers of what we already knew: that nothing compares to seeing a hockey game live. Welcome to the sport, friends; I hope you enjoy the ride.

Filed in Alexander Ovechkin, Brooks Laich, Dave Steckel, Guinness, Hockey Heartthrobs, Matt Pettinger, Washington Capitals| Permalink| Comments (13)

Blogger as Ex-Pat

By pucksandbooks
Thursday, November 22, 2007

Irish Pint - photo by Gary A. KriebelThe Irish are unfairly maligned as a drinking culture. In point of fact, they are a chugging one. Tonight was a Wednesday in a non-holiday week of work for the Irish, with a “football” match between England and Croatia televised. Every pub in Galway was packed, every pub table larded (blessed!) by a preponderance of pint glasses. Ever filled.

Bless these big-time buzzed hearts.

There is something to be learned I think from the fact that per capita this land outdrinks all others combined and still manages to engineer the planet’s greatest, most impressively growing economy. Obviously, that lesson would be: behave more like they do.

This section of my report is directed exclusively at my family back home: we are never to see one another again, through no fault yours. Quite simply, I am home, and I need to carry off the remainder of my days in this lap of liquored luxury. But technology is fueling the dynamic economy of Ireland, so we will be able to exchange email.

I am aware as well that were I to return home I would be forbidden from ever witnessing the Washington Capitals winning another hockey game. What else is there but the life of a perpetually smiling ex-Pat? Continue reading ›

Filed in Guinness, OFB, Other Sports, Puck Sodas| Permalink| Comments (1)

Breakfast Out of America

By pucksandbooks
Wednesday, November 21, 2007

Guinness

I am on holiday from bad hockey. My cousin Bill and I are visiting the land of our ancestry this week, the Emerald Isle. We are here to throw back a few pints and to see if Erin will go braless.

Sport is gaining increasing importance in Irish culture. Games on the pitch, as elsewhere in western Europe, remain a staple of pub patrons’ enthusiasm. But coincidental to the scalding hot Irish economy has been the meteoric rise in the popularity of golf. Ireland today is home to some of Europe’s finest links, and Bill and I, in Ireland’s pre-dawn darkness Tuesday morning, were witness to its impact. We passed then an enormous travel case for the clubs belonging to Padraig Harrington, the reigning British Open champion. His Wilson Staff hard shell case was surrounded by perhaps a dozen other travel bags on an airport luggage dolly. It being Thanksgiving week back home, Bill and I thought it likely he was headed East across the ocean to some million dollar, “silly season” exhibition. But what was striking about this celebrity non-sighting was the Irish reaction to it. Scores of airport personnel gathered around Padraig’s bag and reached out to brush a hand against it. It is a small land here, and one sporting hero’s outsized accomplishments have an enormous impact on his countrymen.

Awaiting our train west cross country from Dublin to Galway this morning we enjoyed “a full Irish breakfast” as our first meal here. The breakfasts of some however are fuller than others’. A wool-capped gentleman of about 70 sat adjacent to us in the train station tavern and had polished off two pints with his.

Full Irish BreakfastHis is not a lone act of rebellion. We passed a Guinness tanker or three on our bus ride from the airport to the train station. They are identical in appearance to oil tankers, except their cargo is mother’s milk. Ten million pints of Guinness are brewed every day. A fair number are consumed here.

Bill and I needed about six hours in Galway today to deem our arduous, sleepless journey worth all its trials. There is music in the mouths of our kinsmen. Briefly as a graduate student I entertained thoughts of studying linguistics, and I thought about this again as I listened to songs that are the common discourse when heard by North American ears. To ask a barmaiden here directions to a south county castle is to be woo-ed in comprehension-free meter of fast-paced, poetic refrains.

Did I mention bars? Today we also learned well of America’s shortcomings in her saloons. Back home we don’t much construct bars as comfort zones. We make sure the taps are working and the corners are crammed with high definition TV, but here there is in the typical tavern a home away from home. Lively live music of course, but the sheer structures are jewels. Here I need an architect’s vocabulary rather than a blogger’s.

We lodged ourselves in Galway’s “The Skeff” this afternoon and evening. A split-level saloon warmed with wood everywhere within you might think novel. How about five levels of such in the Skeff! Irish-American eyes this day were smiling indeed.

Filed in Guinness, OFB, Puck Sodas| Permalink| Comments (4)

The Thirsty Fan

By OrderedChaos (Mike Rucki)
Tuesday, October 10, 2006

“Beer is living proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy.”
Benjamin Franklin

Who would doubt the words of such a great American? Not I. And while Mr. Franklin never had the opportunity to see a hockey game while quaffing his favorite brew, I’m sure he would nonetheless support the endeavor.

Yet the discriminating Caps fan finds the beer selection wanting at the Verizon Center. To be sure, taps pouring Budweiser, Coors Light and the like abound. But, as Eric Idle once said, “How is American beer like having sex in a canoe? They’re both f*cking close to water.” And charging $7 for a cup of such swill is as staggering an affront to good taste as the beer itself.

Why must Caps fans struggle to find an enjoyable brew? I am tempted to rant about the price of our beer, but I doubt that will change. So instead, can we not hope for premium beer at these premium prices? Even the Hershey Bears quench their fans’ thirst with 20-oz Molson for a mere $5. We could learn something from our AHL brethren.

To be fair, good beer does exist at the Phone Booth. Red Hook taps are scattered about, though at least one such tap at each food area would stop fans from walking halfway around the arena for a pint. If you have the patience to go to the Dewar’s Club between periods, where the friendly bartenders are usually swamped, they have Guinness that one can bring back to one’s seat. Heineken and Yuengling, while drinkable, hardly dazzle the palette.

DC is clearly a town that enjoys good beer — just look at the success of Old Dominion, Capitol City, the Brickskeller, Chef Geoff’s, Gordon Biersch, R.F.D., and our city’s many Irish pubs.

So our taste buds (and wallets) are ready and willing. What’s the solution? Could the Caps bring in a local company to pour their high-quality beer in the arena, as they did in the past with Gordon Biersch? Could some advertising space be traded to a purveyor of fine brew in exchange for discounted kegs? Could an email-writing campaign by parched fans make a difference? I don’t know.

But what I do know is that Benjamin Franklin would want a thirsty Caps Nation to be happy.

If you agree, or have additional tips on finding good beer at the game, post a comment below.

Filed in American Hockey League, Blogs, Guinness, Hershey Bears, Hockey, Puck Sodas, Washington Capitals| Permalink| Comments (10)