Ice Hockey

Now I’m no stranger to hockey. I went to a British all-girls school and played field hockey a couple of times a week. I even got a merit note for my lunge tackle (I was really aiming for Sally’s ankles but accidentally got the ball… and a merit note). But last night I went to watch a little ice hockey in Fayetteville, NC. We made it a full one and a half minutes into the game before the first full-on, helmets-and-gloves-off fist fight on the ice.

Seriously? How does someone piss someone else off enough in a minute and a half to warrant a fight? 30 minutes of blocking and tripping? Sure. But a minute and a half?
I suggested to my husband that it was like wrestling — a little theatrical display to thrill the masses — but he assures me not. Hmmmm.
Anyway, the Mississippi Surge was a far superior team, both in ability and looks, so obviously the better team won.
Score: Fireantz – 2, Surge – 5 (and a couple of teeth).

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