Hello dear reader and welcome to a new day! There are many things to be happy about today. In the weirdo non-sports watching world, apparently the finale of some show called Lost will be on this week as well as American Idol (stabs eardrums) and some other shit I won't be watching. In the world of things that actually matter, the Blackhawks have moved on to the Western Conference Final after making Roberto Luongo look like a snivelling schoolboy last night. The Cubs are playing good baseball (that's called sarcasm) and the Cardinals still have not had major steroid scandal! (Yet) Oh, and one more thing, last night I witnessed the greatest miracle of all, a sports miracle.Act 1
As many of you know, the PBR has pretty much designated the Bullpen as one of the best places in town to watch a game. Some people apparently have not gotten this message. Last night I went there with a few staff members to watch our beloved Blackhawks make whimpering pussies out of the hated Vancouver Canucks. The game was on the big TV, the audio was piping through the jukebox and all was right with the world. That is, until some douchebag decided that his taste in music trumped the masses' desire to watch AND LISTEN TO playoff hockey. As I sat there listening to the Foo Fighters (yes, he actually paid money to play them) I thought to myself; Someone should really do something about this but I am helpless without my computer. Just then, a hero emerged. At first, I wasn't sure what was going on but a person who looked to be a manager was talking to a large, fairly intoxicated gentleman, near the bar. He seemed to be making a case for something. Then all of a sudden, the music stopped and the sound of pucks and sticks and body checks and Pat Foley's voice flowed beautifully through the speakers. The FooDouche said "What the fuck?" and I joined several people in cheering. Our hero, who's name is Tom exclaimed "It's the goddamn playoffs!" Truer words have never been spoken. Tom then told the FooDouche to "blame me" to which the FooDouche did nothing because, well you just don't fuck with an American Hero like Tom.
Intermission
Before I continue, I must make a plea to the owners/operators of the Bullpen. I understand that you are in the business of making money and that many people enjoy inflicting their taste of music upon everyone else and that by doing so, you make a shitload of cash. I also understand that on a Tuesday night in early summer there might not be a big game on TV. However, last night was not the case. Last night was a pivotal Game 6 that involved the Chicago Blackhawks. I fully appreciate the fact that if this game did not involve a team from Chicago or St. Louis that there would be very little chance you would even play the game let alone turn the audio on. The fact remains that the majority of the people present at the Pen last night were either indifferent to or in support of turning the music off and turning the game on. If I could make a suggestion it would be to play the game when it is on. During the 15 minute intermissions, let people play the jukebox, this should make everyone happy. Or don't play the jukebox at all, you wouldn't hear any complaints from me. After all, it's called Bullpen Sports Bar, not Bullpen Come Here and Play Your Shitty Music While Good Honest Law Abiding Americans Try To Watch Sports Bar! (TM)
Act 2
Sometime in the Second (2nd) Period, the jukebox came back on and there was once again sadness in the world. Tom, to put it mildly, was not pleased. He began an emotinal plea to once again have the music turned off exclaiming, "I want the whole bar to hear me, this is bullshit, this is the goddamn playoffs!" I felt the urge to come to Tom's aid, but realized I had better just stay put or risk exposing my true identity, thereby disabling myself from telling you, dear reader, about this amazing experience. Tom continued to voice his dissatisfaction as the bouncer and manager approached. Please don't let it end like this, I thought. After some time the manager calmed Tom down and the Second (2nd) Period came to a close. End Scene.
Act 3
As I settled down for the Third (3rd) Period and some lovely Nickleback (because apparently people like them), I noticed that Tom had left. He had finally had enough. Just as the puck was about to drop, the music stopped and once again, all was right with the world. The game audio remained on for the rest of the game and FooDouche, I think, finally realized that there was a pretty important hockey game on and that the majority of the people at the Pen were there to listen to the game, not his music. Unfortunately, for Tom he left too early to enjoy the fruits of his labor. He might have been a little tired though, I heard him say he had been there since 4:00, which if true, earns him a big AttaBoy!
So, Tom if you are out there, on behalf of sports fans everywhere, I thank you. I thought I was alone, I thought I was the only one with a feverish desire for Gameday Audio but now I know I'm not alone. You weren't there to see our victory but know, that it would never have been possible if not for you. Plus the Hawks won, by a lot. God Speed Good Sir, and may our Paths cross again soon! This one's for you, Tom. And for you FooDouche, that's called Real Music.
