It shouldn’t have been that easy.
As I alluded to on Deadspin last week, I’m up here in Michigan for two long weeks of business training. Detroit? What a great time to be in Detroit. Two teams are highly-seeded playoff squads, the Tigers recently remembered that they play baseball for a living, and it’s time for Matt Millen’s Annual Draftastic Nightmare. You have to be proud, Michigan.
As I sat in my hotel room, waiting for the final seconds of the Calgary-San Jose Game 7 last Tuesday night, I got a crazy idea. One thing was for sure – the Red Wings would be hosting Games 1 and 2 of their 2nd round series. And once the merciless clock runs out on the Flames (and the decomposing CuJo), those games’ details would be released by the league. Since I had nothing going on for the weekend, how hard would it be to get a seat in Joe Louis Arena?
Now I know. This is Hockeytown. Playoff tix are probably bequeathed down from generation to generation. There’s probably a sacred code that involves drinking the blood of Vladimir Konstantinov. What chance does a sarcastic blogger sporting complete indifference for Mike Babcock’s team have in finding some space in the upper reaches of the Joe? I better plan on laying a couple G’s.
5 minutes on Ticketmaster, and I had my seat. Hell, I only had to drop $150. I’d gladly spend that cash to avoid getting sucked in to watching the damn draft all day. (Call it a Berman Avoidance Tax.) So what rafter will I be hanging from in order to watch Zetterberg and Friends through binoculars? Let’s see…checking ticket…no, that can’t be right.
Front row, bitches.
Where does Detroit get off calling themselves Hockeytown when an out-of-town blogger can get a seat on the glass by simply entering his credit card number on Ticketmaster? Against Colorado, no less! And $150? That’s nothing for the playoffs. I should have been forced to pay twice that, fight Darren McCarty in the concourse, and eat my weight in Little Caesar’s. Instead, I’m close enough to yell at Adam Foote on the Power Play.
(You know, if the Avs could have stayed out of the box long enough.)
Thanks to Weed for getting me a MYFO t-shirt in time for the game. And thanks to Deadspin reader Ken, who recognized our logo when I was walking up the stairs to get a beer. Detroit won 5-1, for two reasons. One: Johan Franzen has turned into a playoff beast. Two: the fear I instilled in Joe Fucking Sakic, who was mere feet from my face and a complete non-factor in Game 2.
Final note: Yes, those are my hands folded (in prayer?) and my head just over Datsyuk’s shoulder. I’d have stood up, but I’d rather not lose my job at the Washington Post. (Pic courtesy of Eric Seals at the DFP.