Here’s how you know things are bad

A post in which the young author is held computerless for almost two weeks.

I won’t bore you with the details of how badly my computer’s manufacturer botched a diagnosis of a faulty, noisy fan, except to say that the situation was so bad that the company more or less confiscated my laptop since early last week and I’ve just gotten back and working properly today. In the time between then and now, I’ve kept up with everything because of my fortuitous decision to get an iPhone about two weeks before my computer crapped itself.

So let’s review what I’ve missed that was of any great consequence in the 11 or so days since I’ve been without the ability to comment on it here.

…….

….

…

Okay, so the fact that it’s August means that there is nothing whatsoever to talk about. Instead, everyone got worked up over a bunch of crap that, had it been January, wouldn’t have been a big deal.

Oh boy, Patrick Kane beat up some old guy over a ludicrously small amount of money. That was a fun couple of days. Granted, this would have been a marginally big deal in January, but not as big a deal as everyone made out of it. “He’s a criminal,” they screamed from the highest rooftops. “He’s ruining the sport’s image!” End result: slap on the wrist and the kid doesn’t do time. Who cares? Patrick Kane couldn’t hurt the sport’s image if he had been caught giving David Ortiz’s steroids to Mike Vick’s dogs with Michael Phelps’ bong (I swear I hate making references like this, but it is at least somewhat illustrative of the point I’m trying to make, so here we are). It has no image of which to speak here in the States, and Kane would have to do a lot worse than punch some old guy to even slightly injure the sport’s stature in Canada.

The kid’s 20 years old (raise your hand if you done something regrettable while intoxicated and below the legal drinking age), and I’ve never been one to care what “OUR ATHLETES” do off the field/ice/court because it’s none of my business. Patrick Kane isn’t some rogue threat to society that’s going to kill every cabbie he sees for the rest of his life. I know this is a shocking revelation (or at least would be if it were last weekend).

Seriously, I go away for 11 days and that’s the only thing worth talking about?

Oh but wait, the NHL TV schedule got announced. Everyone’s nice and ripped up about that, aren’t they? Boo hoo, my team only has one game on national television here in the United States. Guess what: that’s a good thing. If watching Calgary at Chicago in mid-October is the only time I have to suffer through a Flames game on the intolerable network Versus has always been, then I’m better off.

I understand the concern of fans in some markets, like Florida or Phoenix, where not every game is on television. They don’t get every game on television down there (which makes the NHL look like, if you’ll forgive the coming pun, a rink-a-dink operation) but whaddaya want? I even get the concern from Canadians who worry that their tax dollars are going toward the BBC, which shows nothing but Leafs, Habs and Canucks games. But if you’re an out-of-market fan of any team in the league, you can see at least 75 of your team’s games with Center Ice, and frankly, the $149 US I pay per season for this wonderful privelege is a small price to pay for the ability to watch, what, probably five hours of hockey on any given night? I’d be a fool not to pay even if the price doubled.

And finally, Dany Heatley continued his crusade to irritate everyone in the hockey media by not only saying nothing, but saying nothing about saying nothing. Great. Hope the whole thing blows up in everyone’s faces.

All of this, by the way, has me wondering something: why didn’t I just wait until October to return?