"You can check out any time you like... but you can never leave." (Henley & Frey)
Last night was a night of firsts. First win of the season for the team, first win for MacDonald, and first NHL win for Coach Gordon. Great job guys! Before I lay out my blow-by-blow analysis OF the game - let me talk about my experience AT the game. Let me preface this by saying I am a season ticket holder who also pays for an additional 21 game plan to bring my 3 sons to games. So I am invested here - I am a dedicated fan who "antes up" and supports the franchise - and in light of the recent implosion of the stock market, we all know how hard it is to back up the Brinks truck and dump a load of cash for hockey tickets. Alright - I made that decision - so I ain't looking for sympathy (cause I ain't getting any) and I am not suffering from buyer's remorse. But, I literally feel like I am paying to go to a party at a trailer park! The Coliseum is a complete and utter dump.
Let's start by talking about the parking situation. Since I bought season tickets - I get to park in the special pre-paid parking lot. One might think this is a nice added bonus - but parking at the Coliseum is just miserable - special lot or not. First - as I approach from the east on Hempstead Tpk I see a big electric sign telling me that the pre-paid lots are closed and everyone must use the general admission lot. Of course, once I weave my way through this sea of jackasses behind the wheel of various vehicles the size of ocean-liners, I notice a wave of cars rolling through the pre-paid parking entrance! What the...? So, I've barely entered the Coliseum grounds and I've already been lied to. So I park, put on my jogging sneakers, pack an overnight bag, and make the long trek across the windswept tundra known as "the Coliseum parking lot." After using my sextant, refilling the canteens a few times, and navigating through an army of scalpers, I finally reach the tomb... I mean the Coliseum. Then, lines you wait on just to get into that miserable heap of concrete!! Everyone frantically sucking on their cigarettes trying to squeeze the last drop of nicotine out before going inside while my kids stand there in a cloud of cancer while their clothes absorb the stench of Marlboro. How pleasant.
Finally, you pass through the turnstile and you can almost feel the transformation -- and I am not referring to some cheesy sports experience here, or some lame magical transformation where some fairy godmother (or hockey mom) dressed in orange & blue smacks you with her hockey stick and makes you an Isles fan. No! I am referring the transformation from man to beast. I can immediately relate to and sympathize with the millions of cattle, horse, chicken, or other livestock that spends time standing closer to its fellow species than it desires. I won't even mention the menagerie of odors you get to sample in this cross-section of humanity. The choice of direction is not mine - I am quickly absorbed into the crowd and it feels like 5:00 pm on the LIE. We move en-mass, elbow-to-elbow, shoulder-to-shoulder, and I just shuffle along with a line of people that resembles a giant anaconda slowly weaving its way through the jungles of the Amazon. All the while I'm praying that the tug I feel on the bottom of my Isles jersey is my kid's hand and not some pervert's pathetic attempt to cop a feel. Next, comes the dismount. "There is the entrance to our section," I proudly announce to my kids - who thankfully are still in tow; however, the look on their faces tells me they've clearly had a more aromatically offensive journey than I since their little heads are parallel to the gastro-propulsion section of the adults.
Alas, our journey is complete - we finally make it to our seats. We climb over the 2 elderly gents, trying not to kick over their beer or brush against their pretzels drenched in mustard. We collapse into our seats and are only moments from the opening ceremonies when one of my boys announces that he has to go to the bathroom. He might as well have kicked me in the groin! My head starts to throb just thinking about going back down the soda & beer slicked steps to the one of the most disgusting rooms on the face of the earth -- a men's bathroom at a sports arena. Of course, I can't take one kid and leave the other 2 at their seats in this era where kid-touchers seem to be hiding everywhere, wearing disguises like priest collars, scoutmaster uniforms, and nice older guys in plaid. We gingerly tip-toe down the steps and re-enter the madding shuffle of people wandering around the perimeter of the Coliseum. We find the men's room fairly easily - it's the only place where the circulating wave of humans has come to a stop - then creeps forward like an assembly-line, step-by-step. But good luck finding where this line ends. After trying to decipher which line I need to get on - it seems like the line for beer, the Premio sausage stand, and the bathroom all blend together. Strangely, it seems logical to me that these lines all should intersect. I must say though - I've seen shorter lines at Disney World.
I don't think I need to go into the nuances & gymnastics that need to be employed to keep your kids from using their hands to touch ANYTHING in the men's room. They become chimp-like, using their feet to flush, push doors, etc. No matter how careful you are, you always leave feeling like millions of toxic germs, bacteria, and splashes of bodily fluids have stowed away on your kids' sneakers and other parts of their anatomy.
Then back out to the sea of humanity, pushing, shoving, and shuffling along - just trying to get back to their seats or to fill their guts with a $5 hot dog. If the above trip were to take place during the period - you can be certain to miss out on at least 5-6 minutes of action and sometimes, half a period. And that's if you only go to the loo. If you have to drain the pipes AND buy something for the ole pie-hole... well, you can kiss half a period goodbye. So yes, you can get up from your seat any time you want... but can you truly leave and not have it seriously & negatively impact your game experience? Of course not. You go anywhere else in the NHL and you do not get nearly the same miserable experience. This is not the fault of the Isles, Charles Wang, or even Mad Mike Milbury (although we can blame him for so many other debacles, why not this one too). It is the sad reality that the Coliseum is just not a suitable building for a professional sports team. I am not speaking out of school here - Isles management acknowledges that the facility blows.
The current Isles management places a lot of emphasis on making the games a fan-friendly experience, and they do a great job with the things they can control - but the building, that is another story. To quote Elizabeth Taylor - "What a dump." Even so, YES, I will continue to drag my rear end into that concrete tomb we affectionately call the Coli. And YES, it does have some great sight lines. And YES, I hope the Isles continue to play well. But NO, I will not "enjoy" the various & many shortcomings while I am there.
The only thing that makes me feel better is...... "up ahead in the distance, I saw a shimmering light." That light is the beam of salvation that shines from a Lighthouse. I just hope its not a mirage... and that I can afford to get in.
Next up... analysis of Games 1 & 2.
MLD
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