Where Are You Gonna Watch the Game At?

Where was your seat for the game Friday night? In the 300 level? A crowded bar, a less-crowded bar, in your front room, a friend’s front room, on a boat, with a goat? What was the seat like? Chair with a seat cushion and sturdy back? A hard wooden barstool, your favorite recliner, a third hand college couch? Or were you standing?

Wherever you were and upon whatever you parked your kiester, you were watching the game. With a Conference Finals Game 6 on the road, we were all in the same predicament as to where to watch the game. It would have been sweet to be there in L.A. and see the Hawks bring the series back home for Sunday’s Game 7. But the question arises: if you can’t be there for the live action, as the majority of fans can’t be, then what environment do you choose watch the game in? Or is it a choice at all?

Where you watch the game is crucial for so many reasons tangible. What kind of spread is out? I’m talking snacks. Beverage selection? How close am I to the screen? Is there some 6’5 noisy bonehead 10 feet away standing in my view? Could I see myself staying here for three overtimes? And also, those intangible: What’s the vibe? Do they “always” win when you’re at ____ Place or _____ Pub? Is this a crowd I could see myself celebrating with? Are these the people I want to celebrate victory, or Lord forbid, sour in defeat with?

The who, what, where, why, and how are the key players. To me, none is more prominent than the who, which also explains the why. Doesn’t quite matter where you are, or what kind of nachos your eating, or how comfy your seat is, but rather who you’re with and why. You go and watch the game with this buddy or that group of guys from work or even with your grandpa and cousin Mel. There’s more of a magic in postseason games because the Stanley Cup, the most perfect trophy in sports, is so close.  So who your with makes all the difference.

There’s emotions you get with certain crowds. For example I was with six pals watching the game at an apartment on Friday. The greatest sight was the seven-man simultaneous, instantaneous, spontaneous leap off the couch that occurred when the Hawks went ahead for good in the 3^rd. What a euphoric moment. I almost broke a ring finger off giving high fives.

Or sitting next to a pal who knows hockey in and out. And he’s watching intently the whole time. He’s been yelling at the screen for Keith to start taking shots form the point all night. And when he finally does, and scores, you see a coach sitting 3,000 miles away from the ice throw up his arms and yell, “That’s what I’m talking about!”

Or you may be sitting and watching, with a host of other less-informed, but nonetheless loyal fans, who represent the crowd noise. It’s not a bad setting. Energy fills the room. The people are into it. They boo at penalties regardless if they were just, throw things when the Kings score, and know every word to Chelsea Dagger…. well at least the “Duh duh-duh-duh duh-duh-duh duh-duh duh-duh-duh-duh” part.

All these crowds have their advantages and disadvantages. Which is why I, for the big games, know there’s only one seat I want to be sitting in. It’s the best seat in the house. And that’s at the kitchen table, three feet across from my Dad. The experience is second to none.

With a viewing party of two, we watch the game on our time. I have to jump off the grid, as we usually watch a preview. Either an NHL Network Bobby Hull special or maybe Major League. Starting the game 20 minutes late, we can skip out commercials, or use them for bathroom breaks, either or. He’s got a real goal light, complete with horn and remote control, sitting on a shelf above his seat. The spread is different every time, but always hearty. Pretzels and cheese, chips and cheese, salami and cheese…. And you can bet there’s an entire shelf in the fridge, a mere six feet away, full of ice-cold longnecks.

But in the end, it’s not the commercial cutting, the cheese, or even the beer. It’s watching a Hawks game with my Dad. He never played the sport of organized hockey, but could recite tales of watching some of the greatest players play, the Bobby Hull’s, Gordie Howe’s, the Stan Mikita’s. He’s the resonant observer. He always notices and asks to be returned his old Hawks jersey from the 80’s that may or may not even fit him anymore, so it’s pretty much mine. For as much as I learn from usual Hawks color commentator Eddie O telling me to keep that stick on the ice, my Old Man has twenty more tips, not all of them about hockey. All the while we’re moving tangentially from the ugliness of the Kings’ jerseys to Wayne Gretzky to Tim Horton’s donuts to Tim Allen’s new ABC show. It’s one of those intangible things about it. It’s the loud booming celebrations, his favorite cry a Lloyd Pettit’s famous, “A shot, and a goal!!!” And the resulting, “Did we score?” from the other room, usually posed by my other who’s busy reading. It’s the best.

It matters where you watch the game. But don’t forget it matters more with who. I’ve seen three Chicago championships in my life, and all three of them I’ve seen from the same seat. A seat that I’ve had season tickets for, for twenty-four years. You can’t beat it. For me, the best seat in the house, is at home.