It’s been a craptacular week.
The Canucks losing in game 7 of the Stanley Cup Final (the second one I’ve lived in Vancouver to be a part of) has been overshadowed by Vancouver erupting into riots at the sound of the whistle. In fact, you can’t google Canucks Game 7 without reading a mention of the riots. The game has become a nothing, and I think that is a disservice to all the Canucks who played hard for the run to the cup. No one makes it to game seven of the Stanley Cup Final without being a good team. But no one remembers that now.
I am heartened by the actions of Vancouver residents to clean up the city and make it a good place, but I am still sickened when I see images of testosterone-filled, booze-fueled (pardon my French) motherfuckers destroying property, provoking fights, stabbing, and generally being cosmic dickwads. They are almost entirely white, they are almost entirely young, and many of them are wearing fashion brands like Ed Hardy, Tapout, and other “power brands”. I guarantee many of them wear Axe. I wonder how many of them are even Canucks fans. There is lots of speculation of how planned this was, how is was a convenient decoy for anarchists, or, conversely, how wrong that might be. I wonder if it was simply opportunity.
I’m still on the fence if I see the value in the urging of people to stay and film and photograph and use social media to catch those responsible, or whether I believe people should have spent all of their energy getting out of dodge – to hell with risking yourself and to hell with giving the rioters an audience to continue to play it up for. The riots have made me rethink whether professional sports are something I want to be a part of.
Kale has been a handful this week – I think he’s going through another developmental stage (when isn’t he?) and his charm is wearing thin. I’m sick again – DAMMIT – and am finally feeling the financial pinch that comes with being self employed after a long, cold winter. I’m sick of the weather, too. It’s nice today, but I don’t remember the last day that the weather was plain old sun – it’s been sunny breaks, cloudy periods, scattered showers, and generally unpredictable. I’m feeling cabin fever-y, a bit, but tired from the sickness and tired from the market.
I had minor surgery a week ago – surgery I underestimated its non-minorness apparently – and I had a cyst removed from my belly button and four stitches installed. I don’t know why I thought it would be a non-issue, but my tummy still aches and it still hurts to bend over. It’s healing, but so so so slowly.
Ross leaves tomorrow for the Ride to Conquer Cancer and he was inspired to do the Ride by his Mom’s recent successful battle with cancer. Today he tweeted:
And the tears came. I’m not sure where from, but they came. And they felt good and cleansing.
I’m meeting up with him in Seattle for a kid free overnighter on Sunday. We’re booked into a nice B&B and I can’t wait for some recharge time. I think we all need it.