Trying To Catch Predator Fever

So the Nashville Predators head into the second round of the playoffs for the first time ever, I figured I would do my part to hop on the Predator bandwagon for the next month or so. Facebook posts ranging from "Anybody know what icing is?" to "GO PANTHERS!" prove that Music City has a scorching case of the kinda-cares about the Preds.

Judging by Wednesday's telecast, the crowd inside the arena had gone mad with Hockey Hysteria. That's the thing about hockey: It's awesome when you're there. I've been to Predators games, and they're really fun...when you're there. Unfortunately, hockey may be the worst sport to watch on TV.  Watching hockey is like watching soccer, only you can't see the ball or puck or whatever.

I don't mean to diss great players like Jordin Tootoo, Patric Hornqvist and Sergei Kostitsyn (don't those seem like prank names?), but I'm simply not a hockey guy. I don't have season tickets, so all I get to see is a boring, slow game that barely makes sense, in which gigantic Russians appear to be chasing after their imaginary friend. I stare at the screen intently, partially because I can't see the damn puck, and also because I always promise that this will be the moment that I catch Predators Fever. Then, about 3 minutes after making that vow, I'm checking my phone for hilarious cat videos, like this one:



LMAO!!

Where was I? Ah yes. I don't care about hockey. But keep in mind, that's only on TV. I've been swept up in the game every time I've attended, which is why I'd like to make the following proposal to the Nashville Predators: Give me a pair of season tickets, and if it makes me care more about the game, then I get to keep the tickets for eternity. Think on it, and I'll call you guys in the morning.