True

I realize that maybe some of my more recent posts have been, um, a little heavy on the fantasy elements. And while I enjoy writing pieces that have absolutely no basis in reality, it's symptomatic of 1. weather that's hot enough to make you kill someone and 2. a total lack of hockey.

But!!! No more!!! This post is absolutely, completely, 100% the absolute gospel truth!!! Yes!!! Exclamation points!!!

Monday, Monday. It wasn't the best of days. Sunday night, sometime between 7 p.m. and midnight, one of my dear pet birds and fellow 'Dogs fan (yes, he listened attentively to all the games over the internet when I was living in a teeny-tiny apartment in Champaign, IL) died. Monday I took him back to my home and buried him, which was sad (and not easy! Try digging a grave in 90-degree weather!)

I still had hope that Monday was going to be a great day. Why??? Because I was Going To See Actual Hockey. I heard about the Minnesota 4 on 4 Hockey Pro/College League through the college hockey grapevine (probably The UMD Penalty Box) and decided to go over and check out some of the 'Dogs players, new and old. It was going to be a fun day, I was certain.

It was pouring down rain when I jumped in Mr. Zippy (the vehicle that replaced the Grocery Getter of Death) and headed out on 62E for West St. Paul. Anyone who is going to chastise me for taking 62E during rush hour should know that I didn't even know where West St. Paul WAS until Monday (I had a ROUGH idea... you know, west of St. Paul), so I had to put all my trust in Mapquest. I sat in traffic for heaven knows how long, and then once I got out of traffic, I made a wrong turn. I figured it out almost immediately, as I ended up in some teeny tiny town that looked straight out of central Illinois, which is scary. The arena was easy enough to find, but since I thought I already missed the first game, I'd go find some place to eat.

Here's the real truth: I drive like a jerk. Not a cut you off, tailgate, refuse to let you merge jerk. Just a where the heck am I going, oh wait that was a curb, hmm now I missed my turn, let's do this all again...twice kind of jerk. (Typical woman driver, you say? Oh no, honey, I am not typical at all. On the road, I'm just scary.) All I wanted was a m-f McDonald's, but it wasn't meant to be. After driving over 2 curbs, I ended up at the local B.K. Six of one, I guess.

I went back to the arena only to discover the first game was still going on. Excellent! I was giddy (giddy!!!) at the thought of seeing Team #2's All-Star Awesome Guy (sarcasm does not count as a lie!), none other than Dan "Zero Points" Kronick himself. I picked up a program and started checking off numbers on the roster. Okay, there's Bobby G. in net (giving up 11 goals and still pulling out the win in OT... oddly familiar), and Nate Dey (potentially a hottie for next year? Hmmm...), and T.J. McElroy, and over on the other team, Mike Zacharias is in net, oh, hey there Evan Kaufmann I HATE YOU how's it going? and... and... WHERE WAS HE? WHERE WAS KRONICK???? WHAT HAPPENED??? What a disappointment.

Fine, whatever, I don't need to see the White All-St. Cloud All-Night Competitive Eating Team (sponsored by Seattle Sutton's Healthy Eating) vs. the Gold Ivy League/Misc. Minnesota Lodge Historians (sponsored by Pine Beach Lodge) in their Overtime Power Play Extravaganza. I wanted to see some 'Dogs.

There was another dude there wearing some UMD gear, but we sort of awkwardly avoided each other. I had a UMD sweatshirt on when I went into the actual rink, but I was also rockin' the sequins and designer jeans, because hey, I can be fabulous! even at a hockey game. Or a semi-game, with only 5 players a side and no checking. While the Blue and Maroon (!!!) teams stretched on the ice, I fielded a call from DA who was in the vicinity and was coming to join me. I feigned an intimate knowledge of southeastern suburbia and directed him. "Don't you know where Robert Street is??? Geez, it's soooo easy." I mean, like, come on Dad, get with the freaking program or something, DUH!!!

Okay, back in the ice arena, the game started, and I started checking off guys. Hmm... there's some dork from junior hockey... and there's a guy from D3 hockey, and yep, that guy's from Maine, but who's this guy? His number isn't on the roster! What? Neither is this guy!

And one by one, I checked off each of the 22 players there... and there wasn't a single Bulldog among them. I suppose there could be a few, wearing the wrong jerseys, but the whole POINT of a JERSEY and a ROSTER THAT WAS PRINTED OUT BY THE GUYS WHO RUN THIS THING is for those of us who don't know/can't tell what a player LOOKS LIKE to IDENTIFY THEM for the purposes of STALKING SCOUTING.

So I'm sorry. I don't have anything to report, I didn't get a sneak peak at Palm or Akins, didn't get to see Carroll or Greer, and didn't get to take a walk down memory lane with Hambly. I DIDN'T EVEN GET TO GLARE AT DAN KRONICK UNTIL HE SPONTANEOUSLY COMBUSTED.

Ugh.

P.S. Bruce, I think they made this league just for your wife... 4 on 4, the whole time!