the warehouse is a springboard for the mobilization of consciousness. It is a platform where the conventional and unconventional alike will collide and collude to elicit thought. This revolt is aimed at breaking down the cancer of apathy that permeates the main. In its place we will build a community that is compassionate, accountable and vibrant.

~the stock boy~

www.stockthewarehouse.org

Fear And Loathing in Philadelphia

What it’s Like to Watch a Habs Game in Philly and Why the Flyers Don’t Deserve a Cup

Philadelphia — Somewhere between one of the many repetitive scoreboard tributes to great moments in Flyers thuggery, being told for the 27th time to “get the fuck out of America and go back to Canada” and witnessing a teenage girl wearing a Habs jersey get a full beer thrown at her by a drunken ruddy-faced Flyers “fan”, the thought occurred to me that this city—which is neither loving nor brotherly—does not deserve to bask in a Stanley Cup parade. These so-called “fans”, who are nothing more than orange-clad hooligans looking for any desperate excuse to get drunk, scream obscenities at the top of their lungs and hopefully start a fight, do not deserve a Stanley Cup. This organization, which does nothing to promote the sport of hockey other than stir up the basest most aggressive sentiments within its supporters, does not deserve a Stanley Cup. Let me share with you my experience at the Wachovia Center on Monday for Game 3 of the Flyers-Habs series.

Sidestepping a gob of spit that had been aimed at my feet by one of my courteous hosts, I walked into the Wachovia Center, excited to catch a good hockey game and see my team play in another city for the first time in my life. As I crossed through a large entrance, my field of vision was assaulted by an intimidating sea of orange. At the gate, I noticed a woman handing out orange t-shirts sporting the slogan “Crush The Canadiens” and thundersticks (ugh! They have no business in a hockey arena) with the word “VENGEANCE” inscribed on them. As I approached her, I stretched out my hand to accept the free souvenirs but her eyes quickly narrowed as she spotted the CH on my chest and she turned away from me, refusing to give me a t-shirt. Soon my friends and I found ourselves surrounded by about 50 Flyers fans chanting “Ass-Hole! Ass-Hole”, an experience that was actually quite amusing at first but grew annoying as we endured the same chant over and over again throughout the night. I will admit, it is quite a unique experience to have thousands of people systematically strain their voices to profess their hatred for you. It’s almost empowering in a sense, like being a universally loathed celebrity.

Beyond the booing of the Canadian national anthem—a disgusting practice that Montreal fans are shamefully guilty of as well—it was the violence and the ignorance that got to me throughout the course of the night. Booing the Canadian anthem was stupid in itself for no other reason than the fact that exactly 50% of their starting roster, including their top scorer and starting goaltender, is Canadian. Rather than celebrate their team’s successes amongst themselves, the Flyers fans made sure to punctuate every goal by hurling fistfuls of garbage at the small group of Habs supporters assembled in our section. It was clear minutes into the game that they took greater pleasure and spent more energy cultivating a good beer buzz and deriding opposing fans than actually paying attention to what was occurring on the ice. A deafening chorus of boos and accusations of corrupt refereeing erupted when notorious thug Steve Downie got his third penalty of the first period for tripping Carey Price behind the net or Derian Hatcher was served a game misconduct for ruthlessly boarding Francis Bouillon in the third. Ignore the fact that this ignorant assembly of so-called fans constantly cheered for stoppages in play they assumed were penalties against Montreal, protested any penalty against their team—even if it was dealt to a player who just welded an unsuspecting opponent’s face into the boards—and failed to notice or understand the Canadiens too many men on the ice infraction late in the third period. Rather than educate its fans or promote a sense of appreciation for quality hockey, the Flyers organization instead relentlessly promotes violence at every opportunity, glorifying moments like Ron Hextall slashes or Bobby Clarke punching a Russian player in the face. These images, which are constantly displayed on the scoreboard during stoppages in play, never fail to raise a loud chorus of cheers from Philly’s bloodthirsty fans. Just picture this: there’s two minutes remaining in a game that your team miraculously leads by a goal despite being outshot 34-14. The other team is peppering your goalie with pucks from all angles. Rather than dig your nails into your thighs and thank the hockey gods for this undeserved lead, you opt to stand up with a few hundred fellow morons and turn away from the game in order to face a handful of the opposing team’s fans in order to participate in a 30-second “Ass-Hole” chant. Finally, when your team manages to squeak out an undeserved win, rather than admit your luck to the few actual diehard fans who drove over 8 hours to watch this game in your pathetic city, or even continue to tease them good-naturedly, you opt to threaten to kill them, actually elbow them as they walk past you quietly or—why the hell not—sucker punch them on the side of the head as you run past and tell them to go back to their country. No fool guilty of such stupidity deserves to be described as a fan of any hockey team, let alone celebrate a Stanley Cup victory. No organization that hasn’t won a championship in three decades yet proudly clings to and continuously fosters the development of a thuggish legacy deserves to sip from Lord Stanley’s Cup.

And the argument may be made that Montreal is no more deserving of a Stanley Cup following the ugly rioting and acts of vandalism that broke out following our Game 7 victory over Boston last series. As loathsome as those acts were though, they represented the irresponsible actions of a fringe minority, louts who clearly possess no respect for the Canadiens organization or our city. The fact is, for most of us, our earliest souvenirs are fuzzy memories of Saturday night hockey games broadcast into our family living rooms. For most of us, the game was how we related to our dads. Many of us count among our most precious memories the joys of learning to skate. And as we were taught to play the game, we daydreamed of how it should be played – how it deserved to be played. Invariably, those dreams ended up with us hoisting an imaginary Stanley Cup above our six-year-old shoulders and shouting for joy from sheer delight at the beauty of the dream. And when we had these dreams, they weren’t dreams of high-sticks, raised elbows, bended knees, ice littered with gloves, bloody faces, or any of the violent images that flashed from the Wachovia Center scoreboard to the great delight of what can only be accurately described as a mob – a mob that loudly and lustily booed the national anthem to which half their own team pledges allegiance. We had different dreams. We dreamed of playing like Kovalev.

Go Habs Go! Let’s out these classless buffoons in seven so their “fans” can get back to watching the Phillies, a team that plays a sport they actually understand—I think.

Here’s a selection of fairly interesting pictures that I found featured on a slideshare.net slideshow. Many of the images either anthropomorphize animals or imbue their human subjects with animal traits (what’s the opposite of anthropomorphism?). And some are just downright odd. All in all, it’s a pretty entertaining viewing.

ADAM PANETTA, IN ONE GRAPH

I always find attempting to summarize myself into a brief coherent paragraph quite awkward, but here goes. I graduated a few years ago from Concordia’s Liberal Arts College and founded a juggernautish communications/writing service company called VOX WRITING SERVICES and am currently enrolled in Concordia’s Graduate Communications Program. That pretty much sums up my professional/academic experience.

As for my interests and hobbies, they include reading, writing, cooking, purchasing musical instruments I never end up learning how to play and an emotionally crippling devotion to the Montreal Canadiens. Also, I’ve developed an interest in fishing over recent years, but it’s plagued by contradictory impulses that include wanting to catch the fish and spending hours trying to get one to bite and eventually feeling a pang of guilt when I do finally catch one. Oh, and I also like dogs very much.

Here’s a picture of me, Alexandra and my two brothers (David and Alex) in Lipari last summer. We staged it to look like we were having some sort of spirited conversation. It may not be a great picture, but it evokes terrific memories for me and it showcases me with some of the people I love most in this world, so I guess that’s why I’m so partial to it.

Here is a link to a couple of fantastic Jeff Buckley songs (both of them covers) that were recorded at Cafe Sin-e the summer before he recorded Grace, his first and only completed album. Just felt like sharing’em. Enjoy

Cheers,

Adam