It's Saturday, so I wake up early and head to my teaching gig on Staten Island. I am mocked by a teenaged teacher's assistant and Devils fan who knows I like the Bruins, and was aware of the massacre on opening night. I graciously accept the mocking. One of hockey's great benefits is the way it allows you to befriend others by making them feel bad. I admit that I've been nervous about how many penalties Chara will draw in a league more dependent on speed than size, and we discuss it. I know that Chara has skills, but I'm still nervous after watching him in a preseason game against the Rangers. They shouldn't even put preseason games on TV- the urge to watch them is too strong.
I arrive home after a full day of teaching, and can't watch the Bruins play the Lightning. Instead, the lady and I go out to celebrate our good fortunes with a nice dinner at Churrascaria Plataforma, a Brazilian restaurant where you pay a flat fee, and waiters with swords walk up and slice huge pieces of meat right onto your plate. It's all you can eat, and by the time the guy came around with chicken wrapped in bacon, I thought I would die of joy. Or gluttony. It's easy to confuse those two sometimes.
On the one hand, I missed the the Bruins beating the Lightning, but on the other hand, I ate skirt steak off a bloody sword.
I'd call it a draw.
I ate this. All of it.
Still, I'm damn curious how Kessel played. He picked up his first assist of the season, and I'm looking forward to watching this kid.
I contemplated this the next day as well, while taking a nine pound dump.
They play the Islanders next week.
I'll get my chance.
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