a poignant conversation with a child about hockey and body parts
DJ comes running up to greet me as I pull in the driveway after work. He's screaming:
Mom! Mom! Mooooooooooom!
I jump out of the car, thinking the house in on fire or he's finally killed his sister.
What is it? What's the matter??
He's huffing and puffing.
The...Rangers.....they....got rid of....
He stops to catch a breath. There is fury in his eyes.
They got rid of Messier and Leetch!
I kind of understand his panic and frustration.
Where?, I ask.
The disappointment sets in. He sits down on the front steps and puts his head in his hands. He sighs deeply. The old guard of the Rangers is gone.
That's it, he says. I am now officially an Islander fan. I will not, not, not be a Ranger fan anymore!
This had been simmering a long time. His grandparents are Islander fans. He goes to Islander games. He has an Islander jersey. I knew all it would take was one upsetting trade.
Hey, DJ. I sit down next to him. You don't just give up on a team like that. They have to do what's best for them, not for the fans. Now, would you desert the Yankees if they traded Jeter?
Get real, mom. He looks at me like I lost my head. No one deserts the Yankees. They're like...your liver or something. You know, like... a body part?
So the Rangers are disposable?
The Rangers are like that body part, what's it called? That thing you can live without. A pendix?
Right. A pendix. And the Yankees are like...
No, like, a penis. Like, really important.
You have too much testosterone.
Nevermind. Let's go call grandma and tell her you're an Islander fan now.
Maybe they'll put me back in the will, now.