Bloodsport

It is my belief that everyone has, deep down in their souls, a morbid fascination with blood. Warmongers, peaceniks, children, cute fuzzy bunnies... All things visceral are signs of life, and possibly, the one thing assuring us of the existence of life is death, so anything involving, or impersonating the cessation of life, is naturally exhilarating. Sick. True. Possibly even immutable.

I am not a violent person, so my outlet for this bloodlust is hockey. More structured than Ultimate Fighting, less "Omigod, I broke a nail! I want a freethrow!" than Basketball. All my apologies to basketball fans, because there are a lot of you, but compared to hockey, it's ballet. I can't stay awake for a whole game. I'm sure many have similar gripes about the NHL, and I want one and all to feel free to vent them... With the exception of the token and tired, "At least there was a basketball season this year!" All pro sports in turn. ;)

The point of this is that I'm frustrated lately because it seems to me that love of sport -- of any kind -- has somehow become synonymous with intellectual frailty or inaptitude. I have lately been ashamed, for some undetermined reason, to talk sports with my friends in academia. So here it is, among all my book talk, dead authors, and quotes o' the day: If they televise the NHL draft, I'm totally watching it, and Patrick Roy is, in fact, the greatest goalie of all time.

--Ken Dryden is second for finishing law school and winning a cup in the same year... How's THAT for academia? He also wrote a stellar book called The Game which is worth reading for anyone even mildly interested in the sport. Smart hockey players? Believe it. --

I am a sad sap of a hockey fan realizing this week would signify, more or less, the final round of the Stanley Cup Playoffs, and to be honest, I just couldn't help myself. I'm sick over the whole thing... Bring it back!