The Embarrassment of Being Unable to Change My Washington Capitals License Plates
It has been sometime since I’ve posted on either of my blogs. It may be quite a while, if ever, that I post again. The circumstances of my life have regressed to the point where I am, yet again, having to focus on getting through minutes of a day. In some ways, I’m grateful I have already had the experience of doing this, so upon greeting this occasion, I am far more practiced. My ability to use the internet and the state of my available technology is such that I am currently taking care of alerting those who communicate with me through anything other than cell phone and in-person conversation that my options are quickly becoming even more limited. For now, it is what it is, so please understand if I don’t respond to tweets or e-mails.
I’m also using this last bit of time left before internet simply won’t be a viable option, for however long (could be forever for all I know), to dish out some cold truth to any hockey fan who may stumble across this post. It may be necessary to read/watch at least the last three or four entries on this blog to get some backstory, but I’ll leave that up to you. You may not want to take the time and that is your perogative. I begin with a last-minute chance I got to see a live hockey game. I don’t get this chance often and do not foresee getting the chance again, so I was elated to find out someone who knows my full-blown love of hockey helped me get a ROW B seat at the Verizon Center to see the Tampa Bay Lightning play live.
That’s right, I went to the Verizon Center in Washington D.C. to see the Tampa Bay Lightning. Again, reading a few previous posts will help you understand why I didn’t go to see the Washington Capitals play. In the interest of brevity, I’ll start right at the point of my entrance into the Verizon Center on Friday, January 13, 2012. This was the second of back-to-back Bolts games who had just played a “not-so-great” game against the Hurricanes the night before. Most Lightning related details will be left at a bare minimum, since technically, I write for Bolts By The Bay and all Bolts related content is promised to that effort. I realize I’ve not posted there for a while due to my circumstances, but that I will also handle very soon and doesn’t have any bearing on this post.
After spending years in the Verizon Center wearing “home” colors, January 13 was the first time I’d been at a hockey game wearing “enemy” colors. I was proud to be wearing my “Martin St. Louis 26″ T-shirt though and not phased in any way to be in the position of being “blue” while most were “red”. I’m a very proud Lightning fan and will have no problem saying to any Capitals fan for any reason. Also, I had been in “red” plenty of times and didn’t get treated very well, so at least this time around, if a Caps fan wanted to be rude and nasty to me, there would be more appropriate reason. I’ve never been more proud of the shirt I was wearing (other than my Kolzig Jersey and that was because of him, not the team) while at the Verizon Center. I simply can’t afford a Bolts jersey, but the Marty “home color” jersey was plenty good enough for me.
I was an “invading” fan and I understood that, so I expected “chirping” and unfriendly comments. Sadly, I got that when I was a “friendly” too. I was prepared for the Capitals fans and again, proud, to bring some “Thunder” to DC in support of the Lightning. I found out before the puck even dropped for opening face-off that I was wrong. I was not prepared for the Capitals fans. Some of the Capitals fans would not do and say the things that I got to experience. To them I say, “I know, but you are in the minority, especially in the LL seats these days.” To the rest, you are the reason I am unhappy to be in the position I am, because I cannot afford to get regular license plates and must operate a motor vehicle with Washington Capitals plates, linking me in some small way to you.
First load of disrespect spoken to me had to do with Martin St. Louis. A Caps fan leans down to me and states very loudly directly in the presence of his daughter (early teens if that), “Hey sweetheart, you and “Saint Lewis” are just the right height for cocksucking.” In my head, I was having a small chuckle about that, because the very last place that person would want to put his “manhood” would be near my teeth. I also figured Marty would probably feel similar about that statement. I let it go and focused on the game, like I always do when I go to see a hockey game. I’m always there for the hockey. Always.
Next came the females in the row in front of me. Their nickname for me was “Tampa Bay”. I felt pretty good about “representing”, so even though they also said many derrogatory things about me (slut, idiot, bitch, blah, blah, blah), I concentrated on the game and just held onto the fact that I was now “Tampa Bay”. I rather liked being “Tampa Bay”. There were “chirps” of different variaties aimed at me all game from the majority of my section. Many of them were fairly tame in the grand scheme of things, so hearing Vinny Lecavalier being called a “pussy” and getting told that my team was a bunch of losers over and over again became humorous to me. I knew better.
It also didn’t surprise me in the slightest when the most vocal of the Caps fans who spent much of the game giving me a hard time started cheering on John Carlson for fighting Steve Downie. There were many things going on in my head when Steve Downie dropped the gloves. 1) “Holy crap, why is Alzner fighting? (not John Carlson “chirpy” Caps fans…don’t even know your own team) 2) “Alzner must be pretty worked-up to be fighting. This must be his first NHL fight.” 3)”The Caps “fans” can keep cheering on John Carlson, but I’m rooting for Downie even if it’s quite a site seeing Alzner get into it” 4) “Downie did land a punch on Alzner when he was already down, so technically, Downie broke the “code” a bit there. 5) “The Caps “fans” are still rooting for John Carlson who isn’t the one fighting and I’m still happily backing Downie no matter how interesting it is that Alzner’s in his first NHL fight or that I just saw Downie land a punch when Alzner’s down…Go get ‘em…I love my team…a lot.”
The three periods of trash talk aimed at me wasn’t essentially the problem. The problem was men talking about me and Marty St. Louis “cock sucking” in front of young females and kids who are there to see a hockey game. The problem was the guy who said that right before face-off, also felt it was necessary to repeat the exact same thing again in the third period, but much more loudly and then proceeded to inform his young daughter that “this is how you handle the stupid bitches who come to hockey games trying to get with faggots.” It gets worse, so take this warning now. You will be offended in one way or another and continuing to read is at your own risk.
After the Bolts had scored on a power play (on the road no less), I was very happy. This was an important power play goal considering the difficulties the Bolts had had previously, especially on the road. The goal had to be reviewed though, so a few Caps fans didn’t think it was a goal at first. I was waiting for the reivew to come back as a “a goal” and during that small amount of time a Caps fan leaned over two rows to say, “Hey, the Tampa Bay girls must be high on their own pussy juices. They can’t even tell when their team doesn’t score goals.” This was then directly proceeded by a different male fan from somewhere behind me yell, “Show us your tits. I bet Tampa Bay girls have sweet nipples.” How am I able to put quotation marks around these things you may ask? I am 100% sure of these quotes because Caps fans, everything you said to me was recorded. You have ZERO expectation of privacy in a public place, especially a hockey game being shown on television.
It gets better folks. At one point, another male fan behind me and to the left threw a piece of trash at me to get my attention. I did not turn around, but he insisted on saying this, “I know you can hear me “Tampa Bay” and I don’t give a shit if you turn around or not. When the Caps beat your team you can come up here and lick my sweaty nut sack. I might let you do it twice if you beg me for more.” At this point, I hope that at least one or two of you reading this are wondering what, if anything, any of the Caps “fans” comments have anything to do with a hockey game. I have yet to find any evidence that this type of “fan” activity has anything to do with a hockey game whatsoever. Alas, there is more and again, please take caution in reading further.
Just at the point where every good part of my well-practiced and well-honed self restraint had gone and I was ready and willing to turn around and take out as many “red” fans as I could, Vinny scored a very late goal in the 3rd period for the Bolts. I did indeed cheer that goal and point right at the Lightning players who were on the ice and made that goal happen. I did also yell, “Thank you.” I thanked them as loudly as I could for proving that they had that goal in them to themselves, no to mention to the Caps and their fans, but also because that late goal save me from being arrested and being barred from the Verizon Center for life. I was so fired-up, I didn’t care about the consequences. It takes a massive effort for me to get to that state, but thankfully, the Bolts scored in the last remaining seconds of the 3rd.
Even though Tampa Bay did not win that game on paper, they won it in my mind for sure. They dominated the last periods for the most part and they did me proud in many ways. I wanted the score to reflect otherwise, but I was the happiest fan I can remember ever being with my team, win or lose. I was ready to leave that place however, so I hurried up the steps and began taking the right to head to the ladies room before getting out of that hostile, rude, unsavory arena, never to return again. Just as I turned, a drunk male Caps fan who must have intentionally sought me out was on me and fast. He had to be at least a good foot taller than me (I’m about 5’4″) and was rather broad in many ways. Let’s defined his a big guy. He walked with me as I headed to the bathroom, bending down to get his face right in mine. I just kept walking. So did he.
Bent down and in my face, still walking to stay with me, this person actually said this (are you ready?): “Your team lost. Your team aren’t winners like the Caps are winners. Your team sucks. They can’t win because Guy Boucher is probably too busy getting it up the ass to be a good coach. (There’s more…) I bet his dick still smells like shit when he’s behind the bench from freash ass. (oh, he’s not finished).” As he managed to get almost entirely in front of me and as I managed to just keep walking to get to the bathroom, doing my best to simply pretend I didn’t want to end his life, he got even close to my face and said, “Let me smell your breath; probably smells like shit from sucking Guy Boucher’s shit covered cock.” Then he laughed and make two “sniffs”.
To any who may ever have a reason to run across me in this life, I will honestly tell you that the way I look is going to get you in a hospital one day. I may look like I’m not about to turn 40. I may be “fun-size”. I may be a female. These things “trick” your eyes into making your brain believe that I cannot put a hurt on you that may be the last “hurt” you will ever know. I’m not tough. I’m not aggressive. I’m a person who has had to defend herself and defend her own life. I’m a person who has had some training with regard to stopping another person from inflicting bodily harm. I’m a “real” hockey fan. All I had to do to that drunk fan, no matter how big he was, was quickly and with one well-delivered strike, put a single, pointed knuckle with enough force into his very exposed wind pipe. One precise move, executed on an unsuspecting man whose reflexes are far below normal due to alcohol and the incorrect perception that one little woman has no way to hurt him could drop him and land him in an emergency room, fighting for life.
I think I showed a great deal of restraint and even if I probably would have lept into a pile of “red” shirts if Vinny hadn’t scored that goal. I think I handled the situation extremely well. I also know I will not make any attempt on my own to ever visit the Verizon Center, evern for hockey. If the opportunity should ever present itself, it will take some serious incentive to get me in the Verizon Center again. Mostly, and the reason I took whatever time I have left with the internet and a laptop that should not even still function at all today to post this, I am embarrassed to be associated with anything Washington Capitals related. I am appalled at the disrespect thrown at me, at Martin St. Louis and especially at the Guy Boucher comments from a drunk person whose mamma did not raise him right. I don’t think I need to defend the comments made about the Lightning of the coach, because they are men and can take care of themselves, but I still, to this day find the disrespect to them, and me of course, vile and pure trash.
Nothing about hockey has anything to do with much of what many Capitals fans say and do. Nothing. I know there are Capitals fans who are probably not at all happy about this post either. Not all Caps fans are like the one’s I’ve experienced (even when I was one), but nowadays, hockey is not real reason many of them are there. I’m not proud of my license plates. It bothers me to be seen supporting the Capitals. If I weren’t fighting a minute-by-minute fight just to stay alive, I’d be rid of my license plates as fast as is humanly possible.
I’m proud to be a Tampa Bay Lightning fan. I’ve had issues with Bolts fans too, but fans get upset with every sport and my team makes me happy. I put my hockey love where it belongs. Win or lose, my hockey love is with the Tampa Bay Lightning…to the very end.
Go Bolts – peace – mia firstname.lastname@example.org and Twitter @creasesinger