But First the Puck Will Drop

 Wish me luck.  (Monte Dutton)

Wish me luck. (Monte Dutton)

Gotta go...to an indie bookstore!

Clinton, South Carolina, Saturday, February 14, 2015, 9:48 a.m.

If not for the hectic nature of the day, I’d be stoked, or one of those other tragically hip clichés that are now acceptable to indicate an inordinate level of preliminary motivation.

Leaning on the old tires. (Monte Dutton sketch ... of Monte Dutton)

Leaning on the old tires. (Monte Dutton sketch … of Monte Dutton)

At various times, my feelings for Saturday night’s Sprint Unlimited have been far out, all right, fayuntastic, way cool, gnarly, bad-ass, pumped, fired up, and ready to throw down.

Predating NASCAR, not to mention me, I might have declared it “swell” or even said, for no apparent reason, “Twenty-three skidoo.” Or maybe, “Jumping Jehosaphat!” “Great Caesar’s ghost!”

It’s as long a way from “gee whiz” to “wtf” as from Bons Secours Wellness Arena to Daytona International Speedway.

They were just the Twitter sayings of their day, back before a man (or woman) had character counts with which to contend.

This afternoon I’ve got a minor league hockey match to describe. This is a first. I like hockey. The NHL had a Sunday game of the week on CBS when I was ten. I remember reading tales of Bobby Hull, Gordie Howe, Henri Richard, and Phil Esposito in Sport magazine. I think the greatest ever was Bobby Orr, though not for long enough.

I doubt I’ll see any Bobby Orrs circulating this afternoon for the Greenville Road Warriors, but I’m looking forward to it the same way I was when I first wrote about a dirt track, a mountain climb, American Legion baseball, and a bowl game.

Also, I've never covered lion taming. (Monte Dutton)

Also, I’ve never covered lion taming. (Monte Dutton)

My ardor for Legion ball cooled a bit the time Easley scored eighteen runs in the top of the first inning and wound up losing, 25-23. Most of the bullpens had bolted for the beach.

If all goes well, I should be home in plenty of time for the race, which itself won’t take that much time at all. I expect no icing calls in Daytona Beach.

Just so you know, later today, when I tweet the Road Warriors are being outshot, it won’t mean I’m in the process of defending my home from attack. It just means the alarm system is armed, and, in Greenville, the pucks are flying, not the hot lead.

As the late Henny Youngman might have said, were he I, take my books. Please: http://www.amazon.com/Monte-Dutton/e/B005H3B144/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1416767492&sr=8-1


About Monte

For 20 seasons, I mostly wrote about NASCAR. I'm still paying attention, but I'm spending more of my time these days writing novels and songs. I try to blog regularly on whatever happens to strike my fancy.
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One Response to But First the Puck Will Drop

  1. Dave Fulton says:

    I got to watch Dave Schultz set the all-time American Hockey League record for penalty minutes playing for the minor league Richmond Robins around 1971 or so, before he headed nawth to Philly with the Flyers and accomplished the same feat in the NHL.

    Minor League sports can be quite exciting… sometimes. It was our bane in Richmond in the 50s-mid-60s to be home of the AAA farm of the much hated (in Richmond) New York Yankees. The Yankees under Dan Topping & Co. were prone to trade 3 Richmond Virginians to Charlie Finley in Kansas City for one aged Dale Long type to secure their pennant run in the final week or two of the season. Of course, those trades eventually decimated the once proud pinstripe brigade who were sold to CBS and floundered for years before they came back to prominence.

    Many will claim the ABA wasn’t really pro ball. But, if it is to be considered minor league, I sure did enjoy watching Dr. J dance in free flight to the rim for the Virginia Squires of the old American Basketball Association.

    I love minor league sports teams just as I love weekly racing at local tracks.

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