Well, the Bruins won some silly silver trophy which they carried onto the ice in Vancouver wearing white gloves, for chrissakes. Along these lines, here is my column for this week:
Normally I’d just ignore all of this, much the same way I ignore the mass hysteria surround any bout of playoff fever in Boston — especially hockey, given how few people actually cared before the Bruins made the playoffs.
In fact, one of the greatest things about being a gay man used to be that you could pretty much go into most gay events and bars and nobody would look twice at you if someone mentioned playoffs and you said seriously, “What playoffs?”
Not anymore. Now we’re expected to be just as emotionally drugged and mesmerized as the rest of the population, even as the economy falls to pieces and 2.5 pointless wars continue to kill too many soldiers and civilians and eat billions of dollars that could be otherwise spent fixing a host of other ills.
Of course, they were burning and looting in Vancouver, which made Boston fans all smug even though we’ve had people actually killed twice in sports-related riots in this city since I’ve lived here, so nobody in Boston ought act too superior.
Yet somehow I’m supposed to worship the people who play these games as some sort of superhuman hero figures.
