Yes, I know the Red Wings were in town (4-3 in O/T – thanks, boys, but did we really have to make it that close?), but tonight I opted for the Fire game instead. First off, the pregame in the concourse was eventful – Coz regaled us with a fabulous set of tunes from the 80s and 90s…
…while Sparky, the Fire mascot (also known as ‘dalmation suit guy’) alternately tried to dance with us (we weren’t dancing) and mocked Coz mercilessly. As Coz aptly put it, “Hey, I’m still playing the stage at Soldier Field!” I don’t think I was supposed to mention which stage.
The game itself was a good deal more tense than we would have liked – what with the myriad scoring opps in the first half and the many many (I lost count at 7) corner kicks in the second half, it was hard for us to imagine that the game wasn’t won until halfway through the first period of overtime.
Even more distressing was the part where yours truly got clocked in the jaw by a flagpole. Yeah, you heard right: some drunk-ass dude got a hold of one of the flags and was waving it over the crowd like he just didn’t care. He dipped about 10 feet too low, and the pole actually dipped below my neck, only to snap back and hit me squarely across the right side of my jaw on the way back up. I’m hoping that a combination of the cold and the bourbon will keep the bruising at bay; if not, I’m going to look like I got in a bar fight. And shut up, you. It’s not my style. (you should’ve seen the other guy…)
A good time was had by all, in the end, and there’s still nothing quite as cool as 200+ people singing and chanting in unison, even if they’re being led in said songs and cheers by a series of extremely drunk and often abusive eastern europeans…
Next week, the finals in LA. Go Fire!