Big whoop about Hockey, or any other sport for that matter; that’s all I have to say.
This particular post is another reminder that I am writing a book about an awful sports family whose sons are into icky, yucky Basketball and icky, yucky Hockey; the parents are strict, the parents drive a minivan that they hold onto for a while, the parents send each of their 3 children to a private school (a Catholic school, to be exact); and the daughter also finds herself playing icky, yucky Basketball while in college.
In a nutshell, I say to the couple and each of their 3 children big whoop about sports.
I try to force this couple’s children to ruminate on what it was like to live in the 1970’s and 1980’s, force this couple’s children to eat a plate of grated cheese and a plate of croutons, rub my interest in fans into this family no matter how much they disagree with me and think that I’m crazy, rub my interest in amateur/ham radio and commercial radio and television into this family; badmouth this family’s minivan and rub my interest in Full-Size body on frame American passenger cars, Suburbans, and European cars such as Volkswagens/Audis, Mercedes-Benzs, Renaults, Citroens; and Peugeots; regardless of how little this family cares about vehicles.