He Shoots, He Doesn’t Score

My friend George Taylor paged me this morning with a simple question, “Do you want to go to a Phoenix Coyote hockey game tonight?” I quickly checked my calendar, Mallorie’s Middle School Band Concert 7:30 PM. “Sure”, I responded back. I knew I should go to my daughter’s band concert, but who could choose listening to a hundred struggling student musicians over watching three periods of fighting and an occasional goal. I am sure the family will understand. After all, I had to suffer through shopping for beds for a whole month. I should at least get time off for good behavior. Surprisingly, Trina agreed that I should probably spend some time out of the house. I think she is still a little freaked out about the spring dance the other morning though I keep telling her it was just a bad dream, I don’t think she is buying it. With the family’s blessings, George and I went downtown to America West Arena. The drive seemed so natural like I had done it 167 times before. I have gotten so that I could probably drive it in my sleep. Imagine my surprise when I noticed that I was parked in the Bank One Ballpark parking lot where I usually do for the baseball games. I found myself less interested in the hockey game and more interested in knowing whether they were ready to lay the new sod on the playing field. I went to the game and as I watched the Coyotes lose 2-0, I couldn’t help notice that I was the only one wearing an Arizona Diamondbacks jersey and hat. What is up with these people. They are less than 400 yards away from Bank One Ballpark and no one was wearing purple pinstripes. There are times I really have to wonder about where society is going.

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