The Great Equalizer

True confession:  I didn't get hooked on hockey only because of excitement of the game; the players aren't so bad to look at either.


(I'll apologize to any men reading this in advance, and it shouldn't happen again.  You can keep reading, though--there's a chance I might bring it back around.  Think of it as payback for all the commercials I've sat through with the Labatt Blue Light girls; it's been more than my fair share.)

As a freshman girl, of course I noticed which players were good-looking.  My favorite in the beginning was our goalie Ken Wregget.  Even though my dad would argue that Barrasso was the better and more statistically sound goalie, he could also euphemistically be referred to as the more private of the pair; at least Wregget didn't alienate himself from the media and fans.

My neighbor and his son, my brother and I drove to Ohio, where a local mall was hosting not only a sports card and memorabilia show, but also featured Wregget signing autographs.  When my turn came, he attempted to make small talk.  I couldn't ask him about his children, Courtney and Nicholas; I couldn't compliment him on any of his best saves;  I couldn't even discuss the weather because it all came down to this:  I couldn't even remember my name.  Needless to say, I did not walk away with a personalized message.

Obviously, not every player is visually appealing.  But even Evgeni Malkin gets a little sexier with each goal scored, every time he stickhandles through four opposing players, or with each shot he rips from the right circle.  The combination of strength and skill and agility can have the same effect.

Appreciation for the players doesn't mean I don't have an appreciation for the game.

One of my coworkers who follows the Flyers referred his team ending the Penguins' winning steak earlier this season.  He pointed out that our teams were sure to have more ugly encounters before it was all said and done.  "At least we have Sidney's scoring streak," I told him.  "Sidney Crosby..." I began, but he cut me off.

"Sidney Crosby is your future husband?" he finished for me.

"No," I said.  "Sidney Crosby is just a kid (and I am by no means a cougar).  What I was going to say was, 'Sidney Crosby is going to be hard to stop, and the team that ends his streak will likely need to shut out the Pens to do it.'"  When it did happen, of course, the Islanders handed us a 2-1 shoot out loss.

On a final note, regardless of looks or skill, an equalizer does exist among the players, goalies aside.  Simply put:  headgear.  Once they're strapped in, you can't tell if they have hair or not (except for players like Scott Hartnell--I'm not sure how he fit all that hair under the helmet; I thought he might be striving toward Polamalu-like stature, until he finally chopped it in October); once mouthpieces are inserted, can you really tell who's missing teeth?

And the greatest equalizer of all?  The lovely smell of hockey gloves and pads.  Facewash, anyone?