I’m not going to chastise 28-year-old Kevin O’Connell for tackling Pucky the Whale at a recent hockey game based on a bet with a friend. (Hopefully, the bet was worth enough to pay the legal fees.) Frankly, if he were better looking I’d think about marrying him based on this action which says to me, “Hey, stick with me and every day will be a barrel of laughs and problem-drinking.” No, I’m going to chastise the folks at the XL Center and the Connecticut Whale for not seeing a great marketing opportunity when it appears.
I won’t lie, I love the violence of hockey. Frankly, I’m sick of family entertainment. When I go to a hockey game I want fist fights, on the ice and in the stands. I want to throw my beer at a guy two rows in front of me and have everyone laugh. And if I was sitting at a game, waiting for the next fight to start, and some drunk guy tackled the stupid, annoying mascot I would immediately buy season tickets (not help the cops find the culprit as the pansies at the XL Center did that night). If I were running that show, I’d probably hire O’Connell to drunkenly wrestle Pucky between periods instead of having those little pee-wee teams come out and skate aimlessly on the ice.