The End of the Road

So we've all heard by now that Bruce Ciskie is no longer tUMD's play-by-play announcer, nor is he sports director for the Twin Ports Lame Fascist Jerk Communications Company. Why anyone would want to work for such a company is beyond me, and perhaps they should change their name, but whatever. Also why any company would be so ignorant as to think People Don't Like Sports is beyond my comprehension, and there are pretty much only two or three other things that are beyond my comprehension: the nature of the universe; why people still have mullets, especially curly mullets; and... well, okay, there's only those other two. Oh yeah, there was why bad things happen to good people, but I figured that out already.

I didn't comment sooner because I didn't really know what to say. If some ignorant, barely upright hicks eliminated my job, you better believe I wouldn't be telling any of you people; I'd be licking my wounds in private. (I'm flexible.) I think it would be absolute agony if the entire college hockey community knew I'd lost my job. I didn't want to write about it because I wasn't sure it was the right thing to do or even necessary; Bruce wasn't afforded the luxury of keeping this to himself. But yet, such is the nature of a career in the public eye, and I am a vulture who will capitalize on anything I can, so here we are. Late, but not never. Later, we shall decide if that's better or not.

Bruce is my friend and has also been my source of Bulldog trivia and information over the past few years. The first time Bruce commented on my blog was some sort of (in hindsight pathetic) validation for RWD; it also commenced a long-standing campaign of mine for Bruce to 1. sneak me on the bus for road trips 2. get me on the air and 3. tell me what the guys look like shirtless. It was a mutually beneficial partnership, because without my frantic, sweaty text messages, none of you listening in internet radio land would hear any of the games broadcast, because I was always quick to alert him if the Switch of Doom and Destruction had been flipped or not. I imagine if things do not improve I will not live much longer because I will explode if the radio does not work this weekend. I have been stressing about this series since... I guess Saturday as soon as the St. Cloud game ended. Mr. Papas, give me your cell number.

Oh, wait. That'll never happen, because I doubt this guy even knows that RWD exists. I really want to give him a chance, but it's just not going to be the same. When Kerry left, he had been the voice of Bulldog hockey for a generation and he definitely left a void not easily filled. (Hello, Kerry, in case you are reading. You rock!) But what Bruce brought to the mic was an entirely different perspective: Kerry was/is a fan; Bruce is a fan geek. He posted on message boards and blogged and nerded out like so many of us out there. So it was kind of like one of us (yes, if you are reading this, you are a fan geek, I'm sorry) out there on the air, telling our dumb USCHO jokes and bringing the sarcasm like only a jaded message board jockey could bring it. So, in other words, Bruce was totally relatable.

There were good times and bad times. We had "AND HERE COME THE TEDDY BEARS!!!!" and then we had the game of Crazy Pepe's Chug 'n' Skate that followed. We had McFarland goals and then the eventual overturning or re-assigning. We had Nisky scoring goals for us and against us. We had Rik and Judd. Or, Judd and Rik, depending on your point of view. And... wasn't there another guy? I don't even remember. We had play-off upsets in Denver and we had the triple overtime loss in St. Cloud. It's been a rough few years, and I can't think of anyone better to get us through the, um, challenges of the past few seasons than someone who I can commiserate with.

Thanks, among other things, for being a homer, the Player Profile, the Coach's Show (when it existed, and now I understand its absence), the game-break messages, Email the Booth, myriad near-death experiences on the wintry roads of the Upper Midwest, being weaker than MEg's mom, the mixed sports metaphors, the Gauntlet, the jabs at the refs, finally answering my request for the audio files, and your unflagging optimism and support for every player on tDogs these past few years, especially the seniors who you have been following since their first days in a Bulldog jersey. And welcome back to the message boards, I guess.

And, because I'm creepy, I'll dedicate a parting song to you. (When they say "girl" just pretend they're saying "Bruce.")

Did anyone else ever wonder if that guy with the cane really needed it, or if it was a prop? Or am I really even more pathetic than previously known?