Sports venues are constantly being redesigned, re-imagined and rebooted to make a more "user friendly" venue until the fan expects a reach around.
I get it-less people go to live sporting events because they can DVR them into Xfinity and watch them while doing the Hulu on their Google Glass with Sensaround fumbles and scratch and sniff nachos.
Today I went to a live sporting event that offered a limited 105,491 edition seat cushion, sideways snow, a Himalayan frostbite experience, and the opportunity to catch hip joint herpes from a telemarketer from Guelph in a bootleg Darcy Tucker sweater smushed against me like we're in a Gibraltar Trade Center photo booth …and it was a joy.
Outdoor hockey has "something". What started as a novelty like glow in the dark condoms has turned into a very enjoyable regular occurrence like having sex with the lights on.
I don't need to plug my iPad into a dual data cable/massage port and check my out of town cricket fantasy scores while getting 3000 fingers of love in a climate controlled biosphere with organic pizza sprouts served to me by a replicant.
I got to watch a balls out, occasionally chaotic hockey game between two Original Six squads that came down to a sometimes infuriating OT and a shootout.
If I would have brought a Sherpa, he would have been ceremonially removing a black toe from me so gangrene didn't set in while Jimmy Howard characteristically coughed up the game winning goal.
Me, not getting a pedicure during a timeout.
But I'm not concerned (I am concerned with the Wings post-season chances, but that's for another blog. Probably Elliotte Friedman's) with the outcome, necessarily.
This is about how a sporting event is presented.
For the record, the rest rooms had such long lines I though the hand warmers might be spitting out dollar slot tokens. I saw one roving vendor selling some sort of sugared nut and no rum to wash them down with. The people in the first row are so far away from the ice they'd need a wrist rocket to launch a hat over the glass and Amazon to deliver an octopus.
But the atmosphere had nothing to do with Jumbotron exhortations or overly giddy mascots or free giveaways. It had something to do with a huge stadium full of mostly etched-in-the-heart hockey fans and their guests who were gonna stay until they saved their family money on cryogenics; screaming at the distant ice, calling the players by name, only hating their adversaries in the wrong color sweaters to a socially appropriate intense dislike (no fisticuffs at our end of the ice- c'mon, it wasn't Shitcago).
I won't lie, during TV timeouts I was dreaming of a hot tub and taking on Manon Rheame in an attached bubble hockey game,
Yeah, you couldn't score on her in either
definition of the term.
but during play, I didn't wanna be anywhere else, look at any out of town scores ( there weren't any, but still) or go to the Steak Bite Experience in the food concourse.
I know the Bettmans that be in hockey and other sports will continue to make opulent palaces in which to play the games, the same way the music business will continue to use auto tune, beat programs and every trick a machine will offer.
Music has been increasingly digitalized and homogenized over the years, and there has been a backlash. Many great musicians have been reintroducing analogue, stripping down recording sessions to bare essentials, and tossing the computer out as much as they can get away with. And it works.
The Winter Classic today had the same feeling. Stripped down, raw. Tube amps, broken strings, and chillingly wonderful.
I get it-less people go to live sporting events because they can DVR them into Xfinity and watch them while doing the Hulu on their Google Glass with Sensaround fumbles and scratch and sniff nachos.
Today I went to a live sporting event that offered a limited 105,491 edition seat cushion, sideways snow, a Himalayan frostbite experience, and the opportunity to catch hip joint herpes from a telemarketer from Guelph in a bootleg Darcy Tucker sweater smushed against me like we're in a Gibraltar Trade Center photo booth …and it was a joy.
Outdoor hockey has "something". What started as a novelty like glow in the dark condoms has turned into a very enjoyable regular occurrence like having sex with the lights on.
I don't need to plug my iPad into a dual data cable/massage port and check my out of town cricket fantasy scores while getting 3000 fingers of love in a climate controlled biosphere with organic pizza sprouts served to me by a replicant.
I got to watch a balls out, occasionally chaotic hockey game between two Original Six squads that came down to a sometimes infuriating OT and a shootout.
If I would have brought a Sherpa, he would have been ceremonially removing a black toe from me so gangrene didn't set in while Jimmy Howard characteristically coughed up the game winning goal.
But I'm not concerned (I am concerned with the Wings post-season chances, but that's for another blog. Probably Elliotte Friedman's) with the outcome, necessarily.
This is about how a sporting event is presented.
For the record, the rest rooms had such long lines I though the hand warmers might be spitting out dollar slot tokens. I saw one roving vendor selling some sort of sugared nut and no rum to wash them down with. The people in the first row are so far away from the ice they'd need a wrist rocket to launch a hat over the glass and Amazon to deliver an octopus.
But the atmosphere had nothing to do with Jumbotron exhortations or overly giddy mascots or free giveaways. It had something to do with a huge stadium full of mostly etched-in-the-heart hockey fans and their guests who were gonna stay until they saved their family money on cryogenics; screaming at the distant ice, calling the players by name, only hating their adversaries in the wrong color sweaters to a socially appropriate intense dislike (no fisticuffs at our end of the ice- c'mon, it wasn't Shitcago).
I won't lie, during TV timeouts I was dreaming of a hot tub and taking on Manon Rheame in an attached bubble hockey game,
definition of the term.
but during play, I didn't wanna be anywhere else, look at any out of town scores ( there weren't any, but still) or go to the Steak Bite Experience in the food concourse.
I know the Bettmans that be in hockey and other sports will continue to make opulent palaces in which to play the games, the same way the music business will continue to use auto tune, beat programs and every trick a machine will offer.
Music has been increasingly digitalized and homogenized over the years, and there has been a backlash. Many great musicians have been reintroducing analogue, stripping down recording sessions to bare essentials, and tossing the computer out as much as they can get away with. And it works.
The Winter Classic today had the same feeling. Stripped down, raw. Tube amps, broken strings, and chillingly wonderful.
That had to be a blast, looked like it even on tv. I give the NHL a lot of (deserved) shit, but I have to give them credit too when they get something right.. the Winter Classic is pure genius.
ReplyDeleteAs for the game, I know Howard is going to catch a ton of crap for not showing up in the shootout (as usual), but I doubt many will rightfully thank him for the one point they got, which would not have happened without a couple of stellar saves my him and his big toe. I was so glad they tied it up, mostly because I didn't want the game to end. They had a couple chances in ot, notably Nystrom on that broken play. I bet he wishes he had that one back, Z was wide open.
Glad to see you gave a shout out to my old girlfriend Manon Rheame. I wonder how she's doing these days? I should look her up. I'm sure the restraining order is up by now.
It was fantastic. I couldn't have written a game recap because so many people were coming and going. Between the main "yard lines" everyone seemed to stand the whole game. The net we were behind, everyone sat (or walked around for hot dogs/piss runs) until OT.
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ReplyDeleteThat was absolutely the dumbest, most fun I have ever had! I hope to thaw out by June. We were in sec 11, row 10 scored the seats for 50 apiece. Frickin awesome.
ReplyDeleteWish I had known you were there. We could have had a beer or an entire keg waiting for traffic to clear outta Ann Arbor.
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