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I don't know how it happens. Every winter when the time comes to plug in a heater for my fish pond, I fetch an extension cord out of my garage and it's always tangled up. Whenever it's time to pack it away for the summer, I stretch it out and wrap it up nicely. But when I go to grab it, it's all tangled. Maybe it's like one of those toys in Toy Story that plays when you're not looking. Maybe in the summer this extension cord has a lot of fun.
When I think about the upcoming hockey season I'm like that extension cord. All these different emotions, twisted up. In the coming days or weeks all of this will become detangled, somehow. I think.
Here's what's working, in no particular order:
Resentment. The lockout never made any sense, even through its completion. Super-wealthy players with short careers sat out over small potatoes -- on principle, they'll have you know. The principle being respectable in theory -- business was good, yet here comes a healthy pay cut -- but absurd in reality. Everyone tells you had badly the players "lost" the last lockout, yet all that happened afterward made them wealthier and wealthier. Were they afraid of another "beatdown"?
And here are the owners seemingly unable to figure out how to avoid these crises. In my mind, the owners reach such differing results depending on their markets that the main problem hockey has these stoppages is because of their collective inner conflict.
This new collective bargaining agreement, naturally, did nothing about that. It was yet another pointless and unproductive fight.
Relief. I like hockey. I always have. And I consider myself a Sabres fan. When they play, I want them to win. Further, their existence has been a key reason why I chose to live here as an adult. My wife and I have wonderful memories of the 2006 teams, and I have childhood memories of games at The Aud that I cherish.
And I'm happy for people that benefit financially from there being hockey games here. Truth be told, myself and my colleagues at WGR are among these people. I'm happy for Nancy, my usher in Aisle 18. I'm happy for Gary, the guy that takes my parking pass for home games. I'm happy for my friends at the team that can go back to work.
Jealousy. The driving points in my arguments through the lockout were not based on collective wealth comparisons between hockey and other sports. Rather, they came from common sense. Players thought the owners' offering 43 percent of hockey-related revenue was insulting. Any of us would take that number in our job, in a snap. Hockey players are not household names. A $2.4M average salary for these guys is ridiculous.
I don't want to be sitting at games thinking about that. I imagine though if the Sabres have a particularly rough night I'll be zoning out from my seat, Googling players' contracts and ticket prices.
Excitement. The season, apart from the preface, could be really fun. Games will have added importance -- a welcomed change in the name of competition. A higher percentage of games will be against rivals. I'll miss the occasional East vs. West games only a little bit.
And, the fewer games a league plays the better chance underdogs have at winning. For all the football talk that the nation is constantly obsessing over and drowning in, seasons are so small that a lot of stuff people think they have figured out about their teams is actually much the product of luck. (Note: When you go 13 straight seasons without finishing in the Top 8 in your conference, that's not luck.)
The Sabres shouldn't be bad but they're neither going to be anybody's favorite. If the way they played down the stretch last year is legit, and they stay healthy, they should be a playoff team. Then we'll see.
In the end, I can't predict where my heart will take me. I really don't expect to be spending much time sneering at the Sabres, because if I do that then I won't be able to justify the financial and emotional expense I perenially put into this team. If I'm angry in there I'll want to leave, and I know that down the road I'll want to be there.
When I think about the upcoming hockey season I'm like that extension cord. All these different emotions, twisted up. In the coming days or weeks all of this will become detangled, somehow. I think.
Here's what's working, in no particular order:
Resentment. The lockout never made any sense, even through its completion. Super-wealthy players with short careers sat out over small potatoes -- on principle, they'll have you know. The principle being respectable in theory -- business was good, yet here comes a healthy pay cut -- but absurd in reality. Everyone tells you had badly the players "lost" the last lockout, yet all that happened afterward made them wealthier and wealthier. Were they afraid of another "beatdown"?
And here are the owners seemingly unable to figure out how to avoid these crises. In my mind, the owners reach such differing results depending on their markets that the main problem hockey has these stoppages is because of their collective inner conflict.
This new collective bargaining agreement, naturally, did nothing about that. It was yet another pointless and unproductive fight.
Relief. I like hockey. I always have. And I consider myself a Sabres fan. When they play, I want them to win. Further, their existence has been a key reason why I chose to live here as an adult. My wife and I have wonderful memories of the 2006 teams, and I have childhood memories of games at The Aud that I cherish.
And I'm happy for people that benefit financially from there being hockey games here. Truth be told, myself and my colleagues at WGR are among these people. I'm happy for Nancy, my usher in Aisle 18. I'm happy for Gary, the guy that takes my parking pass for home games. I'm happy for my friends at the team that can go back to work.
Jealousy. The driving points in my arguments through the lockout were not based on collective wealth comparisons between hockey and other sports. Rather, they came from common sense. Players thought the owners' offering 43 percent of hockey-related revenue was insulting. Any of us would take that number in our job, in a snap. Hockey players are not household names. A $2.4M average salary for these guys is ridiculous.
I don't want to be sitting at games thinking about that. I imagine though if the Sabres have a particularly rough night I'll be zoning out from my seat, Googling players' contracts and ticket prices.
Excitement. The season, apart from the preface, could be really fun. Games will have added importance -- a welcomed change in the name of competition. A higher percentage of games will be against rivals. I'll miss the occasional East vs. West games only a little bit.
And, the fewer games a league plays the better chance underdogs have at winning. For all the football talk that the nation is constantly obsessing over and drowning in, seasons are so small that a lot of stuff people think they have figured out about their teams is actually much the product of luck. (Note: When you go 13 straight seasons without finishing in the Top 8 in your conference, that's not luck.)
The Sabres shouldn't be bad but they're neither going to be anybody's favorite. If the way they played down the stretch last year is legit, and they stay healthy, they should be a playoff team. Then we'll see.
In the end, I can't predict where my heart will take me. I really don't expect to be spending much time sneering at the Sabres, because if I do that then I won't be able to justify the financial and emotional expense I perenially put into this team. If I'm angry in there I'll want to leave, and I know that down the road I'll want to be there.
It's that I don't have a map for that road that unsettles me.