That was the message from my mom after she got caught up on my blog."
"What?" I laughed, admittedly a little indulgently, but yeah, I laughed. Then she threw down the gauntlet.
"Build me a blog. I can do better."
"I sent you to college and that's the only word you know now? You're too nice. I'll be more honest."
"Mom, I'm honest. It's just that I write about stuff I like."
She gave me The Look. So I built her a blog. And I have to admit she's definitely telling it like it is in the world according to "Dirtsister". The thing is, if you met her she would come across as the sweetest, most genteel, well read lady to have ever drawn breath. However there's this dirty little secret about Southern Women: When it comes to sports, they can bring the haterade like nobody's business.
There's no reason this should have come as a surprise. I grew up in a Dallas Cowboys Tom'n'Roger household and God help you if you even looked like you were going to offer aid and comfort to the Washington Redskins or their fans. To be honest, I thought that this was a football thing or a seventies thing or some other kind of thing that was a part of the past.
And then the NHL All-Stars Game happened and my mother got her first look at Alexander Ovechkin.
"I don't like him." she said, "He looks like a smart aleck. Do you like him?"
"Well, he's creative on the ice and he's always fun to watch."
Mom watched him and frowned.
"Who does he play for?" she asked.
"Washington." I said.
"I knew it!" She barked.
From then on Ovi8 became Boris Badunov to her Moose and Squirrel. Lucky for him, the regular season was over and the Caps had fallen to
She hates them all. She hates their fans. She hates their color commentators. It's an ambient kind of hate beam that falls on anything dressed in red and white that skates around a puck. Oh, every now and then she'll narrow her focus. There was the time she submitted Michael Babcock's picture to the "Women Who Look Like Old Lesbians" blog. And there's her thing about Marian Hossa. This dates back to Marian's first fight as a Red Wing. It was with her beloved Ryan Suter. You don't mess with Suter. (Or Pekka, or "Little Ryan"** or Erat...) So now, the big red-headed guy, (I know...Which one???) is known in Mom's world as "Mary Ann Hoser".
You think it's scary reading about this? Today she actually demanded to know if I liked the Red Wings.
"Please don't hurt me." I murmured.
"It's five months until the regular season starts."
"Get out of my house."
She's calmed down, but I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop. Maybe they'll give me a nifty Preds gimme shirt when I graduate from re-education camp.
Want to visit Dirtsister's blog? She'd love to see you there!
OFF MY CHEST (because everyone is entitled to my opinion)
*Okay, being a Nashville Predators fan means that admitting any weakness for the Wheels'n'Wings will lead to eight weeks in a re-education center where you spend twelve hours a day eating raw meat and looking at old beefcake photos of Jason Arnott while an audio loop that says "Honestly, we love you, Sully! Please don't go!" plays nonstop until the lights go out and you are allowed to sleep on a Kroger Green Bag on the damp concrete floor of the site of the Union Station train shed for three minute intervals until the sun comes up. In other words, I am engaging in risky behavior here...
I like the Red Wings.
There. I said it.
** Ryan Jones. It doesn't matter that he might be bigger or older or have more years in pro hockey. Suter was first to the Preds roster so Jones will always be "Little Ryan". Welcome to the South.
copyright 2009 jas faulkner