There's nothing like being there

Why do people enjoy going to watch professional hockey (or any sport for that matter) games live?  I found myself wondering that at one point while I was at tonight's (or yesterday's; it depends on how you measure time) Canucks game.  I am a diehard Canucks fan, but I find it difficult to provide a logical explanation for shelling out money to attend the game.  (Okay, the tickets were a Christmas gift, so technically I myself did no "shelling out", but this is about the principle.)

The first answer I came up with was So that you can experience the game.  This seemed logical to me for all of a minute, at which point I remembered that literally thousands of people are watching the exact same game on their televisions.  They too are experiencing the game, and upon further inspection, watching from home seems almost more preferable.

If you'll allow me a momentary lapse in humility, I have perfected the art of watching Canucks games on TV.  PVR has been integral in said perfection.  If I have to work on game night, no worries, I just set the machine with a half-hour carry-over and I'm good to go.  Of course, I must then ensure that no one spoils the score for me, and so begins a feat that is either incredibly impressive, or painfully pathetic; your interest in organized sports directly correlates with whether you find this to be the former or the latter: I avoid any interaction that may result in the score being revealed.  My coworkers know this and comply; it's the customers that are the (potential) problem.  This was far more difficult during last season's playoffs, but I found a way: I simply greeted people who were wearing hockey-related clothing with a friendly "Hi, if you know anything about the hockey game, please don't give anything away, as I'm recording it.  How can I help you?"  For the most part, this worked.  Some people though, tried to ambush me by bringing up hockey when they were wearing clothing that offered me no hint that they might want to discuss sports.  My evasive strategy in these scenarios was less than brilliant: I ran to the back while covering my ears.

I am entirely serious about this by the way.  And you know what, it worked.  Not one game was spoiled, and more importantly, no customers were offended by my actions.  I apologized and explained my situation when needed and they took it in stride.  Folllowing my shift, I would get home as quickly as possible.  If I was driving, no problem, but if I was walking, I needed to take side streets so as to avoid any restaurants or bars that might have had the highlights playing.  Once I got home, I turned the recording on and indulged in a completely unspoiled game.  Oh, and if you've read this far and don't find yourself passing judgement on me as something of a lunatic yet, I also cut myself off from outside communication until I've finished a game; remember, for all intensive purposes, I'm hours behind the real world's knowledge.  This means no Internet and no checking my phone until the final buzzer.

All of this effort to experience the game, and it doesn't require physically being in attendance.  So I wracked my brain for another possible explanation.  Aha, I thought, it's the atmosphere that holds the allure; thousands of like-minded fans is the value of attending the game.  This theory was proven false near the end of the second period.  I decided that in order to beat the line to the washroom, I would head there with a minute of play remaining, seeing as I couldn't just hit pause on the remote.  Even with this head start, there was congestion at the washroom door, and returning to my seat was akin to swimming against a strong current.  Add to this the fact that I consider Canucks fans in general to be some of the worst hockey fans there are, and that takes away the 'like-minded' portion of my theory.

I began to think that the value lay with inter-personal interactions, but on an individual level.  After all, my first date with my ex was at a Canucks game (also the first game I attended live), and I've only ever gone to games with people I like being around.  This particular theory almost had me convinced until I realized that the hockey was entirely tangential to the value; our first date could have been anywhere else and I would have enjoyed it still.

Other logical reasons against going to the games that crossed my mind are as follows:

• I only get the replays that are provided in-house.  These are often not intensive enough to fully understand what just happened.
• There's no commentary when you watch live.  Because of this, I couldn't figure out why the Canucks' defensive pairings switched for a significant amount of time in the second period.
• I couldn't (or rather, felt that I shouldn't, swear, seeing as there were small kids around me.  Factor in that my normal reaction to the opposing team scoring is a loud "Fuck!", and now I have a problem.
• $8 for a glass of watered down beer.  That should be a crime.

I agree with your sentiment.

Even with all of this logical reasoning against the notion of enjoying being at the game live, when the final buzzer rang, I was immensly happy with having been at the game.  This leaves two possible conclusions.  The first is that I'm insane.  Granted, you're probably thinking this makes sense based on how much effort I go to in order to avoid having the score spoiled for me, but I'd like to think that I'm not insane.  Slightly crazy, certainly, but not insane.

This leaves me with the conclusion that there is an intrinsic value in attending the games of sports teams you like.  Those last two words are critical to my conclusion; I wouldn't find value in attending a Blue Jackets vs. Islanders game for example.  But give me the opportunity to attend any Canucks game, and I will happily do so.  It doesn't matter that I'm giving up the luxuries of watching from my couch, and with that in mind, I eagerly await the Blackhawks coming to town, as I will be at that game too, cursing the bathroom lines, the $8 beer, and the hoards of objectively bad hockey fans.  And I will love every minute of it.