From Top Shelf To Food Shelf Year Six Six Six
By now, #FTSTFS is part of college hockey lore, but in case you recently came out of a nuclear fallout shelter where you’ve been living since 1975, let me assist you with an explanation of what this is all about:
Comrades, the time has come once more for the annual From Top Shelf To Food Shelf pledge drive. Unfamiliar with how this started? Read the origin story here.
You make a pledge. Your team plays hockey. You fulfill your pledge. It’s so easy.
Did you know that last year, as a group, we surpassed the $10,000 mark? Cumulatively, college hockey fans have come together to raise $10,624.65 and 594 ancillary items. This is officially a big freaking deal, thanks to some really cool people. People like you!
My own pledge this year is $5 per tUMD goal and $5 per FTSTFS participant. So simply making a pledge of your own is worth $5 before the weekend has even started!
Here are the rules of engagement:
- Dream up a pledge based on the performance of your hockey team on the weekend of December 7/8/9. The pledge can be related to anything that can be quantified (and something I can easily look up). Goals, wins, saves, PIM, etc. Most pledges are money, but some are cans of food, hams, jars of peanut butter (warning: PB is expensive), or clothing items (socks, hats, gloves, etc). Please refrain from making the pledge overly complex.
- Choose a charity in your community or in the community in which your team plays. I live in St. Paul, but my teams are in Duluth. I chose a charity in Duluth (CHUM). If you live in Kampala, Uganda and cheer for AIC, you could choose a charity in Kampala or one in Springfield.
- Click this link to go to the official pledge form! It’s so easy! Answer a few simple questions and your pledge is recorded. I will do my best to handle pledges made in other ways, but I would hate to miss one, so please just use the form. There is an option to make your pledge anonymous as well. I will know you’ve made the pledge, but won’t share your name.
- Spread the word. Evangelize on your blog, your social media platforms (#FromTopShelfToFoodShelf!), and even in real life, if you interact with others in that way. This is a great way to help even if you have made contributions elsewhere or you are unable to contribute materially.
- Tally up what you owe. I keep track on a spreadsheet, but I don’t send out reminders or updates. If you ask directly, I can verify your total. If you choose to round up or if you need to modify your pledge, please tell me.
- **Donate directly to the charity you’ve selected.** I don’t collect the money. I trust that you will make this donation.
(I know not every team plays next weekend, so if you would like to participate anyway, we can work something out, whether that’s making a pledge this upcoming weekend, or hitching you up to a team’s bandwagon.)
Please join in the festivities in any way you can, whether that pledges or publicity. No contribution is too small! It is so fun to be part of something bigger than one’s self – watching my friends across the college hockey world getting into the spirit warms my cold black heart.
Can You Hear Me, Major Tom?
All told, this was not a great weekend for tUMD sports. On Friday, the volleyball team lost in the regional semi-finals, then women’s hockey lost to duhOSU, and then the men were shut out by Denver. Saturday, the football team lost their home playoff game, the women’s hockey team was swept, and the Wild blew a 2-0 lead, letting former Wild player Jason Pominville score the game winner with a minute and a half left – not a Bulldog game per se, but certainly a game that many Bulldogs fans watched and were disappointed by. (The good news for us here is that while Phil Housley may have won in Minnesota, his wife didn’t!)
So it’s understandable that most Bulldogs fans were in A Mood by the time the men’s hockey game began on Saturday evening. Obviously I was, since anyone who follows my Twitter feed knows that I am a glass case of emotion during hockey games. I imagine for some it’s a form of entertainment itself, watching my violent mood swings. tUMD hasn’t beaten Denver in awhile, they were shut out the night before despite reports that they were playing well, and with all the bad sporting news occurring over the weekend, I guess I started watching the game already in a black hole of despair. There’s really only one way to deal with that kind of attitude, and that’s with pessimistic, sarcastic, dark humor.
I’d like to point out that 4 of the 6 Yes votes came after tUMD had already scored a goal.
A couple things added to my general frustration/inability to enjoy the game that had nothing to do with the game itself. First, I was very hungry, which as we are all aware, leads to hanger. No, not like a coat hanger, that’s what Americans are going to need in order to exercise their right to reproductive freedom once the fascists in government fully execute their misogynistic plan. In this context, hanger = hunger + anger. And that shizz is real, people.
The second problem I was having was a technological problem. One of the serious downsides to moving away from Duluth was losing access to some of the various media forms I used to consume tUMD hockey. Specifically, local simulcasts and actual radio. There was no local simulcast this time, so I didn’t miss out on that, but the livestream I was forced to listen to started out several minutes behind the actual game. I understand there’s going to be a lag between the live game and any broadcast of the game – I often see a tweet about something happening in a Wild game many seconds before it is shown on the television. But there is at least a 2 minute delay between what happens in tUMD men’s hockey games live, and when it is broadcast on the internet stream. This is absurd.
Finally, there was a sub-problem to problem #2, one that I don’t normally experience but that cause a major issue last night. Multiple times during the broadcast, the game did not return from commercial break. The first time it happened, tUMD was already down 2-0, and Denver was going on the PP, because of course they are angels who never do anything wrong and simply sneezing near a DU player is going to result in a penalty. Never mind that the most egregious and destructive penalty I’ve ever seen live was committed by a Denver player… After enduring 8-9 minutes of commercials, the feed returned and went right into the intermission report. So I missed several minutes of actual game play. While I didn’t want the game to continue to lag farther and farther behind, I also didn’t like missing any of the action. There’s no point in staying off Twitter to avoid spoilers when I’m not going to get any of the action anyway. People had to suffer, deprived of my caustic wit, and for no earthly reason!
After it got to be 3-0, I decided to just give up and go all in on stupid jokes, GIFs, and mocking those less fortunate than me (Gopher football and their jejune head coach). Being unkind and snarky is endlessly enjoyable to me, because I am a small, sad person with a heart two sizes too small, and proud of it.
It me.
Eventually things started to come back around for me. It was still 3-0, but there are certain points where I don’t care so much that an inflection point is reached, and I go from not caring to not not caring, which is not the same as caring. It’s difficult to explain, but I’ll illustrate with a tweet from last night:
What does this even mean? No one knows. I was actually looking for a gif of my fave, the Night King, because I was trolling Let’s Go DU, and I happened upon this one instead. There’s probably a German word for this feeling I experience from time to time, but the best I can say is it’s the feeling you get when you have absolutely nothing left to lose from supporting your team. I don’t know, some people feel like it’s a breach of fan etiquette to cheer for a team when they’re losing, like you’re supposed to file away quietly or switch to sheepishly complimenting the other team. If there’s one thing I do NOT like to do, it’s give credit to opposing teams when it is due. I will leave things like “sportspersonship” and “classiness” to the plebes.
Eventually Nick Swaney scored a goal, so I figured oh, tDogs got their requisite Goal In Denver, we can pack it in and go home satisfied. I suppose it helps that tUMD didn’t beat Denver in 5 tries last year on their way to winning a national championship. That puts things in perspective. Then Billy Exell scored and there was somehow still half a period to go!
The worst thing about the feed being behind during a game is the nagging feeling that in that gray area between the present and the moment in time the broadcast is in, the opponent has scored. This was intensified when Roehl took a penalty and I was sure Denver would score on the PP and dagger our hopes of a comeback. Of course it didn’t happen but it is a constant fear. Those readers from the early days of RWD, back before texting, recall that I used to have to work evenings during my career as a makeup counter jockey (a job I’m supposed to feel ashamed of, but do not, because it was a great job! and also because people shouldn’t be ashamed of their work unless it is unethical or illegal) and would have my father call me on the sales floor to give me score updates. So if tDogs were losing then, and the phone wasn’t ringing, that was basically torture – things have improved since then, but still. We Have The Technology. The feed doesn’t have to be so far behind.
This means that I didn’t get to celebrate the last second, game-tying goal from Scorin’ Scotty – partially because I was behind the internet celebration, and partially because I was spoiled on it by both Twitter and by my phone blowing up with texts from Dan of the Week. It was pretty exciting though! That’s part of what I like about this team so much – they may have off days, and their play may be frustrating to watch at times, but I never ever think it’s because they aren’t trying or doing their best (bests?). I don’t remember the last time I was ever annoyed with the level of effort being put out by members of the team. So it is really great to see that kind of character rewarded with crazy last minute shenanigan goals!
Then Bruce went to a commercial break, promising to come back in “90 seconds” with the overtime call.
And I waited.
And waited.
And waited.
Commercial after commercial after commercial after commercial.
I finally gave up and went back to Twitter to see what was going on, and the game was already over. Cole Koepke, hometown hero, had scored less than a minute in, and tDogs had completed a comeback that will go down in history. It was about as dramatic as they come for a regular season game against a non-heated rival. According to Bruce, the last time tDogs overcame a deficit was in the 03-04 season, against CC, but the comeback had started earlier (also they won 5-3 and not in OT).
I’m happy about the outcome, but annoyed with the technical difficulties. I didn’t even get to hear the goal call until the postgame show replay, because the feed never actually played the OT. When it finally stopped playing commercials, the postgame show was on. I get that this is “free” and I am lucky and privileged to have internet and such, but at the same time, as a listener, I’m a product being sold to advertisers. “We have x people tuning in online,” etc. And hey, the advertisers sure got their money’s worth! So good for them.
Still. WHAT A COMEBACK. WHAT A TEAM. I was grinning all night about the game. It took a LOT of the sting out of the other losses on the weekend, and now that it’s over, of course I’m excited about how it played out. It may be agony in real time (or slightly delayed time), but that payoff is sweet. I love low-stakes, high-drama entertainment!
Nobody Likes Denver
Many people get caught up in hating the Gophers, or the Effing Hawks, or Wisconsin, but I’d like to remind you that Denver is a very unlikable team. Exhibit A.
A typical Denver post-season experience: showing up to the NCHC tournament and winning in front of… the coaching staff and athletic trainers. What a thrill!
Just how unlikable is Denver? I’ll tell you. In 2017, the day of the national championship game, Biddy, Tim, and Kleiner went to a bar to watch a footy match. A British gentleman was there watching the match as well, and noted their maroon and gold attire. When he inquired as to tUMD’s opponent in the game, upon learning it was DU, he responded thusly:
“Denver? Fook Denver.”
Except he didn’t say “fook.” He didn’t even pronounce it “fook,” that’s just Dan of the Week’s poor attempt at a British accent. A side benefit of this is that now he and I have a way to swear on Skype for Business without having our conversations flagged for inappropriate content. Anyway, if a complete stranger, from another country, who likes another sport, knows how much Denver sucks, we know it’s true.
tUMD is, of course, the reigning national champion, but a little-known fact is that Denver is the 2017 national champion. They managed to eke out this win in front of a surprisingly large (for them) contingent of fans, but I know for a fact that these fans were paid operatives of former Let’s Go DU editor in chief, DG Goddard. I believe there were more UND fans cheering for Denver because they were mad at Neal Pionk than there were Denver “fans” in attendance. They also brought their band, seen here in this recent clip:
Despite having no fans, until recently having a Secret Skinhead as a coach, and generally being abhorrent, Denver has managed to go 10000000*-0-0 against tUMD in their last 10000000* games. This is a problem. It’s a total waste for a team with no fans to win a game! If a tree falls in the forest and no one is around, does anyone even care if it makes a sound? NO.
So, Bulldogs, it’s time to prey on St. Cloud’s sloppy seconds for the second week in a row, and bring a big sweepity sweep with you when you return to sea level*.
* approximation
Minus the Black Bears
tUMD 6, BSU 1/tUMD 2, BSU 0
tUMD 8, Maine 2/tUMD 3, Maine 2
I got this great idea for a post title thanks to a tweet from my favorite record store, Down in the Valley. But now I don’t know what else to say. Maine really sucked it up on Friday night, and so did Bemidji! That was great.
The games themselves, I can’t really comment on. I didn’t come up to Duluth this weekend! I’m very sad about this. It’s my own stupid fault, I signed up to do a race down here in the Cities and then I didn’t even do it! I went to bed super early and missed Justin Richards’ first Bulldog goal! I am officially terrible.
I missed a LOT of first goals actually! In addition to Richards’ first goal, I missed Koepke’s and Linser’s, too. And I missed Naomi Rogge having basically a natural hat trick, going from zero goals to FOUR GOALS this weekend — she scored the last two on Friday, including one with 0.1 seconds left, and the only two on Saturday. It’s about time tUMD stopped getting clogged up by Bemidji. And it was nice for Rooney to get a shutout.
One benefit of staying home this weekend was watching the Wild game on TV while listening to tUMD’s game. Stalock got the start, and while the beginning was somewhat unpleasant, Al really shined in the 3 on 3 OT. He is absolutely made for that kind of situation – so much space for him to play the puck, come waaaaaaay out of the net, and basically quarterback the play. He made two great stretch passes, the second of which was an assist on the game winning goal. I love seeing him on the Wild.
tUMD men play the Potato Farmers again next weekend, at the Golden Potato Farm, and the women are at St. Cloud, which should hopefully be another big sweepity sweep. The Potato Farmers just massacred the Red Cows, but I think UNO might just really suck, it’s unclear. It’s so hard to tell what’s a bad loss and what’s okay right now. Obviously all losses to Goofs are bad, because of course they suck. They’re the suckiest bunch of sucks who ever sucked.
Existential Dread
Let’s set aside that tUMD went 0-2-1-1 against the rodentia this weekend for a moment, and talk about why this season isn’t as exciting as it should be. I haven’t done much to prep for the season, haven’t even looked at the schedule that much, and I’m going to be missing all the women’s games in the near future and I’m skipping the next men’s home series (and I almost missed Saturday’s game! I wasn’t going to go til I figured out we’d be raising the banner).
tUMD women had a great weekend last weekend, sweeping Boston College, and so that got me a bit more engaged in the season. I made a tough decision to forego my women’s season tickets this year, since I won’t be able to attend enough games to make it financially feasible — and then my plan for getting my women’s hockey fix was thwarted. We’ll talk about that later.
I did get a bit more excited for this weekend’s games because I had a fun idea on how to kick off the weekend:
There’s nothing I love more than a good sign. This took about 15 takes btw.
I figured out what was wrong at about 10:00 PM on Saturday night, as we turned our car onto I-35 south. I don’t live in Duluth anymore.
I don’t live 10 minutes from the arena anymore. I don’t get home before the postgame show is over. (Okay that never happened because of traffic, but still.) I have to choose between a relaxing weekend at home, sleeping in my own bed and seeing tUMD play. I have to fight road construction and weekend traffic to get to games on time (ha) on Fridays. I have to put hundreds of miles on my car and spend hundreds more on gas just to see home games.
The luxury of spending the last five years living in Duluth after a decade of commuting to games from the Twin Cities was never lost on me. I was always appreciative of the convenience (even if I wasn’t always on time). But now that I don’t have the privilege anymore, I feel it keenly in my soul. I haven’t just lost the convenience, I’ve lost the community.
There’s something about living in a town where what seems like the whole city is behind the team. The Dogs were on the local news all the time. The players and coaches were out in the community. I saw my colleagues and neighbors at games. I saw Bulldog gear and paraphernalia on people and places every day. I had a free place to park. I could go to weekday events, like the locker room tour or the runner-up and championship celebrations (ok I went to the championship thing but still, had to drive) or season ticket seat selection. I am no longer part of the zeitgeist.
I am sure eventually I will get used to it again (and things have changed, as I no longer have to couch surf or pony up for a hotel), but just thinking about all those long drives made me tired, and made Bulldog fandom almost seem like a burden.
Peter Krieger’s goal and Maddie Rooney’s shootout saves lifted that burden a bit. Bring on the miles, bring on the late nights, bring on the fifteenth season of Runnin’ with the Dogs!
This Is Not My Beautiful House
Today, Amsoil Arena, the beautiful rink that houses our favorite Bulldog hockey teams, that honors our greatest players, that hosted many of our warmest hockey memories, is going to host a fascist rally.
Our six national championship banners (the seventh will be raised in October) will hang from the rafters while people I probably sit next to at hockey games, people who might even read this blog, mindlessly chant anti-democratic slogans and cheer like trained seals at vile, racist statements from the minority-elected president.
I can’t stomach the thought of seeing my favorite city and my favorite arena serve as a backdrop for a horde of racists, frothing at the mouth as their empty eyes gaze up at a tyrant in rapture and adoration. And these people won’t be strangers. They will be my colleagues, my former neighbors, the people behind me in line to see the national championship trophy. Lining up to listen to lies and filth from a megalomaniac, in the building where Olympic gold medalists like Haley Irwin, Sidney Morin and Maddie Rooney played (and will return to play), where Mike Connolly thrilled us with five goals against the Gophers, where Lara Stalder dazzled us by taking over game after game after game, where some random guy won $50,000 scoring from the opposite end of the rink. It’s nauseating to consider.
This arena wasn’t built to house hatred and bigotry. It wasn’t constructed to host a man who is ripping toddlers from their parents as they flee violence and poverty, housing them in internment camps and tent cities. Amsoil Arena wasn’t LEED certified so an orange blowhard despot who employs a criminal as head of the EPA could get his rocks off in front of a crowd.
If you’re forced to attend this tragic circus because you work at the DECC, or you’re a city official, or you’re in the press, I am sorry, and I worry for your safety. Especially if you’re in the media – this president encourages the zombies who worship him to harass the media. Then probably goes and wipes his ass with the Constitution.
If you choose to attend this rally of your own free will because you think this president is great, get the hell out of my beautiful house.
Following Up
A quick update on my poster status: I have one! And it’s signed!
I was, you might say, VERY unhappy about the poster shortage at the National Championship celebration event (OMG THAT’S RIGHT UMD MEN WON THE NATIONAL CHAMPIONSHIP!!!!!!!!!! I get excited anew just thinking about it). I endured a long drive, a long line, and what ended up being a semi-long illness only to find out I was going to have to awkwardly go through the autograph line empty-handed.
I complained on Twitter, and it worked! I have a poster! Josh, the athletic director (the REAL AD, not the fake assistant AD who was rude to me) and Brian, one of the assistant ADs, acknowledged the situation and offered a solution: if I emailed them with my address, I could get a poster when they printed more.
I’m not in customer service anymore per se (although we all gotta serve somebody), but this one-two punch is going to solve almost every customer service issue on the planet, unless the customer is completely unreasonable, the service provider is acting in bad faith, or something really, really, really bad and irreversible happened. Acknowledge the customer’s frustration and provide a remedy. I mean, I am a somewhat unreasonable person and I was not only placated but motivated to share this as a positive situation. Yes it’s almost two weeks later but let’s be real: ain’t nobody reading this blog no more – I shared it on Twitter right away.
Anyway, I was okay with this solution – at least I’d get a poster. What I didn’t expect is they would provide a signed poster in a media envelope with cardboard to protect it from bending or folding. I was pretty excited to receive almost exactly what I was hoping for in the first place, with the exception of one thing: Blake Young didn’t get the chance to sign “play your balls off” on my poster. A tragedy, for sure.
This is sort of an embarrassing amount of time to spend talking about something so inconsequential – it’s a freaking poster with writing on it – but I try not to dwell too hard on these things because I’d start questioning almost everything I do. Like, there are real problems in the world, why would I wait in line for two hours just to talk to a bunch of college men who use a composite stick to put a rubber disc in a metal and twine* — OH MY GOD STOP.
*shoutout to LGDU
The Long and Winding Road
I wasn’t quite ready to finish celebrating the national championship, so I decided to drive up to the celebration on Tuesday evening. Even though this was a very environmentally irresponsible decision, the Aaaahj and I drove up with Biddy and Kleiner, so the carpool made it a more reasonable decision. Plus the company couldn’t be beat. Many Simpsons quotations were said.
We arrived in Duluth at 5 PM, so we had plenty of time to fart around before the main event. Unfortunately, I felt like hot garbage. I have some kind of mini-influenza going on – aches, chills, fatigue – and realized upon arrival that I should have stayed home. But it was my last chance to see some of the seniors, and I wanted another signed poster. FORESHADOWING!
This was my first time in Duluth since I moved, which was bittersweet and way too brief. I was welcomed back with some snow. I think I need to move to Dubai.
Because we were so early, we decided to get in line to take photos with the trophy. Biddy and Kleiner had already gotten more, um, candid photos with the trophy, but I hadn’t gotten any quality time with it yet. I probably should have sat down, since I was feeling completely out of it, but was trying to fake it till I made it rather than succumbing to my illness. The line moved fairly quickly, and we were all able to get pix. In 2011, I picked the trophy up and made out with it, but that didn’t seem… acceptable this year. They had a staffer there taking the photos for people, and no one ahead of me seemed to be picking either of them up, so I toned it down.
We sat down to wait for the ceremony to start, and people-watched. The band came in and played a few songs, and then Howie got up and spoke for a bit before introducing the team. They all filed out in their nice polos, and for some reason Kobe Roth and his crutches were right in the middle, so he held everyone up.
Now I’ve forgotten a lot of what happened during the actual presentation. They showed the intro video, then Howie talked a bit more, then the mayor proclaimed it Bulldog Hockey Victory Day or something. (In 2011, Mayor Ness proclaimed it Jack Connolly Day, but I guess since Kuhlman is from Esko, it could not be Karson Kuhlman Day.) Sandy came up, put on his readers, and gave a nice “F*ck the Haters” speech. (Okay it wasn’t really that, but he did have a nice pointed jab at the media for being doubters. I mean okay yes a lot of people were doubters but you know, Sandy, you did lose to Alberta.) Kuhlman got up and said a few things, and then we watched a video of the playoff run. Jack Connolly was on hand for some reason. That reason was not revealed to us. Also it was not revealed to us why he was dressed in dark clothing with a knit cap, as if he was going to rob the place later.
That was all fun and games, but stuff was about to get real. In 2011, they set up the autograph table in the concourse on the end with the windows, and then the line snaked around the concourse. I was at the very end of that line, and waited 3.5 hours to tell Christian Gaffy that my hair was breaking off. I did not use that 3.5 hours to think of intelligent things to say. Although last year I went to the runners-up celebration and Dan of the Week and I got up to Tufte and Dan said “I went to Blaine,” and then we all stood there awkwardly, so this problem is not limited to me.
This year the autograph table was set up on the floor in front of the benches, and people lined up before the ceremony started, so they wouldn’t have to wait. At the end of the ceremony, the line had grown and was headed off the floor and up the stairs. We got up and joined the back of that line, because that was clearly the line. However, many people seemed to think that wasn’t actually the line. A couple hundred people decided they could just make a new line, like some kind of zipper merge situation, and no one from tUMD did anything about it. The line also seemed to get fatter than it had been at the start, and was 3 or 4 people wide on the floor, when it had been 1 or 2 people wide before. So there was rampant budging going on unchecked. We ended up not moving more than a foot for like 30 minutes. That was partially because Karson Kuhlman didn’t join the autograph line until people had already started going through, which was holding things up. He was probably off giving an interview or something, but come on, people! Media get plenty of access to players – fans rarely get an opportunity for a meet and greet.
An hour or so later, when we finally reached the bottom of the stairs, Bruce Ciskie came over to chat with us for a little while. We discussed what national championship gear we would be purchasing. I put in my order today (sweatshirt, gold t-shirt, puck, and pin); Bruce is still unsure.
Apparently I should have purchased something on Tuesday, because an hour later, when we finally were getting close to the front of the line, an athletic department staffer came through the line and informed us they were likely to run out of posters.
Yeah I was not really happy, considering the crowd control issues, the long drive, the long wait, and my influenza/consumption/vapors. I hate being such a rule follower! Why couldn’t I have also budged? Apparently there were no consequences! As we got closer to the front of the line, we saw the stack of posters dwindling. Some people in line had other things to get signed, others already had posters (they handed them out in advance, which could have been part of the problem, if people were taking stacks), but the stack still got down to zero with about 20-25 people in front of us.
I politely (yes actually politely) but assertively expressed my displeasure with the crowd control issues to Jay Finnerty, Associate Athletic Director for Revenue and Special Projects. He had been strutting around the table all evening, so it certainly took me as a surprise when he quite rudely said he didn’t have any idea what I was talking about, and when I told him a couple hundred people had cut the line and now they were out of posters, he just walked away.
Look, I don’t give thousands of dollars to the athletic department (and when I’m in a position to donate thousands of dollars somewhere, it’ll be to food-based charities or abortion providers), so I realize that no one needs to kiss my ring, but it seems like one of the basic tenets of customer service is not to sneer at the customer and walk away without even acknowledging there was a problem. So that made me even more annoyed. I mean, I’m an alumna, I’m a multi-sport season ticket holder, and I’m a dedicated fan. Maybe it wouldn’t cost you anything to just acknowledge there was a problem.
Fortunately the actual athletic director and Brian, another assistant DA, came to the rescue. The were contrite, acknowledged there was a problem, and they provided a solution – I could email the athletic department and they would mail me a poster! I thought a better solution would be to give me a game worn jersey, but it’s not meant to be.
We all decided we were going to go through the line anyway. Kleiner had a flag he wanted signed, and Biddy was getting Rachel’s flag signed, although she only needed two signatures, since she’d gotten the rest last Friday. I had absolutely nothing on me that could be signed, and neither did the Aaaahj, plus I was too cranky to go buy something to take the place of the free thing. Even though, yes, I just spent $100 on stuff today. Still. It was the principle.
So, going through the line with nothing is EXTREMELY AWKWARD. Wow. I mean, it’s bad enough going through the line being me, but going through the line being me and having nothing to autograph when the ostensible purpose of going through the line is to receive autographs is just off the charts awk. Since they’d been signing autographs for two hours at that point, they were all kind of zoned out (although they did get pizza – I considered asking them to sign a pizza box) and kind of looking down the line for the next poster to sign. So then when I had nothing to sign, I ended up kind of standing there with nothing to say and no eye contact. It wasn’t a great situation.
Highlights:
- I told Perunovich his mom’s jersey is amazing
- We told Bender he had the best name on the team and that we love Futurama
- I lamented that I had nothing that Blake Young could sign “play your balls off” on
- I teased Justin Richards about getting kicked out of the final faceoff
- I had a nice chat with Ben Patt about his video board stuff during the Frozen Four – he was so funny!
- Biddy had Matt Anderson and Nick Swaney sign Rachel’s flag, and no one else (since she had all the other signatures), which was hilarious since it made it look like those were the only 2 players who mattered
So now the season is finally over for me, and I can relax in the off-season, or at least turn my focus to the Wild’s playoff “run,” short as it may be. These 6+ month seasons are starting to become routine, but they can be draining, even for a fan!
As always, thanks for reading RWD and sharing the crazy ups and downs of the season with me. It’s been a crazy journey and I’m glad we could take it together.
Seven Year Itch
Yesterday was the 7th anniversary of the first national championship. So much has changed since then!
I went back today to look at the coverage I provided (I use the term loosely, but I serve a niche market – and my niche I mean more like a little sliver) in 2011. There was… certainly more content back then. Also I was still writing on blogspot at the time; I think I made the switch that summer. Some of those posts have some wonky formatting and a lot of the pictures and videos didn’t port over. Maybe I should hire an intern to clean up my archives.
As I said yesterday, things are different this time around. Not just in hockey, but in my own life as well. In April 2011, I didn’t know I was 7 months away from quitting my job, returning to school, moving to Duluth, graduating from tUMD, and moving back to the Cities.
Oh man, needling Bruce is a time honored tradition. From the moving to Duluth post:
Radio voice of the Bulldogs, Bruce Ciskie, merely groaned in annoyance and rolled his eyes, then returned to writing his 1000-page tirade on officiating.
Back on topic. The 2011 season was so strange. tDogs closed down tDECC (with a superb victory over Denver) and opened Amsoil Arena (with a disastrous, glass-shattering scoreless affair against the Racist Mascots). Dylan Olsen left the team during the break, almost directly after I won his final game at the DECC jersey and asked him to stay one more year. So that was awkward. My dad won Trent Palm’s jersey in the same auction, and wore it at the national championship game. After Saturday’s game, he sold the jersey to a guy in a giant foam cowboy hat from Alaska who really wanted it. So we’ll probably never win another national championship game ever, if you believe in jersey karma.
The sign was very popular.
tUMD started that playoff run with a home sweep of SCSU, including a triple OT game that was payback for the 2007 season-ending 3OT loss at the National Concrete Center, then laid an egg in the conference tournament by losing to Buttmidji. I guess stinking it up in the conference tournament is a strategy for winning a national championship? Get that last loss out of the way before it’s too late? Whatever, it worked, although they had way more wiggle room back then. Many ten-thousandths worth of wiggle room, rather than just the one.
tUMD was shipped out east to play the Racist Mascots of New York, and I missed the whole game because it was a day game (the #1 seed, Y6le, chose the night game I guess) and I worked. Back then Twitter was not nearly so robust (nor nearly so corrupt/bot-ful), so it was hard to get a sense of the game. I even remember a time before unlimited texting, when I worked nights and my dad had to call my work number to get score updates. Meanwhile, this year I was able to stream the regional semifinal on ESPN3 “The Tres,” and while it wasn’t great quality, it was an upgrade over sporadic texts. While tUMD shut out Union, they needed OT to dig out of a 2 goal deficit, and needed to score “twice” in OT in order to win. (Note: I understand why the first goal came back. It was still a wacky finish.)
tUMD then beat the #1 seed in the region (and, I believe, the overall #1), Y6le, in rather aggressive fashion. This year, they didn’t even get a crack at the #1 seed, St. Cloud (also the #1 overall), because their coach decided to quit on them and they were too distracted for the hockeys. They faced Air Force in a close-on-paper, domination-in-reality game. I watched the Y6le game at MeanEgirl’s house with Biddy and her (and I think Yager?); they weren’t even married at the time! This year, we drove out to Fighting Hawks Falls for the regional final and watched in person with Rachel, Biddy, and Dan of the Week.
When tUMD rolled into St. Paul in 2011, it was gorgeous and sunny, which complimented their lovely, bleach blonde hair. In solidarity, I also dyed my hair, with disastrous results that took months to correct. This year, the weather was totally crappy, and the Dogs and I had normal hair. Well, I have normal hair, I can’t really speak to the rest of the guys’ hair choices. 2 of the other teams from the Frozen Four, Notre Dame and Michigan, decided to show up in both 2011 and 2018. The third 2011 team doesn’t exist anymore, but their replacement, the Fighting Hawks, chose to stink it up in the regular season, rather than in the Frozen Four. This year, Michigan made it without any extremely controversial goal calls, unlike their regional semifinal in against UNO 7 years ago (sorry Susie, too soon?).
In 2011, the first semifinal had 0 titles between the two teams, and the second semifinal had 16. This year the first semifinal had 1 and the second semifinal had 9. tUMD played in the first semifinal both years, and it was extremely relaxing to know we were in the title game while watching the second. This year, I didn’t really care about the outcome of the second game. We could play the Potato Farmers, or we could play the One Song Wonders. In 2011, it was a choice between the One Song Wonders or 18,000 drunken hicks who pin their entire self worth to the success of their men’s hockey team screeching in my face. It was nice that the One Song Wonders took care of them in hilarious fashion, freeing up tickets for Dogs fans and removing the threat of violence both on and off the ice.
Both times, we faced Notre Dame, but in 2011, we faced them first. We were both 3 seeds then, while this year our semifinal opponent duhOSU was somehow a one seed (and had knocked off potential juggernaut Denver, thanks fellas). The Big 10’s insular schedule really helped them appear better than they were – it certainly helped Notre Dame absorb a loss to freaking Sacred Heart in Catholic Bowl 2017. We raised our banner in front of Notre Dame that fall, too, in our first home series. So fortuitous, so impolite, so awesome. I forgot that tDogs played from behind twice in that game. I also forgot that Notre Dame had an actual leprechaun on the team at that time, TJ Tynan. No such luck this year, as Notre Dame brought only Brobdingnagians this year.
Ohio State had their own Colossus of Rhodes, Dakota Joshua, he of the two first names. He actually sounds like he should be playing for Denver – it is a very Denver name. At one point we had to get Tufte to get him in line.
Speaking of Denver, the 2004 Denver semifinal was on everyone’s mind back in 2011. tDogs gave up a SHG in the 3rd period of the semi against Notre Dame, and it felt like it was going to be that DU game all over again. At the time, I said:
The Leps took the puck all the way to the other and and into the Bulldog net, and then fear took over and I was unable feel any sort of confidence or hope we were going to hold the lead.
Leps = Leprechauns, obvs.
My friend Brad said in the comments he thought the same thing.
Ditto here. I swore it was 2004 all over again. In the 2004 Frozen Four UMD had only lost once when leading going into the third and then last night ESPN gave the same stat for this years team. Notre Dame scored and I thought UMD’s goose was cooked. I was so nervous.
Here in 2018, we have a new frame of reference: winning Frozen Four semifinals. I don’t think I ever once thought about that DU semifinal. Since I was not watching on TV, I didn’t see them talking about stats or how tUMD was undefeated in the last bajillion games when leading after 2, so I did not have to worry about statistical jinxes in either of the games. Don’t get me wrong, there was plenty of worry about Ohio State, especially because they were coached by a double agent, Steve Rohlik.
While tDogs didn’t face Michigan this year, it’s funny to note that, directly after Michigan lost to tUMD in 2011, Mel Pearson became head coach of the Michigan Tech Huskies. This season was his first season back at Michigan, after abandoning Tech. Side note: MeanEgirl got herself blocked by Mel during the semis this year. He’s very sensitive.
I re-read my final post before the championship game and my heart dropped. So much has changed, but so much is the same.
Win it for your old captain, Andrew Carroll. The consummate hard worker, who willed himself and his teammates to be better. Win it for him, as vindication for that Miami game.
It’s amazing that his legacy lives on so brightly in this team. Back, then, those guys had been his teammates. Now, we have Tufte, who he mentored. Our Kaptain, Karson Kuhlman, wore #20 this year and I have to say without a doubt, he did that number justice.
Win it for Dick Stewart. Win it for his windsock and his dedication to the youth hockey players of Duluth. Win it because you bought your gear from him. Win it because he lost his vision at a Bulldogs game.
Dick Stewart is gone this time around. We miss him, his windsock, and his love of polka. We’ll always love Dick.
Win it for Hoagie. Because there’s no one more dedicated, more caring, and more invested in you guys than he is. Win it for all he’s given the program for so many years.
It’s still true, and the guys still understand. (PS click those links and check out that photoset by Maddie MacFarlane.)
tUMD never trailed in the 2018 championship game. In 2011, they trailed for much of the game, playing only 8:15 with the lead, until the end. Until the snow angels. This year, we watched the minutes tick away, willing the clock to run down to zero and the puck to stay out of the zone, off the sticks of the Shiny Helmets, and out of the back of the net. We also hoped in vain for some scoring in a period other than the first, but the two first period goals would have to do, yet again. It’s funny how similar the games in 2018 were, when it felt like the 2011 games were all so different.
My previous post about this year’s game was a diary of my experiences on gameday, and I wrote a similar one in 2011. I played hockey that morning – hadn’t gotten into running yet. I forgot that I had a very strange postgame locker room experience with a UNO fan that year. Shudder. I ran on the treadmill this year to get my energy out. In 2011 the pregame festivities were at McGovern’s, but this year they were at Tom Reid’s. Either way it was a total sardine can disaster.
Our celebration in 2011 was much more, um, violent than it was in 2018, but that’s to be expected when it’s an OT win. We didn’t know at the time that Jared Thomas’s Love’s Baby Soft-sponsored goal would be the game-winner. How weird to win a national championship in regulation. I didn’t cry as much either; I did cry a bit when I saw Thomas immediately skate over to get Roth at the end, and I cried when I read this quotation from Blake Young:
In 2011 I was basically a screaming mess.
Postgame, we went to Tom Reid’s (ugh, so much free advertising) and watched the Wild game. They scored a lot of goals. My BC/BU/UW friends arrived and the Sharks fan among them was unhappy about the game, but the rest of the bar was enjoying the game. The Bulldogs game was replayed on ESPN U after some downer documentary about Pistol Pete Maravich (so funny that Mackay actually uses “Pistol Pete” as his Twitter handle, wonder where that comes from), and we stayed until the second goal was scored, then left. After the Michigan game, fans congregated at Reid’s again, but we watched the whole game and sang the Beer Song and all kinds of other things. It was much warmer that day so it felt a lot more fun to party.
The team went to Bennett’s Chop House for their own party – I didn’t go either year. In 2011 I didn’t know about it, and in 2018 I opted not to go. It turned out to be swarmed with people since the secret was out, so I’m glad I didn’t go. That’s for the players and their families and friends, not for creepy bloggers.
By this point in 2011, Justin Faulk and Mike Connolly had already signed pro contracts. So far, no one is bolting the team, which is good. Maybe everyone who can will return. Maybe our beloved Squirrel will stay on another year somehow. I’m sure the “Family Advisers” are swarming like flies, and of course I want everyone to do what’s best for themselves, but like… it’s always best to stay at tUMD. Always.
I can’t wait to write another compare/contrast post next year, when tDogs go back to back and I go over Niagara Falls in a barrel to calm myself before the championship game!
We Can Be Heroes Just For One Day
Though nothing, nothing will keep us together
We can beat them, forever and ever
Oh, we can be heroes just for one day
There’s nothing like watching one’s team win their first national championship. I know this now, because I’ve seen my favorite men’s team win their second.
It feels different, and not just because it was a regulation win rather than an overtime surprise, or because it was unexpected after the team’s turnover and their challenging start. In 2011, the team accomplished something that didn’t seem possible. This year, despite the myriad way this title seemed beyond the team’s reach, we all knew it was possible simply because it had happened before. Improbable, sure, but not impossible.
Much has been made of how UMD got in on the slimmest of margins, and how they were playing with “house money,” having far exceeded the expectations fans and media had in September or December. I can’t speak for anyone on the team or the staff, but as a fan, it helped me relax a little. I mean, I was still nervous during the actual games, but I didn’t live in perpetual terror for a three week stretch like I did in 2011. For the first time ever in my history of bracket participation, I chose UMD to win it all in not one, but two brackets, one of which even required me to lay out $5. I told Dan of the Week I wasn’t going to pay him, because he’d just be giving me my money back. (Note: he did on Friday, because everyone else picked either Fooking Denver or Mankato [why??] to win, and Notre Dame to lose in the final, so the tUMD win against duhOSU sealed the deal for me.) Never in my life have I been so cavalier about such an important game.
That doesn’t mean that it doesn’t feel amazing to have watched this team battle their way back from a loss to the University of Alberta on September 30th, a goaltending rollercoaster for the next few series, a player quitting the team, a tragic loss of a former captain and mentor, a complete inability to beat Denver, a less-than-stellar showing at the conference tournament, and on the eve of the national championship game, a catastrophic accident in the SJHL that deeply affected players and fans alike, especially UMD players whose friends were among the injured or lost. And there are likely all kinds of private setbacks and misfortunes we will never know about, that the players, coaches, and staff had to work through to get to this moment.
I hate to be maudlin about such a joyous event, but that’s how Saturday started. I spent Friday on Cloud 9, barely getting any work done before leaving to join a group of friends from BC/BU/UW/NU for lunch, but by bedtime, all my attention was focused on the Humboldt Broncos, and I woke up hoping somehow there was better news, that the early reports had somehow overcounted the number of victims. The national championship game didn’t matter as much; I felt a profound sorrow for a bus full of people I’ve never met. I hadn’t felt like that since the Lokomotiv Yaroslavl tragedy. The players, staff, fans, and families of the Broncos were never far from my mind or my heart yesterday.
After a quick run on the treadmill to try to calm my nerves, followed by a venti latte to get them zapping again, we headed down to Tom Reid’s (ugh, why, it’s so crowded, stop hosting stuff here!) at about 3 PM. My dad, brother, aunt, and uncle had been there since 2 to watch golf (why??), so they had a table; otherwise it would have been TS for The Aaaahj and me. I stayed there until 3:45, when my aunt and I headed out for the red carpet (while everyone else stayed back to drink beer and my uncle ate the last two steak bites). My aunt is new to Bulldog fandom but she is an awesome person who is up for anything, so I was glad to not have to go alone. Although I could have just squeezed my way up to the front where Bruce Ciskie was, blocking everyone’s view with his tallness. No, Bruce, we all understand, you don’t often get an opportunity to see the players or talk to them or congratulate them, by all means, get right up front.
The red carpet was held at the “main” entrance to the Xcel, on Kellogg and 7th, which is also the most annoying entrance to the Xcel. The red carpet was WAY too short, so people were lined up 5 or 6 deep. Last year, the red carpet was way more spread out (and wasn’t on a busy street!) so more people could give high fives and the effect was overall more dramatic. Once the bus arrived (about five very cold minutes after my aunt and I got there), the street got blocked off and we moved into the street to get a better opportunity to cheer as everyone passed. My aunt moved in for the high fives but I hung back and cheered because I prefer to admire from afar. Everyone seemed to be having a great time and they were really pumped up by the fans. No one more so than Jarod Hilderman, who is rising in my esteem and will probably be one of my faves next year. Sammy “Spurrell” Squirrel won best dressed in my opinion, as always. Canadian men are way better dressers than American men, on the whole.
After that we returned to the Tom Reid’s Hockey City Sardine Can and hung out for another two hours. I was able to see a few other Bulldog fans including Flippy Cup Superstar Matt, Brett the Scientologist, and Lisa, the Vice Chancellor for Monitoring RWD to Make Sure She Doesn’t Get Out of Hand. I also saw Wade Bergman, Tim Stapleton (I think), Carson Soucy, and Kyle Osterberg. Oh, and better-than-Schloss beat writer Matt Wellens. We finally left at around 6, so we could be in our seats and ready to go with plenty of time. Be it known: for the final two games of the year, I was on time.
The crowd was mostly pro-Bulldog with some potato farmer fans thrown in here and there. Last year was way more even – I’d guess since it was a more “neutral” site and also because we had so many people clutching and grabbing their pearls about Neal Pionk. I found myself nostalgic for the DU band and their carousel music, because the Notre Dame band is really annoying. They appeared to have been admonished by someone for their nonstop playing, including long stretches when the puck was in play. I understand that they are allowed to basically do whatever they want because of OMGRUDY and FOOTBALL and SUBWAYALUMS, but it was pretty much BS they were able to get away with it in the semis. They also brought some stupid guy dressed as a leprechaun, because they are all huge racists who don’t understand that Irish are people, not mascots. At one point the leprechaun was admonished for jigging in the aisle, which was a Great Moment in Ushering History, except that he wasn’t ejected from the game.
The game was exciting. And terrifying. First Kobe Roth went down after some leprechaun flung him into the boards, causing him to break his ankle. Fhawks fans likely are still screeching that it was a dive, because they are unable to think for themselves and probably saw on a Sinclair affiliate station that tDogs are a bunch of divers. So the bench was shortened immediately, which made me anxious, since the 4th line has been playing so well together, and tDogs would either be left with 3 lines or someone double-shifting. It wasn’t ideal, but I guess I should have just trusted in the Kaptain, because he was up to the task.
When Karson Kuhlman scored while playing on one of these aforementioned double shifts, neutral fans were like “boom, game over, tUMD wins,” but of course as a non-neutral fan, I was like “OMGWE’RELEADINGWHATIFWEBLOWTHIS.” It was so exciting, though! It did feel good to get that first goal. They waited a little longer to start the scoring, as the first goal was 9 minutes in rather than, like, one second into the game or whatever happened against duhOSU. I am sure that’s accurate so I won’t look it up.
Instead of scoring at the opening of the period, tDogs flipped the script and scored at the end of the period, when Jared Thomas (who scored both of our GWGs at the Frozen Four) made the recently anointed Richter award winner look like… well, like he’d been tending goal against the lesser teams in college hockey, which he had been all season. Then Notre Dame took a penalty! Unfortunately tUMD didn’t get the brainwaves I was sending them from atop section 215, because they didn’t spend the final 18 seconds of the period passing the puck amongst themselves in order to get the full two minutes of PP in the second period.
At intermission I went to talk to my lovely friend from Battleford, Sask., who was charging her phone and trying not to barf from anxiety, same as me. She was as far away from me as possible in the rink (opposite corner, lower level), and so many people were either standing directly in my way or walking stupidly. WALK WITH A PURPOSE OR GET OUT OF THE WAY. That is how you traverse a crowded arena. Or anywhere. We spent most of the time talking about the Broncos’ bus crash; it was on the minds of most everyone in the arena. She told me some additional details, including the story of Nick Shumlanski, the Broncos player whose family lived only a quarter mile from the scene of the accident, and whose father was one of the first people on the scene.
I made it back to my seat just after the start of the second period. I guess 18 seconds didn’t really make that much of a difference, because they didn’t score, and then they didn’t score on the penalty called almost directly after the first PP expired, although they did have some ok chances. Notre Dame got a similar back to back PP situation and they did manage to score on it, but apparently they can only score on the PP (Jordan Gross admitted it, even!) so that was it. The goal was reviewed for offsides, but I don’t know. I guess I could watch the TV replay and see if there was anything there, but that would mean having to listen to Harassmentigross babbling on in his desperate-to-remain-relevant-and-cool way. A couple minutes after the goal, a Notre Dame player felt the time was right for a knee on knee hit, which was reviewed as a possible major, but only warranted a minor, apparently. I was approximately one billion miles away from the ice so I can’t say one way or another. Again, I’ll have to re-watch. That occurred at the 10:02 mark, so almost exactly halfway through the game. Absolutely nothing happened after that. I think. I might have blacked out.
During the second intermission I went to hang out with Biddco, MeanEgirl, and other assorted characters. I don’t remember what we discussed. Beer, maybe? Because they were serving it at the Frozen Four! An unexpected delight for many. I guess the NCAA finally decided the potential financial gain was more important than their Puritan sensibilities. Or maybe tDon getting shoved out was the final piece of the puzzle. Who knows? Anyway, it happened. Oh, also I discussed wig care and maintenance with new tUMD fan* Hummus Loser. I think the intermissions were actually about 75 minutes long. Can anyone verify?
*I can only assume he’s fully cast off the bondage of SCSU fandom thanks to this glorious win.
In the 3rd period, I just kept waiting for that patented Notre Dame goal. Apparently they have a knack for scoring late or in OT, just like tUMD had a knack for scoring early and then clamping down. I wasn’t sure that was going to hold, since the potato farmers had scored so early relative to AF and the pot leafs. And also due to the maddening and perplexing ways that tUMD managed to avoid clearing the zone. Okay, the outcome of the game is all that matters but holy crap this zone clearing situation has been a problem for like 2 years now. Let’s fix that for next year and win another championship, mkay? I mean yes, eventually the zone was cleared, or the puck frozen, but wow, way to make it interesting! I suppose the progression is OT win –> one goal win –> blowout win? Let me check my frame of reference, since we happen to have a program with FIVE national championships… OH DEAR GOD THE THIRD CHAMPIONSHIP CALLS FOR 2OTs.
I checked my heart rate via my fitness tracker at one point, when I was sitting down and not even cheering or clapping or yelling or screaming, and it was 110 bpm. Such a healthy pastime.
Notre Dame pulled their goalie with 1:28 to go, which felt like actually 1:28:00 to go. tUMD promptly iced the puck and took a time out. My understanding of what transpired during this time is completely different than what actually happened. tUMD held Notre Dame without a shot during this entire time, but of course to me it felt like tDogs were constantly in danger. There were multiple chances for tDogs to get empty netters and seal the deal, and I really, really, wanted to cheer for another goal (especially if Kuhlman had gotten it during that first chance – holy crap is his conditioning on point), but it wasn’t to be. Instead, the clock eventually ticked its way down to 1.5 seconds, when the Bulldogs iced the puck, and we had to sit through a delay to determine how many seconds needed to be added to the clock. Then they added 20 minutes, which was extra hilarious. Then Justin Richards was kicked out of the faceoff, to which my brother said “Well, you know that was going to happen.” Blake Young took the final face-off and tDogs won!
Really, it was almost anticlimactic. Almost. But it’s not really fair to compare it to an OT win. And I did not want OT, I wanted to win in regulation. And I got what I wanted, as I usually do. tDogs piled into the other corner at our end, with Jared Thomas almost immediately skating away to go retrieve Kobe Roth and bring him out to celebrate. We got down to ice level as quickly as possible to go pound on the glass and scream and yell and celebrate with other fans.
I think this team is fantastic from the stars down to the guys who didn’t play on Saturday. Two of the guys having the most fun on the red carpet were Ben Patt and Jarod Hilderman. Many news outlets are using photos of Squirrel or Nick McCormack celebrating with the trophy (whoever started the tradition of dressing the scratched players for the celebration was brilliant). Avery Peterson was skating around with Hoagie and gave him a big smooch (check out Maddie’s whole photo gallery, it’s great) (also was this like kissing a peanut?). Squirrel came over to celebrate with Biddy at one point, as he knows Biddy is one of his biggest fans. (I am his other biggest fan but don’t have a distinctive hat.) Kobe “Midget” Roth shook off any doubters who thought he couldn’t produce against “real” competition, showed up at tUMD without his former Warroad linemate (the decommitted Jared Bethune), and battled injuries to make the final lineup. Jade Miller, who watched from the stands last year, assisted on the first goal of the night. Hunter Shepard watched from the stands last year and sealed up tUMD season records with this huge win this year. Jared Thomas, who seemed to be cracking the lineup based solely on his face-off winning ability in previous seasons, scored both game-winners in the Frozen Four. Blake Young, who willed his way into the lineup midway last year, took the final face-off, and had the most Saskatchewan moment ever in the postgame presser when he said the guys “played their balls off.”
The postgame fan experience was so much fun. I joined up with all my nearest and dearest to cheer: Biddy, Dan of the Week, Ben the Official GIFer of tUMD hockey, Rachel (who had amazing seats behind the net), Abby (soon-to-be Mrs. Dan of the Week), MeanEgirl, The Aaaahj (obviously), Bruce Jr., and of course a bunch of strangers who were instant compadres. Our friend Erik spent 10 minutes screaming through one of the camera holes in the glass for someone to bring the trophy down to our end. “RILEYYYYYYYYYYYY. BRING THE TROPHY DOWN HEEEEEEEERRRRRE. BRING THE TROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOPHY!” Scott Perunovich gave a young kiddo his stick (after Erik almost knocked the kid over). My BC Interruption friends even gave me my own celebratory chant (it’s a long story, but the gist of it is I am very important and special) before we headed out to Tom Reid’s (ugh, whyyyy) to celebrate, watch the Wild game, and then watch a bit of the NC replay (once Thomas scored, there wasn’t any point in staying) before going home to attempt to consume the avalanche of media created around the game, and to try to go to sleep (I think I went to bed at 3 am? It was a bit early but I’m old now). We tried to order a gyro pizza but the place was closed! So it meant we had to use our oven for the first time since moving into our house! How terrible. The Aaaahj overcooked the pizza. And then we forgot to eat the celebratory tiramisu I had purchased the day before during my excursion to Moscow on the Hill with the BC RWD Interruption crew (who, by the way, heeded the unexpected requests from tUMD players to bark at the game on Saturday)!
This new era of Bulldog hockey is a marvel. Stepping back and looking at what has been accomplished over the last decade is staggering. The 2008-09 season was a turning point for the program, and it’s only fitting that this championship should be dedicated to one of the members of that program. The improbable run of that team, winning the WCHA playoffs as the lowest seed and winning the regional semifinal by what seemed at the time to be the slimmest of margins, paved the way for this championship. tDogs turned 0.0001 into 1.0000.
It was hard to capture in words this ephemeral moment, already slipping through my fingers as I sit at my desk and pretend to work (I work for Canadians, they understand) while I sign off this gargantuan piece that has taken me a whole day to write. I’ll celebrate again tomorrow when I head up to Duluth for the reception at Amsoil Arena, and then close the book on the season. We’ll see who remains and who goes, and we’ll show up in October to raise a banner and look at each season that comes with a new understanding, that anything is possible as long as there’s one ten-thousandth of a chance.
Runnin' With the Dogs 
