Before the start of the 2002-2003 season, I thought that I would put together a review of some of the MSG-area bars so that you could all get an idea of what’s available before you headed out for a game. Unfortunately, life got in the way, and I just never had the time to put it together.
Well, here’s my first crack at it. Since it’s been a long time coming, I’m worried that you’ll be a bit disappointed – that it won’t live up to what you’re expecting after such an extended delay. To that end, consider this a work-in-progress. I’m going to start with a few of the bars that I’ve been to several times. As I add more establishments to my arsenal, I’ll be sure to update and give you the scoop.
Let’s get this pub crawl started, shall we?
BLARNEY ROCK PUB
137 West 33rd Street
(212) 947-0825
Mass Transit: Near Penn Station 1,2,3,9,A,C,E, NJT, LIRR; Herald Sq. B,D,F,Q,N,R
The Blarney Rock really has the feel of what, in a few conversations that we’ve had, Rocha refers to as an “old man” bar. To me, though, it falls into a very distinct subcategory – “Irish/Cop Bar.” Places like the Blarney Rock are really my favorite places to drink. At the Blarney Rock, you’ll find tons of New York sports and law enforcement memorabilia on the walls – including the requisite pennants stained by years of cigar and cigarette smoke. They’ve got a pretty good selection of beers on tap, as well as the usual suspects in bottles. Furthermore, if you're into the harder stuff, they seem to be pretty well stocked in the whisky department. The bartenders and wait staff (yes, they serve food - but god luck getting a table on a game night) are very friendly, and the bartenders are pretty good about keeping your glass full even when the bar is packed.
Be careful not to confuse the Blarney Rock with the Blarney Stone on West 32nd Street. The fact that two similarly-named drinking establishments are so close to one another has torpedoed many attempts by friends to meet up for pre-game drinking - particularly if you've already been pre-gaming. I’ll cover the Blarney Stone in more depth in the future, but the short description would be very similar to the ‘Rock.
The Blarney Rock is a great place to go after a game, as they have often had free bar food (wings, etc.) after 10pm on game nights. It can get a bit loud and crowded in there, but the atmosphere is really relaxed – it’s not a place where you’re going to see the corporate stiffs who go to games to talk on their cell phones all night. If you are looking for something other than a straight-up blue collar bar, keep walking – you’re in Midtown; there are plenty of bars for the suits.
A word of warning – I’ve heard from some folks that the bathroom can be a bit scary (never used it there myself), but I guess that depends upon what you consider to be a scary bathroom; after using the bathroom at 30th Street Station in Philly, I’ve never feared another. Worse comes to worse, there’s a Sbarro’s Pizza a block away – and you know people aren’t going there for the food. For the full experience, be sure to engage in conversation with the Black Israelites if they're making an appearance. Be sure to ask about the "evil wizard" who created white people. Who says street theater is dead?
Conclusion
For me personally, a Rangers game isn’t complete without a stop at the Blarney Rock. It’s a great place to meet beforehand, or to knock back a few beers and bitch about the latest on-ice disaster while I wait to make a desperate sprint to Grand Central Terminal to catch the 11:17. Typically, the Blarney Rock has been my Ranger Game Bar of Choice for several seasons running.
Next Installment: The Harp Pub and Restaurant.
Shopping at Costco.
McDonald’s Super Value Meals.
The Louisiana Purchase.
What do the three have in common? Other than the fact that all three tend to be transactions involving dealings with people whose grasp of the English language may be considered somewhat tenuous, we’re talking about buying in bulk. Generally speaking, it’s cheaper per unit to purchase goods or services in quantity – whether light bulbs, dog food, or real estate.
Except, of course, when you’re shopping at Madison Square Garden.
When I went to the Rangers-Thrashers game on March 31, 2003, I took a friend’s advice and I purchased what I will henceforth refer to as the ‘big beer.’ I’ll admit, I was a bit wary of the massive vat of suds that I was about to consume – but Jim made such an eloquent argument in its favor that I couldn’t refuse.
Basically, the ‘big beer’ is a 64oz mug-style pitcher. You might’ve seen these vessels in 7-11s, where I suppose they’re marketed toward long-haul truckers or those who have a blatant disregard for the health of their bladders. Below, I’ve taken a picture of my ‘big beer’ pitcher next to my Mark Messier bobblehead so that you can get an idea of the sheer size of this thing.
Looks, however, can be deceiving. This is, after all, a 64oz container; in actuality, the pitcher contains three beers (along with the $25 purchase price you also receive two of the clear plastic mugs that you get when purchasing premium beers at MSG). The selling points for the ‘big beer’ that hooked me were as follows:
1. You don’t have to get up and get on line again. This alone is a major selling point in my opinion. Who wants to stand in the beer line? Considering that I’d had a few pre-game drinks, I knew that ‘big beer’ would more than get me through the game.
2. You get your choice of the premium beers. Like Bass Ale? Buy a pitcher. Spaten more your speed? Well, you’re in luck – have your own personal Oktoberfest. Cravin’ a wee nip o’ McSorley’s Black and Tan? We’ve got your drink, me boy-o!
3. The pitcher keeps the beer remarkably cold. This thing, as cheesy as it may look, does a terrific job at keeping your beverage nice and frosty. By the end of the first period, I was expecting luke-warm beer. However, it was just as cold as it had been when first poured.
One of the downsides of the ‘big beer’ is one of perception – if, in fact, you actually care about that type of thing. The looks that you will get if you purchase the ‘big beer’ range from the amused (“Dude, look at the guy with the monster brew! You ROCK bro!”) to the disdainful (“My word, look at this alcoholic. Tsk – shameful, really.”). Fact is, this beer is deceptively large; it’s not really as big as it would appear.
How others will see you if you buy the big beer
Furthermore, remember the old adage about how we only rent beer? After the withering assault that the ‘big beer’ waged against my bladder, the 'seal' broke faster than the ranks of the Republican Guard. Thank God Metro-North has those nauseating little bathrooms on their trains!
Also, the question that remained at the end of the night was, “What the Hell am I going to do with this thing?” Its size makes storage somewhat impractical and, when I’m at home, I have no need for such a large mug – the fridge is conveniently located and well-stocked. I suppose I could drill a few holes in the bottom and use it as a planter, but I think that it will just gather dust on a shelf somewhere with the rest of the game souvenirs that I’ve accumulated – perhaps between the Ranger Dr. Seuss hat that came with my cotton candy, or the Valentine’s Day stuffed “heart” that they gave us a few years ago (it looked much more like a kidney than a heart).
In sum, it was a good purchase - if only for the fact that I didn't have to wait in the beer line again between periods. Now if only I could get a pony keg past security...
-Chris
PS: While we're on the subject of beer, the long-awaited At The Garden Bar Review is on its way! Really! I couldn't devote the time this past season to preparing the review the way that it deserves to be done, but it looks like I've got some time over the next few weeks to dust off my notes and get cracking. It might not get you into law school, but at least you'll know which bars to pass!
"Prayer is the last refuge of a scoundrel."
-Lisa Simpson
I'm not a very religious guy. When I was a kid, I wasn't even a "C & E" Catholic. I tried for a while in high school - I joined CYO, but honestly that was more a ruse to meet girls from the area all-girl Catholic high schools (mission accomplished, by the way). Church just never did it for me. I guess I'm much closer to Homer than I am to Flanders.
"Hidilly-ho, Neglect-erinos!"
The point is, my words probably don't carry much weight with the Almighty, however you may choose to perceive God. But, as Blaise Pascal once posited in his famous Wager, if you believe then you at least have a shot at Heaven - or at the very least, having your prayers answered.
So, in the spirit of having tried everything else, and inspired by a thread on the message board, I offer the following:
The Ranger Fan's Prayer
Or
Cry of The Hopeless
Glen Sather, who art our GM,
Hollowed be thy name!
When Playoffs come,
our season's done,
as hopefully will be your tenure!
Give us this day our Daily Loss,
as well as some long passes,
as we expect those will be picked off against us.
Lead us not into Penn Station,
For it's full of fans of the dEvils.
For thine is this abortion,
though you've lived on past glory
Forever and Ever.
Amen
Have a great New Year everybody!
You know what? I'm pissed at this team. So much talent. So little drive. So, in an effort to blow off some steam, I took my "Flush the Tragic Season" headline to its logical conclusion and penned a little ditty about our New York Rangers to the tune of "Puff, the Magic Dragon." Hope you like it.
Flush This Tragic Season*
Flush this tragic season, at MSG
And banish it to a remote spot, of my beer-soaked mem-o-ree!
Little Glennie Sather loved that Stanley Cup
And brought in Trots and Messier to help him hoist one up, oh
Flush this tragic season, at MSG
And banish it to the darkest depths, of my beer-soaked mem-o-ree!
Flush this tragic season, at MSG
And banish it to the darkest depths, of my beer-soaked mem-o-ree!
We thought that we’d be better, with Kaspar and Holik
But soon the New York Ranger “ship” sprang several mighty leaks!
The whole bluline corps is injured, our goalie broke his head
The season’s only halfway through, but our playoff hopes are dead! Oh,
CHORUS
Just what is Trottier’s system, would you call it “Run and Gun?”
I think I’ve got a better name – let’s call it “None and Done!”
Sure there have been bright spots, like Mike Dunham and Petro,
But chances are you missed those games, ‘cuz they were on Metro!
Soon it will be April, the playoffs will begin
We’ll get to watch the other teams play on ESPN
I’ve had it with these Rangers, intensity they lack
Perhaps next year I’ll stay in state, and follow the Wolf Pack!
CHORUS
*with no apologies to Peter, Paul and Mary. Get a haricut, hippies!
In my last installment, I told you that I was going to write about the game that I went to in Chicago. Well, that's going to have to wait, because something incredible happened at the Rangers-Sharks game on Monday night. Did I win an on-ice contest? Did I win the 50-50 raffle? Was I on GardenVision? No. This is much bigger. I think that I actually found...
THE STUPIDEST PEOPLE IN ATTENDANCE.
And it wasn't a long trip - they were right behind me! I know that in the past I've talked about ignorance, but Monday night was special. I learned many things about the Sharks in particular, and NHL hockey in general, listening to the three geniuses behind me. Did you know that:
* "San Jose's best guy is Eric Damphousse;"
or that
*"Todd Marchant, the dirtiest defenseman in the league, plays for the Sharks."?
Wow. I was in awe of their knowledge already, but then I heard the question that became the title of this article. I was absolutely stunned. I think that the kid who said this meant it in the context of "where did they play their last game," but I'm not so sure...
You're wondering who the idiots are who continue to boo Nedved? That was them! But the best part was when the game ended and they began to beat the crap out of each other like five-year-olds! These guys should've been wearing hockey helmets, for purposes other than hockey...
A Vision of The Future?
Next time you're watching TV, keep an eye out for a Land Rover commercial featuring a man and his son shopping for a Christmas tree. Look at the tree salesman...
That's Slats this time next year if the Rangers miss the playoffs again.
A Real Seussance
Dedicated to the guy who sat two rows in front of me Monday night.
Garden Concessions thought it would be handy
To include stovepipe hats with their great cotton candy.
At ten bucks a pop, they bring in the cash,
But I think their decision was perhaps a bit rash.
When my view is obstructed by a prop from The Lorax,
It pisses me off - makes me want to kick thorax!
The hats are fun - for kiddies, they're fine.
But not for a person who stands at 5-9!
Adult with Seuss hat, just what are you thinkin'?
You look like an ass, not Abraham Lincoln!
In response to a volley of verbal artillery,
You finally removed your tri-colored millinery.
My suggestion to you, for Ranger games hence:
A little less cotton candy; a little more common sense.
Happy holidays everyone!
-Chris
“Do you want to see tonight’s game in the company box?”
This was the question put to me by my wife late last Friday afternoon. Well, I was pretty tired and was looking forward to crashing out on the couch and watching the game from the comfort of home, but then I realized: I had a job to do. Too long had I neglected to write an update for At The Garden. The truth is, I felt like I had run out of things to talk about.
But this was the chance to sit among the elite – captains of industry and social gadflies – and catch a game to boot! Of course, I said yes. I took my finest suit from the closet and, with my wife, headed to Olde Manhattan Towne for a night of hockey and light conversation.
Your correspondent, resplendent in his finery.
THE MYTH
We all have our preconceptions of what viewing a game from a luxury box must be like. Trying to sleep on the train ride down, I imagined what the night held in store…
When one gets to the Garden, their own personal valet accompanies them to the suite. There, after a hot shower to remove the grime of the peons that were encountered along the journey, a toga and olive laurel are provided for each guest.
The service is a cut above in the suites.
The teams take the ice, and salute the box. Minutes into the game, Dvorak makes a boneheaded play. Trots looks up at Sather. Sather looks over toward me. I give him a thumbs-down motion, and Devo is pulled from the ice and thrown to the Panthers - or possibly the Flames. It matters not. DANCE PUPPETS! DANCE!!!
“Next stop – Grand Central Station!”
I awaken from my dream. We leave the train and head to MSG, excited about what lies ahead.
THE REALITY
We went to the Garden Club entrance, where we were wanded by security and directed toward a long escalator ahead of us. If you’ve ever gone to the Play By Play, you know what I’m talking about. At the top of the escalator, we are greeted by Victorian-era carolers (guess the top hat was a good idea, after all) performing for a private party. We boarded an elevator and headed for the Suites.
Maya and I were the first to arrive in our suite, so we got to check it out before others got there. Let me tell you – it WAS sweet! A bar stocked with top-shelf liquor, a refrigerator full of beer, and a waitress who checked in on us periodically to make sure that we were satisfied. Also – and this is key – each suite has its own bathroom. No running to the public facilities between periods for us; leave that to the common crowd below!
Unfortunately, there wasn’t a food spread provided that night. If we wanted food, we had to order it ourselves. I was famished, so we checked out the menu. Here’s the problem: because you’re in the suites, the menu is set with portions and prices meant to serve twelve people. We decide to get the order of chips, salsa and guacamole – a veritable bargain at $30.
The game starts, and I’m on my second G&T when the food arrives. Hmm. Perhaps this platter serves twelve if Christ was our waiter, but to me it looked like it would serve four at best. Thirty bucks for a bag of Tostitos and a bowl of guac...
Watching from the suite is great. There’s nobody to stand up in front of you, the cotton candy guy doesn’t obstruct your view at key moments, and nobody wears those stupid “puckhead” hats. But I have to tell you – it felt kind of sterile. We were with several other people, and I got the feeling that Maya and I were the only real hockey fans there. On the way home that night, she told me that someone said something to the effect of “I’m not into hockey – I just came for the free drinks.” To me, that’s a wasted ticket. Most real fans never get the opportunity to sit in the luxury suites, and it was a nice experience. Let me tell you – Tanqueray has a surprising power to assuage the pain of a loss. Although, at the time we had NO IDEA how seriously the injury to Bure would resonate through the papers the following day.
Bottom line – It’s a nice experience, but it doesn’t really feel like you’re at a game. I think that I’d rather sit with the real fans than in isolation. Save your money and get a kick-ass home theater system with a large HDTV.
Next time – ATG went on the road back in November and caught a game at the United Center in Chicago. I’ll draw some comparisons between the Chicago experience and your “typical” garden night.
See you Monday, when I rejoin the most extraordinary "common crowd" I know for the San Jose game.
-Chris
Special Thanks to Tim Hotaling, who made this article possible when he passed on the tickets. Hope your daughter’s feeling better!
In the past, I’ve mentioned how important the crowd around you is to your perception and/or enjoyment of a game. I can think of few times when I experienced as much contrast in atmosphere as I did between the home opener and last night’s game against Toronto.
On Friday night, we had a lousy result on the ice. However, my wife and I had a great time in the stands – in part because we had such cool people sitting around us. If anyone who sat in Section 317, rows A-C on Friday night happens to read this, you guys rock! You were fun, funny, and actually knew something about what was going on.
Last night, though… it was like sitting in a library. When exciting things happen, I yell. I leave most game hoarse. If I got one more dirty look from the woman in front of us – hey lady, if you can’t handle the yelling, you don’t belong at a hockey game. Guess that’s what I get for moving closer to the ice. Those of you who have been visiting the site for awhile know how I feel about the expensive crowd.
For the most part, the people around us just didn’t get into the game enough. I say for the most part, because there were a couple of notable exceptions. In particular, there was a guy sitting behind my wife that sounded like Burgess Meredith as Mickey. He actually called Leetch a bum, but I was waiting for him to tell Messier that he liked him better when he was carrying buckets of spit.
And of course, last night I met Mike C. from the message boards. It’s always nice to put a name to a face. We were talking about how, from posting so often, we both feel like we know the people from the boards, even though most of us have never met. Mike asked me how I met Bird and got started on the site – but I’ll save that epic tale for another time.
One-Timers
I suppose it was only a matter of time.
Following the example of teams such as the Carolina Hurricanes and New York Islanders, the New York Rangers have put together a team of young ladies in tight clothing to assist in the administration of fan contests. I don’t really know how to feel about this. My “wheat” side knows that this is nothing but a cheap marketing ploy, but my “sweet” side doesn’t mind the distraction if the game is going poorly.
I think that they should be called the “Trottskyettes,” in honor of our new coach. Of course, once the idea of cheerleaders at NHL games becomes passé, expect this experiment to receive the proverbial icepick to the head.
To those worried about the safety netting, and its effect on your ability to see the game: I sat directly behind the Rangers goal last night in Section 232. The nets were right in front of us. For me personally, the nets were a non-issue. Of course, for those of us with less-than-perfect eyesight, I can see where there may be some problems. About the only thing that I couldn’t do that I could in the past was read a few of the names of off the backs of the visiting jerseys when the action was up the other end. But then that wasn't always easy anyway.
Public Denouncement System
I’m not saying that Bird should sit by the phone or anything, but so far the new PA guy is like the fish sticks at Arnold’s – not so good, Al. I hope for his sake that he’s just shaking off some rust - which is probably the case. I know that I’d be nervous as hell if it was me in the booth. I’m going to the game on November 5 vs. the Oilers. He’s got several home games between now and then to get it together. We’ll see if he’s up to speed by then.
But just in case, rest your voice Bird.
-Chris
In this first installment of At The Garden for the 2002-2003 Ranger season, I want to get back to basics and try to give those readers who were unable to attend the home opener a feel for the atmosphere inside MSG. But first, I have to digress for a moment. Please, bear with me.
In the fall of 1991, when I was a senior in high school, I watched a film in physics class called “Frames of Reference.” This 1960 NSF-funded film is regarded by some to be a classic teaching tool. In the film, two scientists in lab coats demonstrate how our perceptions are affected by the window through which we view an event. For example, if you’ve ever seen the movie “Top Secret,” there’s a scene near the beginning where Nick’s train begins to pull away from the station. Or, at least, it appears to – as the camera pulls away, we find out that the station is pulling away from the stationary train.
What does this have to do with the season opener?
The trouble that I’m having here is finding an appropriate frame of reference. So, I’ll try to give you the home-opener from a few different perspectives.
Walking To The Seats - A New Hope
On October 11, 2002, I returned to the Garden for the first time since last season’s disastrous loss to Toronto in the home finale. By that point, the sprits of the Garden faithful had been, for all intents and purposes, crushed. But in the lobby of MSG, that horrible night felt like it was almost an eternity ago. There was a light, excited feel to the crowd. Look at the team since then! We’ve added Holik and Kaspar! We’ve got a new coaching staff that will institute an actual system! We kicked ass in Carolina Wednesday night!
Sitting Down – Flashbacks To A Bad Trip
Now, I can’t really explain it, but most of that optimism stayed outside. I suppose that it was like returning to the scene of a violent crime or horrible accident. Suddenly, all of the old feelings came flooding back – the disappointment, the resent, the resignation. During the player introductions and the anthems, the crowd seemed a bit quieter than one would expect for a home-opener. Where was the excitement and optimism from just minutes earlier? We must’ve traded it in for our Nextel Opening Night Caps.
Period 2 And On – Bleak Despair
If the first period gave us reason to hope, then the second took it all away. When the Habs scored their first goal, a guy in a seat near me said “Here we go again!” At that point, the malaise that we’ve all felt for the past five seasons returned with full force. I think that the collective psyche of the Garden crowd is so damaged at this point that any minor setback has become enough to take the crowd out of the game. This is a bad thing, folks. Of course, the guys MUST get it done on the ice. But the home crowd HAS to become a factor again. Do not underestimate the boost that the home crowd’s silence gives to a visiting team.
Well, I’ve rambled a bit here, so I think that I’ll sign off for now. I’m going to the game tomorrow night against Toronto. Hopefully, I’ll have better news to report.
BRUSHING UP FOR THE BAR REVIEW
Before I go, I just wanted to let you know that research has begun for the At The Garden MSG-Area Bar Review! We hit three of the local establishments Friday night – The Blarney Rock, Mustang Harry’s, and O’Reilly’s Pub. There’ll be more to come. If you have a favorite bar within a couple of blocks of MSG, and you’d like to have it included in the bar review, use the comments section to let me know!
-Chris
"It is easier for a camel to go through a needle's eye, than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God." (Luke 18:25)
"It's probably also easier than winning the Mercedes-Benz Shooting Stars contest at MSG." (Chris 12:13pm)
The off-season is a good time to discuss those aspects of the Garden experience that even many of us who attend games may never see. After the buzzer, while many of us are buying new beers (or returning used beers), there's activity on the ice. Today, I'll talk a bit about some of the contests that go on during the intermissions.
Most of these contests involve people who (ideally) have never touched a hockey stick shooting the puck from some point on the ice into a target. Sounds simple enough, but those of us that have ever been to a carnival or the boardwalk know that these contests are never as simple as they seem. Let's start with a standard contest, that I'm betting even fans of other franchises will recognize.
The 'Shooter Tutor': Ben Kenobi Had It All Wrong
In the original Star Wars, when Luke found a group of slaughtered Jawas he was quick to believe that the used-droid salesmen had run afoul of some Sandpeople. But Ben set him straight: "Look at the accuracy of these shots - only Imperial Stormtroopers are that precise." If Kenobi is to be believed (I'll come back to this), then stormtroopers would have no problem with what I'll refer to as the 'Shooter Tutor' contest.
This contest involves contestants attempting to fire a puck through one of three small openings along the bottom of a board secured across the goalmouth - one hole near each post, and one hole located dead center. The holes are slightly wider than the puck, so it takes a reasonably accurate shot to score.
By the time Luke and company reached the Death Star, the vaunted stormtrooper accuracy had gone completely down the toilet, where it remained for the rest of the trilogy - they couldn't hit the broad side of a Bantha from arm's length away. These are the folks that we usually see competing in this contest. Generally, the contestants fall into one of two categories. First, there's 'Joe Hockey.' This guy impresses the crowd with his stick-handling skills before ripping a shot 8-feet wide of the net. More often than not, you'll see a group of these guys if you watch this contest. Occasionally, you'll see a 'Smart Susie,' who realizes that it is control, not power, that is important in this contest - she pushes the puck, rather than playing Al MacInnis. Susie wins almost every time she takes the ice. Like Luke taking out the Death Star, she lets go and trusts her feelings - to the acclaim of the Garden faithful, who ride guys like Joe Hockey mercilessly when they botch their chance.
The 'Shooting Star' Contest - Hope You Weren't Drinking Today
Though the 'Shooter Tutor' contest can be difficult, the Mercedes-Benz 'Shooting Star' contest is downright evil. The overall winner at the end of the Rangers' season takes home one of those Mercedes SUV's that none of their owners seem to know how to drive. Hmm... perhaps ALL people who want to buy one of these 'Luxury trucks' should have to qualify like this... but I digress.
We all know what the Mercedes symbol looks like - think a pie cut into equal thirds (or a peace sign that got kicked in the willie). The Garden staff turns down the house lights, and projects a large Mercedes symbol onto the ice in the neutral zone opposite of the contestants' position at the near blueline. The task of the contestants is to shoot a puck into one of the divisions within the circle of light. Let me tell you, this is hands down the most difficult contest at MSG - unless you consider making the 10:17 New Haven Line train after a game a contest (which I personally do). This involves not only the ability to take a straight shot, but requires the right amount of touch. It's kind of like shuffleboard, except you're not trying to knock the other guy's puck out of the circle. Oh, did I mention that you're doing this in front of a crowd of approximately 18,198 people who want to see you choke? No pressure, though...
You can always tell if a contestant's been drinking (which is pretty common), because s/he will fire the puck way too hard. The stumbling, slurred speech, and vomit-caked shoes are usually a giveaway too.
And Many More!
There are other contests, but those two are the most common. Perhaps in another installment I'll address some of the more ridiculous contests, but I'll save that for another day.
It's Not Zagat's, But It'll Do In A Pinch...
Before the start of the new season, I'm going to do my best to put together a compendium of pre-game and/or post-game watering holes for you, the thirsty Ranger fan. It's gonna be rough (I can feel my liver cringing already), but with the help of a couple of friends (I'm looking at you, Jim) I think I'll be able to provide you with a good lay of the land around MSG. Early candidates include the Blarney Rock and Mustang Sally's, but if you've got a favorite in mind, use the link below to e-mail me and I'll do my best to check it out!
Sláinte,
So like Fox Mulder, I disappeared for awhile. But like Luke Skywalker - or perhaps Frosty the Snowman - I've returned. I won't bore you with the details of my absence, but let me just say that it's nice to be back among the living once again - writing about something other than criminal justice issues. I love what I do, but I could sure use a break from what my wife refers to as my "nerd books."
I'm going to have to start slow, and get back into the swing of things, so I'll jump back in with a topic that I've been kicking around in the back of my head for some time now, but wasn't quite long enough for a full feature: Madison Square Garden's Minor Characters.
Who Are The People In Your Neighborhood?
Every venue has its recognizable characters. If you go to Yankee Stadium, perhaps you'll see Freddy - an elderly gent who carries signs and bangs on a frying pan with a spoon. Go to a Jets game, and you'll see the guy with the fireman's helmet. Pass by the Quik Chek in my childhood home town, you'll see dirtbags hanging out in the parking lot. Ahh, memories...
Anyway, Madison Square Garden has no shortage of characters of its own - some immediately recognizable (e.g., John Amirante, Dancing Larry), some a little bit more obscure. It's two of the latter that I'd like to tell you about today. As is the case on The Simpsons, the supporting cast really makes the show at MSG. Here's a dynamic duo that you won't see on the Garden Tour...
The Pied Piper of Midtown: One of my favorite Garden characters is a fellow who usually appears after games. I don't know if he's homeless, but I have seen him in the bowels of Penn Station on several occasions. The one constant is his flute - and man, this guy can play. After games, he'll set up shop out beyond Cosby's, and he'll jam out on his flute. Usually, he'll play 'Ode to Denis Potvin' - you all know the tune. Anyway, he's always a hit with the more intoxicated fans, and I imagine that he does pretty well for himself on game nights.
"Program" Man: As you approach the Garden, you may hear a sound like what I imagine a goat being shorn with a rusted door hinge must sound like. That would be "Program" Man. Usually, the Garden staff is wise enough to station him outside the box office, as his voice is capable of shattering all of those glass doors. There he stands at his kiosk, peddling "Programs! Yeah-books! Media Guides!" Approach with caution if you value your hearing! If possible, I'll try to record a clip of him hawking his wares next season - though you should really experience him in person if possible; I'm sure a recording won't adequately capture the awesome power of "Program" Man's voice.
If I was to make a movie about a night at a Rangers game, I would tap Martin Landau to play "Program" Man as he is fairly close in appearance, and Laurence Fishburne would play the Piper - not for looks; I'd just want Morpheus in my movie. Of course, my movie would substitute Mr. T for Van Damme, and the villain would be the ghost of Norman Fell. Sudden Death my ass...
So there you have it - now if you're going to a game for the first time, you'll feel like you know someone at the Garden!
Next time - Intermission Games and Other Herculean Trials!
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"Curious Fan" wanted to know, among other things, what I'm like at a game. I guess I'm like most other people - how I act depends on the game.
If I'm at a game against either a traditional rival or a league power, then I'll scream myself hoarse.
If I'm at the NHL equivalent of a field trip to Delaware - such as the time that I saw the Rangers play the Minnesota Wild - I'll tend to be a bit more quiet.
Supposedly, teams feed off of crowd energy. However, the team has to energize the crowd. This could be the greatest "catch-22" since that commercial in which the mountaintop guru asked "How can one get a job without experience, when one can't get experience without a job?" - or since Heller wrote "Catch-22," I guess.
No matter what, I always try to keep an ear on the people around me; you can really pick up some 'pearls of wisdom' at MSG - especially after the beer's been flowing. And for the past few seasons, I think that most will agree that the action in the seats has been at least as entertaining as the action on the ice.
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