​Ice Ice Baby…

One look at me and you will immediately notice my stature – or lack thereof. I’m short; most of my family members are short. We’ve been ridiculed and mocked and teased relentlessly over the years. But while I personally don’t measure up on the growth chart, I more than make up for it with my very vocal personality and fiery Irish temper. I will unload on anyone who has pushed my buttons or is picking on someone who can’t or won’t fight back.

I watch a lot of football, baseball and hockey and of course I root for my home teams – The Pittsburgh Steelers, Pirates and Pens. My true sports passion is hockey. I don’t attend a lot of games because my snobbery attitude of wanting seats down near the ice conflicts with the contents of my pocketbook. I usually go to at least 1 game a season and I watch the others on TV.

I feel a kinship with my hockey players. I empathize with them – how dare that player from the other team strip the puck from him! That’s when I leap from the couch and yell, “Slam him! Slaaaaaaam him! Rap him with your stick!”

I get excited when there’s a fight! I fist pump my arm and scream, “Fight! Fight! Fight!” The more players that leap into the fray and pile onto jerk from the other team, the merrier I get.

I have discovered that if I have had a bad day at work and there’s a hockey game on that night, I can release so much of my pent-up frustration and anger. As my Pens players shove an opponent up against the wall, I imagine that it is me out there on the ice in full uniform and I mentally yell, “Take that you lousy no-good rotten *%$#@!” I suspect that if I were a hockey player, I would be in the penalty box for the majority of the game.

You may want to keep all of this in mind and think twice about ticking me off or you may just end up being crosschecked by moi. I’m easily recognizable; I’m the little short granny in a Pens jersey who will be struggling to stay upright on her skates. Oh – and I will be wielding a big stick and yelling. All’s fair in love --- and hockey.