So...I know it's been too many days since Blog Night but I'm finally here with more info. Unfortunately, there is no paycheck that accompanies this site (in fact...it costs quite a pretty penny to run it), so I have to give my time first to the job that pays my salary.

Anyway...George isn't feeling well tonight, so we decided to skip tonight's hockey game, opting not to drive downtown and spend three hours in an ice-filled arena, which means I have time to write for my peeps!

Today will be the final info from Blog Night at the Thrashers game. To review my comments while at the game, please CLICK THIS TEXT.

Enjoy!

Through various breaks that night (and since) I went to the pages of the other people who participated in the event and I'm disappointed to find that I had no idea about the pretzels up in the press area. I ate before we arrived, so I wasn't hungry, but apparently the pretzels up there are phenomenal and I am a total pretzel FREAK and I have been craving one ever since. I wonder how hard it would be to finagle another blog event just to sample the pretzels??

The press conference is where I left off, though, yes? Yes. And let me tell you, it was surreal. We were reminded not to ask any questions and the old admonishment from childhood crept to mind: "You will be SEEN and not HEARD, understand??" though they certainly didn't word it that way. We all agreed to sit back, watch quietly, and to not take pictures, though one blogger did convince the host to let her take pictures, but only after she promised the flash wouldn't be turned on. Yet...she couldn't figure out how to remove said flash, so she quickly took about a dozen pics of various people in the room trying to test it out, effectively blinding several people (and cracking me up, as well as forcing me to keep mumbling, each time she struggled with the flash, a piece from Eddie Murphy's old routine about his Aunt and waitin' for the flaaaaash).

Micah made me laugh when he was talking about how to be quiet and not ask the coach questions and not to take pictures, etc., etc., and said, jokingly, "And no eye contact, got it!?" and we all chuckled nervously and agreed, hoping he was kidding. He furthered the giggles by adding, "No...I meant ME...no eye contact with ME." He has great timing, though I'm sure my typed recap isn't doing it justice. Just remember: Micah = funny, okay? Thank you.

As I said, though, the conference was just surreal. I always watch Coach Hartley on television and from afar in my (albeit fantastic) season-ticket seats on the front row of the twice-attack balcony, but seeing him from 6 feet away? Wow. And while he may not appreciate me being this ...honest (riiiiigh, like he reads my site), I have to say that it was endearing as hell to see that he's NOT 10 feet tall, that he's soft-spoken and somewhat...shy. He wouldn't look any of the reporters in the eye while answering their questions, which really surprised me. He seems so strong and self-assured and...I don't know...it was just not what I expected (and it made me like him that much more; it humanized him). What was even better about the no-reporter-eye-contact deal is that he looked directly in MY eyes while answering most of the questions. And, like the complete doofus that I am, when the press conference finished and he left the room, I turned to the girl sitting next to me, performed about five rapid-fire bursts of clapping (I DON'T KNOW), giggled like a 12-year-old and said, "heee! he LOOKED at me! Heee!" Good grief, Gracie.

Ohhh, but the treats didn't end there. Nope. After the conference, we were given a tour of the locker rooms. No, the players weren't in them, but they were in the room next door, and someone DID forget to close the door, so I got a glimpse of SOMEONE'S naked back, though I'm not sure whose it was. I was quite surprised to find that it made me wildly uncomfortable, too. This happened as we were rounding the corner to the locker room and I wasn't yet aware that the room WE would be seeing was NOT full of men in various stages of undress. I got all goofy and red and stuttery and asked if I could wait outside (THE HELL!?) until I was assured that we would not be in the same room as the hot naked men. Whew. Look, I know it seems silly, but a) I'm married and that just feels wrong somehow and b) I just felt not only goofy and weird myself, but I thought it would be just rude and awkward as hell to traipse 11 bloggers and several staff members through a tiny room where they're all trying to recover and wash up and...whatever. I wanted NO part of that. Thankfully I got my wish. We instead went to the main locker room where the players suit up (and down) on their way either to the ice or to the back room where the showers and actual clothing changes take place. We saw the pads and jerseys (and jocks) and each had various stains upon them that nauseated me and which I choose to believe are stains of ice and milkshakes and cotton candy. Leave me alone...my mind is happy right now.

Did I mention the locker room smelled? Hhhhhhurrrrrllll. And it was not made better, as you might imagine, by the guy who insisted that it really wasn't that bad and he'd smelled WAY WORSE. Nope...still stunk, oddly enough.

I'm sure my fellow bloggers got tired of me giggling during our various tours and whispering "This is soooo like a field trip, isn't it?" because...well...it was. I felt like I was back in middle school being given a tour of the Metropolitan Museum of Art and where we were supposed to be quiet and polite and not notice the staff or other patrons and yet we stood out like sore thumbs and it felt somewhat silly and funny. That in NO way took away from my joy and I wouldn't have traded it for ANYTHING...it just felt...like a field trip.

Oh, and for those who need some schoolin': I would like to stress again that I absolutely disagree with the booing of Mike Dunham and really hope everyone knocks that crap off next time he comes to our house. It's embarrassing and childish. It's bad enough that Heatley is still booed (after all these years AND when we got such stellar players in his place!) but I at least understand that. He not only left after we fully supported him following the fatal accident in which he was involved, but he insulted us after he left, too, by saying how nice it was to finally "be in a 'real' hockey town". So while I hate that people are so blatantly and publicly rude as to boo, I get it. But not with Dunham. We didn't pick him up when we could have, so someone else did. Why on earth would you begrudge him any sort of success when we passed on him?? It's not like he willingly chose to leave us...he had no choice, really. So get the hell over it and stop acting like asses toward him. When you boo someone like Dunham? You actually bolster Heatley's contention that Atlanta isn't a 'real' hockey town. No true hockey fan (or town) would ever boo a player who was picked up by another team when our own team chose not to sign him. Did you really expect him to refuse the Islanders contract and say "Oh ho no...I'll just stay here n' play for free...for a team who...doesn't really want me..." Grow up, kids. It's a business.

Short answer for those who don't like long-winded Gracie rants:
Dunham was signed in September by the Islanders as an unrestricted free agent. He had already fulfilled his contract with us and was then free to sign with any team who offered him a contract and guess what boo-dorks, WE DIDN'T MAKE HIM AN OFFER. We chose to make a trade for Hedberg. Kari is our main goaltender, Hedberg is his backup, so (hate to say it) we didn't need Dunham anymore. It's asinine to boo someone WE PASSED ON.

Rant over.

As we left the press conference and locker rooms, we were led through a series of halls and stairways on our way to the exit and saw the team owner, several of the players (DOOD, I saw Hossa in his SHORTS...yowza!!) and a few other interviews taking place just outside the locker rooms and it was just so very cool and fantastic and I have NO doubt I was grinning like a total buffoon. I don't care, though. I was (and am) so grateful for the experience and it truly cemented my status as a complete Thrashers fan. Did I mention that my blood runs blue?

In closing, I would like to give HUGE thanks to Ben, Micah, the team, Coach Hartley, and all of the Thrashers and Atlanta Spirit staff who made that night possible. I know us bloggers aren't 'real press' but you certainly made us feel that way. And, if at all possible, deepened our love of the team by giving us that behind-the-scenes look at the inner workings. Thank you! I can't wait to do it again!

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