English writer Charles Caleb Colton once wrote, "Imitation is the sincerest of flattery." Yes, that might make Colton a poseur. But either way, I've decided to use this column as a personal ode to my favorite columnist, Bill Simmons. After all the entertainment he's given me with his takes on Boston sports teams and random ramblings, I feel obligated to honor the man affectionately known as "The Sports Guy."
With that being said, here is my Simmons-esque running log of my time at the Frozen Four.
11:47 a.m. - The sports editor (Kevin), the photography editor (Christy) and I arrive at the Fleet, just a smidgen over six hours before game time. We were giddy, to say the least. The Fleet was set up like the Hearst Castle for sportswriters. Luxurious media rooms, huge open hallways, and, the best part, a dining room with all the free food you could eat. Greg Gumball couldn't have dreamt up a better place to spend a Thursday. In addition to that, the Fleet was jumping like Jason Giambi watching Traffic. Everybody who is anybody was there. I think at one point I saw Chris Berman ride by on a tricycle. Just absolute insanity.
Noon - All the writers pile out of the dining room to watch the Duluth-Denver game. The other Heights editors and I stay behind to figure out how to steal the "ESPN Dining" sign while no one is around. After coming up with a decent plan, I think of Enemy of the State and Sudden Death and realize the combined effect of both these movies is nothing I want to endure. So we give up.
1:23 p.m. - I leave my seat to tour the Fleet (that rhymes) and begin my search for a Frozen Four T-shirt. For some reason they are hard to find, which to me doesn't make any sense, because honestly, who in the Fleet at that very point in time is not looking for a Frozen Four T-shirt? I'd say three, give or take a couple. Then a woman strolls up next to me wheeling a cart that is holding at least 200 T-shirts. I ask her for one, but she says I have to wait until they go on the shelf. I mutter something under my breath at how ridiculous this search has been. She hears this mutter and starts giving me a mini-speech on how to be a responsible adult. I don't really listen and instead start thinking about how in the world someone hasn't invented pop tarts without the outer crust. They'd sell like hotcakes! I finally find my t-shirt 20 minutes later and go back to my seat.
Spring Break
