Seventeen years ago “Mighty Ducks” turned me into a hockey fan. That’s officially over half my life. Very odd for someone who was born and raised in Texas and a sport that was born and raised in Canada. Before Norm Green moved the Stars to Dallas about the only thing the countries of Canada and Texas had in common was a love for beer and the ability to produce a good bull rider. Now, there is absolutely no doubt Texas is THE predominant hockey state in the South and kids are growing up in Dallas loving the Stars just as much as the Cowboys, Rangers or Mavericks. There are two main reasons for its popularity: the Stars have produced Dallas’ only championship in 14 years…and Mike Modano.

Meeting Modano for the first time, 1994

Although it was pretty much apparent at the end of this season that Modano was more than likely not returning, the Stars officially sealed the deal yesterday. So it’s time to say goodbye. When it came to the growth of a sport, Modano was twice the hockey ambassador to Dallas than Gary Bettman only wished Sidney Crosby was to the United States. Our appreciation for the game, mine specifically, is about 90% thanks to him. In 17 years I’ve only had two actual legitimate favorite players, Mike Modano and Jamie Langenbrunner. The others (such as Petr Buzek) were total personal infatuations and took on a stalking life of their own. So basically, Modano will forever be King of Hockey in my world and in this neck of the woods. I call mutiny if 9 isn’t hanging from the rafters of American Airlines Center before the first puck drops next season.

Modano wants to keep playing and should he do so, seeing him in another jersey won’t be anything less than weird and heartbreaking. I want him to be happy, so a fresh start (as with Marty Turco) just might do the trick. I agree with Mike Heika, “a happy Modano would be fun to watch“.

I know this isn’t officially goodbye, as much as Mike loves Dallas, it’s more like see you later…just not on our ice in our colors. All I ask, for the love, don’t go all Favre on us, Mo.

Oh captain, my captain

Last year I went all out on here the first time the Stars came to LA to play the Kings by detailing my top 15 hockey memories (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3). My brain has ruminated for two days on how to honor the occasion this year. It must be significant enough to help me forget the fact I’m leaving on a damn red eye for Orlando out of Hell-A-X immediately following the game. Blurgh. I’ve thought about it and thought about it. Over-analyzing comes easy to me, I am female. And I’d much rather be over-analyzing which silly hockey story to post rather that “OMG WHY HASN’T HE CALLED ME?! I DIE”. Cause jesus, we’re annoying.

Anyway, those original three posts already lay out my very favorite, most important legitimate hockey memories. Therefore, I’m going a little whackadoodle and a little girly with this one.

I’m going with the time Brenden Morrow actually knew who I was.

The man recognized me, greeted me…and I responded NOT with “hey Brenden, what’s up? how’s it going? why the hell are you hanging out with Sim?” No, no…I answered with something akin to “meh”. Not “meh” as in I’m completely indifferent to that or I think Cougar Town is just meh (this is well before the interwebs ruled the world and “meh” became synonymous with “I can take it or leave it”). I mean “meh” as in my mouth opened and that’s what involuntarily came out. I was stunned, to say the very least.

It was the last pre-season at Reunion Arena (may it rest in peace). This was before SHE came into the picture. Stars fans, you know who I speak of. I do not use her name. Brenden and I could’ve had an AMAZING player/fan relationship had SHE not come along. I raised him from a kid, dammit! (BTW, he’s scant older than me). Did SHE go to Portland to see him play with the Winterhawks? Did SHE demand that the K-Wings booster club to take good care of him those few games he spent in the minors? Probably not, because SHE didn’t know who he was then and wasn’t, you know, a lunatic. But that’s beside the point.

I did go to Portland to see him play with the Winterhawks (I do believe that’s in the hockey memory posties) and I would have gotten to see him play with the K-Wings, but as expected, he didn’t last long before getting called up for good. The one and only time I willed a player to get sent down, that’s how sick I was. However, that last pre-season brought one glorious moment. I honestly don’t even think I went to the game that night, do believe I had to work. I think me, my college roommate and this one pathological liar friend of ours just headed up towards the end of the game to hang out at the Stars Club afterward (oh, Stars Club…). Cause really, stalking came so easily then. Easier than going to class, that’s for sure. There we were, having a seat. Brenden walked in with Sim (I’m gonna assume they hung out with that doosh out of pity), I happened to look up about the time he looked over and he goes “Hey!”

And I said “meh.”

Not too longer after that SHE came along. Did I mention SHE went to the same university as me? Right?! You didn’t think it got worse, did you? Oh let’s not even bring up who her father is. Cause I might puke. But anyway, the rest you know. He made the team for good…and is now the captain. I didn’t want to have the man’s babies (note: I have the ability to delete comments). BUT, he could’ve been the first player I followed from the juniors to captain in the NHL. Instead of minors to a few games in the NHL to some team in the Austrian countryside to being a fireman.

Having said that, did SHE meet his host family in Portland?! NO.

So there. Go Stars. BTdubs, he doesn’t know me from a fan in the second row now. I’m okay with that. Sorta.

1999 was a good year, Readers. That’s the year the Stars won the Cup and although it was AMAZING, it ended up rather bittersweet. You know how in relationships sex changes everything? In sports, championships change everything. I’ve touched on this before, but to recap..the Stars were rather accessible (a little to accessible at times) before Lord Stanley came to Dallas. Practices were completely open, players were cool, ticket prices were awesome and I knew the ins and outs of Reunion Arena like the back of my hand. The Stanley Cup and American Airlines Center being built changing all that, coupled with me generally growing up, forced my hockey life into the shitter.

Triple, triple, toil and trouble

I honestly never thought I could get my mojo back. Oh me of little faith. In an effort to mentally escape the terror that is work right now, I’ve spent the last couple of days getting hockeyfied. Holy pucks, it feels good. Like the perfect margarita kinda good. I’ve been reading blogs, skimming season previews from all over, watching videos, analyzing Brenden Morrow’s various hairstyles, wondering what moisturizer Modano uses cause his skin looks too good for his age and the life I know he’s led AND I joined a fantasy hockey team – time to get back in the know. In addition, I took advantage of the internet and old hockey friends to find a new player to love on. It’s like online dating, but a very, very Nikki version.

Someone should warn Matt Niskanen. Or at least tell him he’s lucky I’m 1200 miles away. Cause I used to be good at this game and I’m assuming it’s like riding a bike.

Player obsessions aside, I LOVE hockey. I’ve never figured out how and why I took to it as fast and as well as I did back in 1993. I was 13 and not really into anything other than a dwindling fascination with Christian Slater and the kid who played Spot in Newsies. I grew up in Texas in a rodeo family, something I wasn’t ever quite into despite my mother’s numerous attempts. Hockey was foreign where I came from, but new, intriguing and eventually helped shaped my individuality. I was hockey when hockey wasn’t cool. I owe my best high school and college memories to hockey, hockey players and hockey friends. I don’t think I ever really lost that part of my life, it’s still been there, aging like a fine wine perhaps? I sipped a little of it last year. But now it feels like I’m coming home. And I think it’s time for a welcome home party, yes? *cue music from someone getting her sass on in a CW preview here*

Have a happy NHL opening weekend, Readers! For Stars/hockey fans visiting CLSL for the first time, what I refer to as “My Hockey History” can be found here: Part 1, Part 2 and Part 3. But you’ve been warned, it’s a wicked trip down memory lane.

One of my other favorite lady-ran sports blogs is Ladies… They’re on my blogroll (well, will be on it when it have it up and running again) and I follow them on Twitter. Today they had a post regarding pro athletes use of Twitter and the recent social networking crackdown from the NFL. They asked what we think, I almost commented…but realized that my comment was turning into an entire ramble that was more fitting for, well, here.

I’m absolutely fascinated by the tweets of all these football players. Martellus Bennett is on the Cowboys so I love him, but he is batshit crazy. But as long as he catches the ball, fool can be all sorts of crazy. TO’s bible verses were, what’s the right word, uncomfortable? Completely random? I’ll just go with odd. Pics of his recent mani/pedi were kinda like a train wreck, you just had to keep looking (much like the entire TO Show). Chris Cooley is a douche, but he’s on my fantasy team so I have to grin and bear it. OchoCinco…is self explanatory. But like the Ladies pointed out, it’s the little things I find interesting: what a player thought about a movie he just watched…or what song(s) he’s listening to get pumped up for a game. That part is no different than me saying “ugh, stuck in bloody traffic on the 101 AGAIN, but hey I’ve got Bob Schneider to keep me company” They’re multimillion dollar pro athletes, but they’re also varying forms of normal, just like us.

[Let's pause whilst I think about what it would be like to really have Bob to keep me company...]

I can look at this whole sitch as two different versions of me. The Nikki from over 10 years ago and the Nikki of today. Nikki from today is (on paper) mature, grown up, only internet stalks guys she’s actually involved with on some level (or was), is a huge football and hockey fan still, but is all about being a fan instead of going googly for a player. OKAY, aside from that whole Miles Austin thing, which is why I hope blue eyes NEVER gets a damn Twitter. But for the big pros who do have Twitters, Facebooks or official pages, I think it’s absolutely wonderful and in the age of the deteriorating player image, it’s the best thing that could’ve happen. Especially for poor hockey.

If the Twitter bird can make the playoffs in goal, the Stars should sign him

However, high school/college Nikki was bananas for hockey players. More on that can be found here, here and here. I think about what it would’ve been like if Twitter and Facebook existed THEN and my brain partially strokes out. (My college roommate is totes going to have a major *facepalm* moment when she reads that). I would have been absolutely uncontrollable. I already knew enough, I already made a big enough fool out of myself and I already put myself in plenty of a precarious situations. I’m not even talking about the biggies like Mike Modano and Jamie Langenbrunner. I’m talking about the pups, the rookies, the ones who were already way too accessible to me. Sweet Jesus I loved those boys. Petr could’ve been like “boozer25: going to play game now” and I woulda been all “nikkihearts25: @boozer25 OMG I LOVE YOU AND WILL HAVE 10,000 OF YOUR BABIES.” Now given, I’m overestimating Petr’s use of the English language at the time and underestimating what ability I did actually have to control myself and the words that came out of my mouth. But you get my point.

I was a good girl little girl with stars in my eyes (no pun intended) though, despite what it sounds like, and although I was a basket case over at least two players over the years, I handled myself well most of the time. But for every one of me? There were a dozen crazyspices out there who didn’t quite have my boundaries. I knew a few and although I turned in my Official Player Stalking Club card years ago, I’m assuming they still exist in minor league arenas all throughout the country. THAT is why Twitter worries me. For all these little manchildren playing in the minors out there, oy vey for them.

Can’t lie, now my brain is working on would’ve been tweets for some of the other guys. At least the ones it wouldn’t have completely dumbfounded. *cough*Jon*cough*

Update: the blogroll is back. I know you were worried.

So CLSL is official. The beginning of our new layout is up and running. It’s far from finished, but we’ll get there. I absolutely love it so far. Anyhow…let’s talk pre-season.

There are those who don’t give two thoughts about pre-season and have no patience for it, those who follow it lightly…then there are those, like me, who think it’s one of the best times of a season. September was the most important month of my life in high school and most of college due to hockey pre-season. I skipped the occassional morning class in college for training camp and arranged my work schedule around pre-season games. That’s about as rebellious as I got until I started drinking. And trust me, there was a good reason why my hockey player stalking days were well before my drinking days.

For me and hockey, training camp meant the young guys were in town. But once they started getting younger than me, that just got a little creepy! (So says the girl who previously stated she’s waiting for Taylor Lautner to turn 18…) For any sport though, it’s predominantly a very exciting part of the season. It’s the one time a year that every player on the field is working his ass off for something: getting over that previous season ending injury, dusting off the off-season cobwebs, moving up a spot, grabbing a position on the starting line-up, landing a new or bigger contract or most importantly, just making the team. The possibilities are endless…I mean who would’ve thought this time last year the Cardinals would’ve ended their season in the Super Bowl? During pre-season everything is still bright and shiny. It’s after Thanksgiving when things start getting dark, fuzzy and depressing once you realize your QB is going to go stupid on you yet again.

Although pre-season is indeed the epitome of possibility, it’s pretty ridiculous to leverage a season worth of potential on ONE DROPPED PASS. Or, perhaps, a pass that couldn’t even be caught? John Kitna sent a soaring pass clear over Miles Austin’s head last Friday against the Titans. Romo did the same thing against the Raiders. A couple of days later I searched Miles’s name on Twitter. Huge mistake. People are morons. Shortly after someone properly reported Kitna overthrowing the pass to Austin, several idiots tweeted comments like “Austin you had your chance, you’re out”. Wait, seriously? The man has has a 43″ vertical, yes, but where exactly was he supposed to catch that pass? Two rows up in the stands? Everyone fancies themselves a head coach right now and it’s grating. I’m not retarded, I know Crayton more than likely has a hold on the 2nd spot. But he’s YET to prove he can consistently hold on to the ball. None of us have seen every hour of training camp. And it’s damn ridiculous for anyone, especially a knowledgeable, professional journalist to judge his long-term capability on having three chances, including the two that were overthrown, in two games. For example, from the JJT over at the DMN:

Miles Austin has been OK, but hasn’t showed he can be a legitimate speed threat.

First of all, we already know he’s fast. Second of all, it would be kinda ludicrous for him to blaze a flipping trail down the field WITHOUT THE BALL. Just saying. At least MILES agrees with me:

But Austin isn’t worried about his lack of preseason production. He’s still confident that he’ll play a significant role in the passing game this season.

“I’d rather do it in the season when it really counts and matters,” said Austin, who split time with Sam Hurd in three-receiver sets against the Titans. “I’m making sure I’m at my spot, making sure I’m at my depth and trying to get open. If they throw me that ball, that’s fine. If they don’t, as long as we’re winning …”

And YES…I’m completely biased. I’m not ashamed. (Have I mentioned at least 80% of my visitors are searching Miles Austin?)

BTW, fantasy draft is now this weekend. And I have a birthday party in Hollywood to go to the night before. Rules were meant to be broken I suppose.

I’ve given in and joined this thing, Twitter, that all the kids are talking about these days. Basically, I want to follow Shaq like everyone else. If you’d like to follow me (as my first tweet states, I’ll be much more entertaining once it’s actually football season – wait, is it ever NOT football season? – but I’ll do my best) you can do so by adding lilsportslady.

Work is a hot mess as our biggest convention/trade show of the year is quickly approaching, the upshot is that means a week in The Vegas. However, this weekend will begin an overall makeover of CLSL, I’m about to get an actual domain and pimp this thing out. Until then, these are the sports related thoughts of the voices in my head

1. Welcome to day 13 of waiting for the Cowboys to sign Miles Austin. That’s right, I’m a one lady army of unnecessary anticipation even though it’s only MARCH 12. Yes, even *I* know how ridiculous I am. There’s a #19 jersey in my closet that’s fine for now, but at some point I won’t be able to keep it from drowning its depression in the open bottle of Grey Goose.

2. Ain’t gonna lie to you, twas a little weird seeing T.O. in Buffalo garb. It halfway tugged on a heart string, but then I kinda got off on thinking about how he can now screw with the Patriots twice a year. And because I love sports shenanigans 10 times more than anything on Dlisted, can’t wait to see who is the bigger big mouth of the AFC East, Eldorado or J Pizzy.

3. Uh, where was I when Marion Barber was throwing down $14K on a bar tab? 3000 miles away – UNFAIR.

4. “Modano can’t be expected to save Dallas Stars“…WOW, the year 2003 welcomes you, JJT.

5. Does Travis Henry not know what causes babies? For serious.

6. Blessed be the Broncos for causing more drama than the Cowboys.

I heart birthdays

Sunday begins my birthweek. YES, I get a whole week because 1) I am a girl and we get what we want, 2) I call shenanigans on only celebrating one day and 3) I am THAT awesome. Therefore, let’s talk PRESENTS.

1. Thank you to the NHL for sending the Dallas Stars to Los Angeles next Thursday, the day after my birthday. That was generous of you on several levels – not only picking my week of birth, but also avoiding my actual night of birth so I can go drink.

2. Thank you to the NHL Network for hosting a free preview next week. Seriously, you’re spoiling me. You’re already sending me the Stars, but now I get to watch all the hockey games I want for five whole days?! That’s amazing…because not only will I be ABLE to watch hockey on the television set, I might actually do so. Crazy!

3. NFL free agency started today. Being the selfless individual I am, I would actually like to give Terrell Owens away for my birthday. Some might call that too generous…I say no, no it’s the LEAST I can do.

4. As a present to myself, I am going to Tony Parker’s wife’s (I love her) restaurant for my birthday dinner. There will be much tequila, tacos, guacamole and get this – sweet potato tater tots! Can. Not. Wait. I’ve been trying to go there since it damn well opened.

A must have for every Cowboys fangirl

5. My birthday is obviously and unfortunately (or fortunately?!) close to the recently celebrated Valentine’s Day. Most girls love flowers, candy and all of the stereotypical gifts of choice. But we’ve more than established by now I’m not most girls. So someone finally figured out how to woo me properly and got me BOYS WILL BE BOYS for Valentine’s.  Raise your hand if your wife/girlfriend would’ve killed you. Tis a damn shame there’s only one of me to go around, I know.

I honestly couldn’t care less about Sean Avery either way. The stunt he pulled against Brodeur was heinous…anything a player does to cause a rule change during a damn game? Utterly heinous. There’s no doubt this ass hole has caused plenty of dirty, rotten issues during his NHL career. The league has had plenty of chances to kick him out for legitimate reasons. I never thought I’d be coming to the defense of such a dick, however…

“Uh, I’m really happy to be back in Calgary. I love Canada.

“And I just want to comment on how it’s become like a common thing in the NHL for guys to fall in love with my sloppy seconds. I don’t know what that’s about.

“Enjoy the game tonight.”

…is NOT an upstanding reason to suspend a player indefinitely. I don’t give a damn there are provisions under “NHL By-Law 17 and Article 6 of the NHL Constitution for conduct “detrimental to the League or game of hockey,” Call me crazy (ha!) but him making a backhanded comment about Dion Phaneuf banging Elisha Cuthbert is just shit talking and not detrimental to the game. Give me a break and let them take it out on the ice. Like HOCKEY PLAYERS. Bettman is sucking the soul out of this game one horrific decision at a time. (How’s the Versus contract working out for you, fellow fans?!)

These damn Dallas athletes (and the copious amounts of caffeine I’ve ingested today) have got me all fired up. For some reason, flashes of Avery and Pacman sipping on Hennessy at the Ghostbar are violently flashing through my head. Although it’s only in my imagination, those two need blinged out BFF necklaces.

Sigh. At least neither shot themselves in the damn leg. At an Applebee’s. And used a fake name. Douchebag.

With everything I read and watch about sports, it’s sometimes difficult to retain ALL the information. I have to leave SOME room for shoes, what happened on this week’s Grey’s Anatomy and actual current events. And there’s only so many brain cells left that alcohol hasn’t killed (those we lost, they put up a good fight). I tend to remember the info under the categories of “random crap” or “crap I disagree with”.

FOR EXAMPLE, sometime last week I caught up on some Stars reading at the Dallas Morning News website. Mike Heika has always been the main man for the Stars over there and I’ve generally never had issues with him. He was hockey when hockey wasn’t cool. However, during a recent Q&A this is pretty much how it went…

Q: What should the Stars do about Coach Tippett? A. Blah blah blah or wait till the summer.

Q: What should the Stars do about Marty Turco? A. Blah blah blah, no trade clause, blah blah blah or wait till the summer.

Q: What should the Stars do about this ridiculous system of having two GMs? Especially two GMs who have compeletley different playing philosophies? A. WAIT FOR IT…blah blah blah or wait till the summer.

DUDE, it’s freakin’ DECEMBER! I don’t care to wait until goddamn June to fix my bottom the the barrel team. A

Would the real Turco please come home?!

team that, need I remind you, made it to the Western Conference Finals last season. Please to be fixing them sometime within the near futute, thanks! Heika’s argument is that in the 15 years the Stars have been in Dallas, we’ve rarely seen lean times. I call shenanigans. With the talent this team has, how far they got last season, there is no excuse. My advice? Ditch a GM and make a change in coach. I guarantee you, we’ll at least get our goalie back in form if that goes down. I know things.

Maybe I’m a little bit frightened that I find myself checking to see how the Kings did before I see if the Stars even played. Just because IF the Stars did play, the inevitable outcome would be another kick in the balls. (Please note I don’t actually have balls).

Speaking of disgruntled fans, EXAMPLE TWO, I was watching today’s PTI while whipping up some din din and one of the boys, while discussing the fate of Donovan McNabb, said Philly fans are all about “what have you done for me lately.” This comment has me torn in two. The bitch in me who loathes Philly fans says kharma is a dirty whore and she’ll f*ck you over when she can. Therefore, if you put a little more nice into the universe you might just get a little bit more back! However, the sypathetic fan in me (and I’m not happy about saying this…) wonders if you can really blame them for being dicks about it? The Eagles have never been able to seal the deal. Although that colors me all sorts of giddy (sitting on top of 5 Super Bowl championships, no less), it has to suck to be them. Having said that, hell hath not frozen over, I will never be able to tolerate them (there’s an exception to every rule, however) and they’ve got the World Series to nurse for awhile…just saying I CAN look at two signs of the coin. Otherwise, I’d be contradicting all the whining I just did about the Stars. Think about it.

Continued from A fire I can’t put out and I’d like to have that one back:

In honor of the Stars first appearance at the Staples Center this season and celebrating 15 YEARS of hockey fandom, I’ve decided to put together a list of my Top 15 Favorite Hockey Memories.

I heart Canada

11. 1999: Oh, Canada. At one time, I had this uncanny ability to make friends with players’ ex-girlfriends or really good female friends. I still don’t know how it all happened, but hey, they liked me. Probably because my pudgy, nerdy, star-struck, infatuated younger self was the least of threats. Or it was the Southern charm. Who knows. But one such friend, Ruthie, was in Canada, Nova Scotia to be exact. She was a longtime friend of Jon Sim. Great gal, wish we could get back in touch with her. MONTHS (please remember that part, MONTHS) before the Stars even made the playoffs, Leslie and I decided to travel to Canada to visit her. Getting to Halifax required a layover in Toronto coming to and from. We had some total good times…pretty much still my favorite trip that wasn’t intended to directly relate to anything hockey. Learning to drink in Halifax, continuing to learn how to drink even more in New Glasgow (those Canadians, man…), camping on Cape Breton Island and freaking Jon Sim completely the f*ck out…PRICELESS.

Fate has a major sense of humor. It’s taken me almost 10 years, but I can finally laugh about this trip. The two weeks we were in Nova Scotia happened to land right when Sim got his day with the Cup. During the planning process, we did everything we could to figure out how to avoid bumping into him, despite knowing we’d be running in his social circle. Naturally, Plan Avoid Jon Sim didn’t pan out too well. However, he’s not the brightest crayola in the box and forgot at some point in time we were there…or even that we exist! Leslie waited till Jon visited the loo and chased the Cup down and kissed it right where Joe Nieuwendyk’s name is engraved with the ‘87 Flames, I became pals with Jon’s brother (which led to an infamous night on the SMU campus a year later…let’s just say I WALKED into a stop sign) and turns out one of Jon’s childhood friends is the hottest guy I’ve met to this day. Chris Hale of New Glasgow, Nova Scotia…I love you.

It’s not every year two crazy fans happen upon a player’s day with the Cup in his hometown, drunk and delusional, on a river in the middle of nowhere Canada. Eh?

Me and Leslie showing our love to Lord Staley's Cup, Hockey Hall of Fame

On the way back to the United States of America, besides a stay in Toronto at The Scariest Hostel Ever, we popped into the Hockey Hall of Fame. Amazing. I can’t wait to go back one day. They have this ginormous wall-size picture of the current Stanley Cup champions leading into the trophy room. Being the dedicated fans we were, I asked a friendly looking family to take our photo with it, seeing as it was the Stars. Afterward, I thanked them and asked where they were from. They said Buffalo. I said, oh, um, I’m sorry…IT WAS TOTALLY A GOAL.

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