On draft

The NHL draft is in town. I'm no expert on professional hockey, so my knowledge of the amateurs being selected is limited to what I've read in the local daily's pre-draft coverage. I wouldn't know who these guys are if I bumped into them on the concourse. For all I know, I might have.

Regardless, this seemed like a fun event to attend as a burgeoning hockey fan. It had the aura of something big, and tickets were free. Yes, I know the NHL is much-maligned in the sports pages and on the highlight shows of America, but it's still one of the Big Four sport leagues. These sorts of events don't roll into town every day.

I arrived at the arena about an hour before anything of consequence was scheduled. I walked around the tents and staging areas before taking a seat on a bench in the shade. Out came the knitting. I had plenty of time before Yellowcard was to play a concert, so I figured I'd put the waiting to good use and begin another dishcloth. I knitted seven rows before stashing the WIP in my bag. There I was, knitting outdoors in plain view of hundreds of passersby and unconcerned with what they might think. I've come a long way.

There's probably some humor to be found in the fact that the hockey draft party concert featured a band whose name could refer to a soccer penalty. (I've no clue about the true origin of their name.) I'm largely unfamiliar with Yellowcard other than knowing that they're the pop-punk band with a violin player. To tell the truth, a lot of these kinds of groups sound interchangeable to me, but it was a decent enough show.

They played a spirited set, and it was nice to soak up live music on a gorgeous summer afternoon. The lead guitarist is from Detroit, and thus a Red Wings fans, which earned some lusty boos from a crowd surely dominated by locals.

Contrary to what I thought, the seating wasn't entirely general admission. The lower bowl was off limits for non-personal seat license owners like myself, not that it really made that much difference. As I stated above, I don't know much about the players being picked, so this was about the experience. I would have had a better idea of draft dynamics by watching it on TV.

The biggest surprise to me was that they did not post a countdown on the scoreboard. The only time cue was when commissioner told teams when they had a minute left. Apparently the clubs get five minutes to make their choice, which keeps things moving a lot better than the NFL draft. (I've watched that sporadically through the years before abandoning it because it's almost all dead time filled by "expert" yammering.)

A sizable crowd was on hand for the draft, and they were in a feisty mood, booing commissioner Gary Bettman (not a popular guy in hockey circles from what I've read) and the introduction of any team that wasn't the hometown club. The Blue Jackets picked seventh. The one spike of energy in the building was in the lead-up to their pick. I hadn't heard of the player they chose, but hooray for our guy!

I stayed for the approximate duration of a hockey game. There wasn't much to do in between picks. The scoreboard displayed shots of the audience and ads for the latest version of the NHL video game and other sponsors. It wasn't boring, but without any context, a little went a long way.

I'm glad I went. It was interesting to see how something like this is put together, and there's a good chance the draft won't pass through these parts in the near future. That being said, I think my Saturday just got freed up. I had been planning on going to rounds 2-7, but if I was lost today, I'd really be out of the loop tomorrow.

Before I wrap for the evening, I have an FO. Sorry for the blown out photo. It's a rare case of having too much light when shooting these pics.

Waved welt dishcloth

Yarn: Lily The Original Sugar 'n Cream (100% cotton; worsted weight)
Color: Wine
Needles: US 7s
Stitches: 47

It is easily observable that an error exists smack dab in the middle. I saw it too late to have the heart to fix it. As much as it killed me to leave it alone, I didn't have the heart to unknit somewhere in the realm of one thousand stitches, especially as I was nearly finished. I would have rather given it away without the flaw, though.

I know what happened. I repeated a row with *p1, k7* when I should have *k1, p7*. I've made this pattern once before, and it's what I began again this afternoon.