Relative Something

As many distractions as I mustered to keep from solely focusing on sports outcomes yesterday, the negative vibes of witnessing the abuse that referees allowed to continually occur in last night’s hockey game between Minnesota and North Dakota left me stewing. It’s too bad, given I had a great start to the sunny, warm March day, taking a long, brisk walk with Cyndie that worked wonders to stretch out the ol’ hamstring and lift my spirits. Plus, there’s that news which broke about an hour before the hockey game had even started that the basketball team is in this year’s NCAA Tournament! Such a shame that all that good potential got lost in the angst of my suffering the malicious intentions displayed that seem to have a history of occurring in games I’ve witnessed involving the Dave Hakstol coached UND Souix. It frustrates me to the extreme.

I truly love the game of hockey, but I have never understood the culture of allowance for post-whistle chippy activity that permeates the sport at most all levels. That fighting is still woven into the NHL and other professional leagues is mind boggling enough, but then the game barely looks any different in the levels below where fighting is supposedly not allowed. It starts with checks that would earn unsportsmanlike penalties in most other sports, and includes post-whistle punches, stick hacks, and passive aggressive intentional contact that deftly provokes under a guise of innocence. Nine times out of ten, the officials just skate in and separate all the players, as if that will end it. Ridiculous.

I dream of someday watching a game where every time a player smacks a stick or pushes their glove into a player’s face mask after the whistle has blown, they get sent to the penalty box without hesitation. I’m pretty sure they would get the message real quick. Imagine what the game could be like if they had to channel all that miscreant behavior into actual skating, passing and shooting the puck.

A fan can dream, can’t he?