A little late, but chicken for breakfast?

I've been trying to post this for a week, but had a little problem with Blogger not working. Apparently, it appears to be somewhat functional today. So here we go.

Last Sunday, to much dismay from most of those affected, we were watching a ridiculous hockey game on Sunday afternoon of the long weekend. San Jose and Vancouver were playing at noon Pacific in the Shark Tank. What the eff -- I felt like I should be watching an Eskies game, not hockey. (I later found out it's because if they want NBC to show the game, they have to make sure it is over by the time the news starts in Eastern timezone aka 5 p.m. EDT ... Not that I was watching NBC ... any opportunity I don't have to listen to Pierre McGuire, I'll gladly take it.)

So, Glenn Healey had a little quip about it during the broadcast, and said he felt it was unfair at this point in the season to make the players play a game at noon and screw up their routine. And then said, "And I don't know if I would want to be eating pasta and chicken at 8:30 in the morning."

Pasta and chicken.

After doing a little bit of research and talking to a few of my hockey-playing buddies, I have discerned that this is what nearly everyone eats before hockey. Some also throw in a salad, and the type of pasta depends on the person ... but it seems fairly standard across the board.

I quote this directly from two goalies who both said the exact same thing. Former WHL netminder Kyle Stanton: "pasta with chicken and maybe a salad... usually 4 hours before a game"
Former AJHL netminder, Adam Melon: "Chicken with pasta 4 hours before and then a PB and J right before I leave for the rink"
Former WHL and current SJHL d-man Kyle Kyrzaniak echoed, citing his preferred pasta as Lipton Sidekicks.

Pictured above is a pre-game dinner I whipped up on a busy game-night, chicken is brushed with a sweet bbq sauce (beer, apple and maple yummm) then grilled on a Foreman grill. (I brush them with the sauce and blacken to sear in the juices. I find the Foreman dries out chicken breasts otherwise.) Lipton sidekick penne and quick tossed salad. Dinner's ready in 15 minutes, so I can make it out the door.

Another quick and easy chicken and pasta combo I like for game night is fresh fettucini with pesto and grilled chicken. That Foreman grill has been one of the handiest tools to my pre-game life, especially on a night I have an hour to get home from work, change and get to the rink.

This coming season, my plan is to get a slow-cooker. Fresh pasta cooks in literally 5 minutes, so if you've got your chicken ready to go, a hearty meal doesn't have to take a long time to whip up.

I also like to keep the necessary goodies to put together a caesar salad on hand: real bacon bits, whole grain crutons, fresh parm, fresh dressing (Bolthouse Farms makes a great vegetarian option without any fish) and a pepper grinder. Grab a bag of romaine lettuce and you're ready to go.

If you've got any time-friendly pre-game meals to share, let me know and I'll get 'em up here.

Tales from the Royal Bank Cup

The other day, I updated my status on BlackBerry Messenger, saying something like "Now I don't feel so bad for missing the Royal Bank Cup" which some people thought was because my team, the Terriers, didn't do very well. Not the case at all, hehehe, but at first I was pretty bitter to be missing out after the great time I had there last year.

Earlier tonight, I was reading the blog of a certain boy who shall remain nameless, and he was talking about getting locked out of his hotel room in Tokyo. I wasn't in Tokyo, but I was in a little Manitoba town when I had to break into my own room ....

Anyway, let's start at the start. One of my very favourite people in the entire world was playing in the Royal Bank Cup last year, and as I was there working, I got to hang out around the rink a whole ton, but was driving back and forth to my town for work each day ... Until the Thursday. Thursday after work, I left for Dauphin, and arrived in time to work the Thursday evening game. I ended up staying in Dauphin that night, heading back the long way Friday afternoon through Brandon where I stopped to do some shopping. Bought this gem of a hat at Brandon Source for Sports from my boy Justin Perreaux, aka JP.

Tons of hockey players wear this gear -- I have three hats and a hoodie from Gongshow Gear (all of which, except my Shamrock hat were bought at Brandon SFS) but you can also order online. I will write more about Gongshow Gear and Mac & the boys another day.

Anyway, so snagged this stylin' liddy, had a delicious salad from Wendy's for lunch, heard the wicked buzz around town as Wheat City prepped for the upcoming Memorial Cup which was taking place about a week later. Then I headed back home for a snooze, woke up Saturday morning and went back to the Bank.

And that's when everything started to get crazy.

That night, I was standing down by the glass, working away as usual, snapped a wicked pic of my dear friend who was playing in the tourney, made friends with this guy named Gerry who used to be the head ref for the Manitoba Junior Hockey League and was hanging out with my favourite people, the officials, all night.

After the second game, which my friend's team won, I went down to the dressing room to say congrats and wish him luck in the final the next day. I then retreated to the media lounge to fire off the rest of my photos and finish my work. The boy at Hockey Canada I had been working with enquired about if I wanted to hang out after work.

"I'm going out with one of my friends from where I work," I explain. "He's the only person here from town, and I promised I would go have a beer with him." (I meant one of the ref's that was from the town where I worked, but I didn't mention WHY he was there.)

Anyway, so I leave, and go downstairs, throw my computer, camera etc into my trunk and roll back inside to the curling rink, which is attached to the arena as well. The ice had been taken out and a beer gardens was put in, a band was playing and the refs/linesmen were all milling around. My new friend Gerry bought me a beer and I went to sit with him and my boy Garth (and this other fine-lookin' piece of linesman named Derek I had been trying to wheel for days with stunning blue eyes and a whole ton of tattoos) -- everything was rollin' nicely.

Then my hockey canada friend texts me. "Thought you said you were going out with your friend from town?" and I said, "I am. I'm having a beer with him right now."

"Looks to me like you're sitting with the refs ... you know I can see you, right?" I look up. The lounge has a wall of windows overlooking the curling rink. He can see me sitting with them. Awesome.

"Well, you didn't ask me what he was doing here. The guy beside me in the white shirt, that's him. Look it up."

Gerry suggested we go to another party at this hotel across the street, so we go there for a while, and then back to the rink where we meet up with Garth, Woodsy, Derek, Surminski, and a few other people, and Derek wants to know what I'm up to. I tell him I'm going back to my hotel to grab some rum and get changed. I ask if he wants to come for the ride, and he says yes.

So we go back to the motel, I get changed, and come out of the bathroom and Derek is lounging on the one bed. I grab my 26er of rum and say, "Alright, let's go. Garth wants to pre-drink at the hotel" and Derek's like "what!?" haha

So we get back to their hotel, which is attached to this bar, and I see this kid that plays on one of the teams that got eliminated -- he had caught me creeping on him a couple times over the course of the week at the rink, so I didn't want him to see me being super creepy outside the bar. I ended up making friends with some kids from that team and we all decided to go back and have a couple drinks at the motel. So we're hanging out there, watching TV having a rum, shootin' the shit. Was a good time. We stayed there for a while just hanging out, and then one of their teammates called and was like "dude you guys gotta get back to the hotel before coach wakes up" -- So I drop them off back at the hotel, then come back and realise my keys are inside the room still.

It was one of those kind of motels where you have a door right to the outside, little mom-n-pop owned place, nice, but nobody at the front desk at 6:15 a.m. soooo I had to break in. To my own room. With a credit card. With a Tim Horton's and three cop cars in the parking lot within spitting distance. I had only see that done in movies so had no idea whether or not it would work, but I finally managed to get in -- thanks to my M&M meatshop points card haha -- and pass out around 6:30 still in my clothes.

I woke up at 10:40 to hockey canada boy texting me. Checkout was at 11. Crap. I had to get ready, eat and be at the rink by 12:30. It was Sunday. Mother's Day.

I get ready and bail around 11:10, hop in the car and get off to Smitty's where I had to wait what felt like forever for a table. These American guys who were in town on a fishing trip were chatting to me, asking me why it was so busy there and why I was wearing my sunglasses inside. Partied too hard last night? they wanted to know. I just groaned.

Finally, I got to the rink, ran into Gerry before I'd had a chance to run upstairs to the bathroom beside the lounge where I usually put on my makeup. (Not knowing the chick who watched the lounge door had hooked up with Hockey Canada boy the night before ... sly gal haha she asked me how I was feeling. "Like crap!" I had told her.)

Anyway, it was about to get crappier. My buddy's team ended up nose-diving and losing the final game pretty badly. After getting wallopped I went down to the room to see him, and held him tight while his smelly little self cried on my shoulder. I kissed his sweaty forehead and told him it would be alright. I had to get my photos in and back home as I had to work the next day.

On the way home, I picked up a copy of the paper and saw the photo the sports desk had chosen -- it was of my buddy. I was pretty amped.

All in all, it was a totally awesome time. I would've went back this year in a heartbeat.

And while maybe now I don't feel AS bad for missing the Royal Bank Cup, I do still wish a little bit that I could've went.

Congrats to Pembroke for winning this year's installment.

A lil bit old school

One of my girlfriends south of the border once asked me, "Do you know EVERYONE in hockey?" And while I will admit I do know a lot of people, or at least have crossed paths with them, no, I do not know everybody. But everybody in hockey knows everybody by proxy. I cannot remember the last time I watched an NHL game and didn't at least know someone who played with someone on a team. Or they know some buddy of mine I met at some charity game in rural Alberta or at some dive arena in Trois-Rivieres. Here's a little story about someone I don't know personally, but who did play with two very integral people in my life.

Tonight, I was watching the VanCity/Smashville game and while I'm cheering for Van, I had to give a little cheer when Joel Ward scored for the Preds. Likely, your first thought was "who the eff is Joel Ward?" Last week, I was hanging out at a bar in Sault Ste. Marie (small town Canada ... choc full of hockey players, rinks, stories, and good tales for when you meet Tyler Kennedy ... 'i was drinking at this bar in the Soo once...') and I was watching Nashville/Anaheim and heard the announcers say "Joel Ward back for Shane O'Brien" and instead of "who the heck is that" I thought "what the heck is Joel Ward doing on the Nashville Predators!?" (I don't watch Nashville games ... ever. He's been there for two years.)

The natural progression of hockey kinda works like this. If you're "legit sick" as the hockey lads like to say, you'll likely get drafted to major junior as an underager. In the OHL you can play your first year if you're drafted in the first or second round. If you're really good, you'll get drafted when you're 18 to the NHL, and never see a day of American Hockey League action. That happens for people like Sidney Crosby, Taylor Hall, Tyler Seguin and for a d-man or goalie is pretty much impossible. Anyway, for everyone else, after you finish major junior, if you have a brain, and can pass school, a Canadian University team will usually pick you up, the Canadian Hockey League pays for your school, you go for a few years, usually end up riding the buses for a few years in the U-Haul, Central League or some other bushleague, or overseas in Europe. And then hang em up.

Not Joel Ward, boy. He played for the first team I ever cheered for in the history of my life as a hockey fan (there's a small group of people I have a huge soft spot for, and I think he may be one of the only ones that's still playing from that team) ... he went on to play out his University career at UPEI, finished his four years at school and then got signed on with Minnesota's farm team, the Hoston Aeros. From there he worked his way into the NHL and later ended up in Smashville. This is an insane story, and the chances of this happening are next to nothing. But shit like this is why you meet these guys who are nearing 30, missing teeth and still riding the buses in semi-pro leagues making five hundy a week. Because on some flukey right-place-right-time chance, these things do happen for a select few. And like Roy MacGregor said, "The dream never dies; it simply begins again each winter."

Congrats to Joel on his goal tonight. Sorry Smashville, but I'm rootin' for Vancouver for the Cup this year. Them or Tampa. Gotta get behind MY hometown boys, Raffi Torres, Cody Hodgson, Steve Stamkos, and Tampa's director of player personnel (whom I had a chat with in an elevator at the MTS Centre in Winnipeg) Steve Thomas.

You can read more about Wardy's gino tonight here.

Big Wheel

If you know anything about hockey slang, you know what wheeling is ... and I will profess to being a bit of a wheel myself. I'm not as blatant about it as some people, but there's some fun to be had out there, so may as well indulge, right?

The art of wheeling is all about being in the right place, at the right time, and being smooth as fresh ice ;) Hockey players often throw out cheesy lines, or will try to tell you how important/cool/popular they are.

Use this to your advantage.

The other day, I was watching the game on TSN. On the panel, they've been having guests come and yap a bit during the intermissions. Over the weekend, the boy on there caught my eye and I said to my buddy, "who the heck is that boy!? I want me some of him!" and when his name flashed up on the screen, they included his Twitter underneath. Next thing I said is, "Where's your computer?" I did a little Hockey DB and a little Tweet that said something to the degree of "Your pink shirt looks cute."

An hour later, after the game was over. I got a direct message. If you're not familiar with Twitter, it sort of works like this: a Tweet is kind of like writing on someone's facebook wall if you tweet @so-and-so ... aka the world can see it. A direct message is like an inbox. BUT. On Twitter, you can only inbox someone if they follow you. So, hockey player can inbox me because I follow him, but I have to write on his proverbial wall so the entire world can see it.

We have been tweeting back and forth the last couple days, and last night on the panel, he said he liked to hide snacks in his blocker/trapper/knee pads during the third period in games where he was the backup. I tweeted something about "making hotdogs and popcorn for him to eat under the desk on the panel tomorrow night" (meaning tonight, his last night) .. and he tweeted back "nice ;)"

Tonight I wished him well saying safe flight back home .. he's staying in Toronto for a few days, and told me where he may be going for a drink later.

I've never really wheeled on Twitter before but if it's this easy, then I'm gonna keep doing it lol Paul Bissonette is going to be on the panel tomorrow night, and he's a big a wheel as they come. He was at the bar tonight, but my boy didn't make it as the Vancouver game went into overtime. Maybe I'll get to meet the infamous BizNasty?

Shane O'Brien recently got twitter .. if you have twitter, look him up, Obie is a wreck, mess and overall beauty. BizNasty, Upshall, Lupul and a few others are already touting Obie as going to be a big sell on Twitter.

I feel like this is a throwback to the golden oldie days of wheeling on ICQ ... back in the day before Facebook, or MSN, when you could get an ICQ number from voy or a friend and add players at random, chat them up and do what you liked. I used to chat with Dennis Wideman, Brad Boyes, Tomas Plekanec, Mark Popovic and a few others on ICQ (didn't try to pick any of them up ...) but did have some minor success with a few, like TJ Aceti and Rick Nash (who tried to hook up with me but crashed and burned. Ask me about the story some time.)

There are plenty of ways to go about this -- just try not to look like a creep. One guy I know (who I have hooked up with) has Twitter and some girl who's name is "___'s Girl" (his name) and Tweets at him. Awkward. I also threw out there that my current boy knows my neighbour. Just a little piece of info so he knows I'm legit and not awkward. Although wheeling on Twitter still FEELS awkward, he seems to dig it.

And so, I continue to Tweet in public in reply to his awkward private messages .....

I'll let you know how it goes.