Alternate title: Wherein I Learn Just How Small a Man Patrick Kane Can Be, Much to My Delight!
Read on for the full explanation - and visuals. This is a follow-up to my previous post here.
Not to be too self-indulgent about my experien...
Alternate title: Wherein I Learn Just How Small a Man Patrick Kane Can Be, Much to My Delight!
Read on for the full explanation - and visuals. This is a follow-up to my previous post here.
Not to be too self-indulgent about my experience last night on the glass at The Joe, but I wanted to create this follow-up post to share a few anecdotes, show a bit of what you couldn't (but Patrick Kane definitely DID) see, and thank you folks for the ideas that made an already extraordinary affair for me that much cooler. What I conceived as a short post became my personal memoir of the night. This all get less wordy and more picture booky as we go, so bear with me, or just skip the verbosity and see the fun stuff further down.
Preface: The Prep
After a night and morning well-spent, ready for the raising were Giant Jimmy Face on foamboard, Enlarged-and-in-Charged Mrs. Donna Kane on foamboard, unmounted backups of each (in the event the big boards were no-no'd at security) and the following five of "her" choicest quotations, along with five blank speech bubbles - just in case. Unfortunately, these weren't visible to the TV audience, but Patrick saw them...Oh did he see them.
In the order in which they were shown
"PATRICK THOMAS KANE! You missed your haircut AGAIN, young man!". Click to see
"Why can't you be more like that Zetterberg?" Click to see
"Dinner plans with Pavs. Don't wait up, Patrick. I hear he's MAGIC" Click to see
"Patrick, honey.... YOU'RE ADOPTED" Click to see
"Damn but Zetterberg's Royal Swedish balls are TASTY!".... RIP :n(
Chapter I: Gaining Entry
After several deep breaths and the chirp of the barcode scanner, I did my best to fly casual, but briskly, past the kindly folks who screen for killers, and profane signs apparently, among the visitors to The Joe. I was not successful. Something about the 4 ft poster of Jimmy tucked under my arm made me a bit conspicuous SOMEHOW.
The first usher, name erased from memory by the beer consumed later, asked politely to preview "what I had there". Me: "Oh, sure. Well, that's Jimmy." Usher: "Yea, and who's this one?" Me - choosing the foolish valor of honesty: "Donna Kane". Usher: Me:"Patrick Kane's Mom". What followed, three seconds of stunned silence and a bewildered expression from this Usher felt like a minor eternity, then Usher:"You're serious?" Me: "Yup" Usher: "I don't... Jim, look at this." Jim, his supervisor, is a credit to Olympia Entertainment, Hockeytown, and humanity. He took a look at the sign, repeated the question about the mystery woman's identity, then tried VERY hard to stifle a chuckle, but failed, and gave me the OK - on condition that I not disrupt anyone's view of the play with Donna's proud smile and thoughtful contributions to her son's big night.
Then it was time for the individual caption boards to pass review. Each got a pleasant little snorted laugh and the thumbs-up from Jim, except the 5th and final sign - the Zetterballs homage. In retrospect, that may owe to my highlighting the words "Zetterberg's, Royal, Swedish, Balls, and Tasty", but I was willing to concede that one for the greater trolling good. It would not be the only casualty on the night.
Chapter II: Patrick the Lesser or What Happened to the Mounted Mrs. Kane?
Before the game even started and long before friends would text me shots of Jimmy-sign on NBCSN, it was all worthwhile. With half a troll-boner (full disclosure: a full one), we charged our way over opposite our seats to the Blackhawks's end for warm-ups. And arrived way too early. So we waited. And waited....
And suddenly there they were. Bedecked in all their nauseating, uh, THEM-ness, Patrick and co took the ice - and Donna took to the glass to greet her son. Her first message concerned the length of his helmet-escaping curls of pettiness and a certain missed appointment that might have tended that ugly mop of his. It took several rotations around the rink for him to notice HIS OWN MOTHER, but he did, and the