Well, I’ll get to Lundvqist later. But because today is my twenty-fourth birthday, I thought I would share with you the hotness that is Marc-Andre Fleury!

Beware: extremely image-heavy below the cut.

Fleury is a 25-year-old French Canadian from a small town near Montreal. The beginning of his professional career in hockey was starting and stopping. I would describe his play as exceptionally talented but inconsistent: when he’s good, he’s unquestionably in the top few of goalies in the league, but his quality of play isn’t level; it goes through highs and lows, and he can have pretty bad games, but very quickly rebound and demonstrate exactly why he is so valuable to have around.

Please note!

He normally does not wear the ugly moustache on his upper lip that show in a couple photos; it is a NHL tradition to let your facial hair grow unabated during the playoffs in hope of a full beard by the time you win the championship — he is so much hotter with his usual understated soul-patch, which you will see more of below.

(In general, the pictures get better the closer to the end ;))

For a long time Fleury wore bright yellow pads/gear, but eventually switched to white because the yellow was so easy to see against the background of white ice and thus easier to get around — white blends in enough to make it more difficult for offensemen to get past.

Fleury’s teammates most often describe him as immature, happy-go-lucky, care-free — he never seems to take anything too seriously, is always ready to have some fun, and is a general goofball.

A couple magazine covers from his younger days:

In mask:

He appears cross-eyed when you see him looking out of his goalie mask from a certain angle. I find this endearing.

In action:

The moment we won the Stanley Cup…

Winter Classic (Ty Conklin was the man in net that day, but there is always another goalie dressed for the game):

Victory parade (which we went to, which sucked but at least I can say we went!!)

Interviews and press conferences:

(Fleury can never talk without grinning. It’s adorable.)

GLASSES OMG:

Named to Team Canada:

Sidney Crosby walking with Fleury. The shirt Sid is wearing was a team t-shirt the 2007-2008 season (iirc) which had the word “SACRIFICE” written on it in the five different languages spoken by various members of the team. (This picture shows just how damn lanky Fleury is. You may have noticed I have a thing for skinny guys.)

In the locker room:

No comment!

I told you he was a goofball:

(I found this one with the filename “poor sleeves.”)

No comment again:

*cough*

Puppy!

Convinced yet?

How about a video of Fleury rocking out to Rock Band with a wild white wig and pink sunglasses?

I rest my case.

Marc Andre Fleury made the most ridiculous save against the Philadelphia Flyers last night:

This is why he’s my boyfriend. And also why my husband doesn’t mind.

I feel like a five-year-old who just got teleported into Disneyland for the first time. I start bouncing up and down giddily and crying do it again! do it again!!

Philadelphia’s Jeff Carter rushes to the net and makes a shot, which Marc-Andre Fleury thinks he has frozen but ends up coming out for a juicy rebound. Philadelphia’s Daniel Briere works in front of the net trying to chip the puck in, and Fleury falls on his side reaching to stop the puck just outside his crease. Briere makes one last attempt, trying to chip the puck over the body of Fleury, and Fleury, still lying on his side, rolls on his back and curls up just enough to grab the puck out of the air with his glove, legs in the air, rather like a turtle on his back…

Paul Steiggerwald: — good save by Fleury — the rebound, loose around the net, Fleury can’t corrall it — OH! makes a good glove save on a puck that was going over his body and into the net off the stick of Daniel Briere.

Bob Errey: Absolutely sick save by Marc-Andre Fleury, laying on his right side, and Briere thought he had himself when he chipped it, but Fleury somehow got the glove reaching back! …

I was in the midst of an awful whole-body migraine at the time, and ended up taking more painkillers than is technically safe to be able to attend the game. But this is the kind of thing that happens once in a lifetime, and it is one thing I firmly decided when I was a teenager in high school facing the choice between completing assignments or attending this or that social event (Prom and Grad Nite, mainly): there are times where I will sacrifice my physical wellbeing for the sake of participating in something that is important to me. I will not let my disability keep me from doing something fun, just because it is “fun” and therefore not allowed for the chronically ill (who face pressure to never, ever do anything that takes any sort of energy which is in any small way enjoyable to them — because then they are failing in their responsibilities to everyone else in the world, and seen as transgressing the dominant narrative of disability as a tragedy, something to somberly nod to one another about).

This doesn’t mean I abandon all responsibility and throw myself into every trivial thing that comes along. It means that I already have to sit out most events because of my disability, and I already have to put a disproportionate amount of energy into the basics of life, and I can’t let myself fall into that rut of always doing the more Serious and Important thing because that’s what I’m supposed to do, so yes, sometimes, I will say “fuck it,” bear the consequences, and go do that Really Fun Thing I was wanting to do, because I should not be denied participation in these things — sport games, concerts, art festivals, dinners out, parties, etc. — or shamed for daring to participate in them, just because I am disabled.

Anyway, pictures. I managed to get picturesof both Pittsburgh goals, as well as that crazy insane shift at the end of the game where Rob Scuderi stepped in front of the net and did some stand-in goaltending for the waylaid Marc-Andre Fleury. Enjoy.

The entire set

Me with Iceburgh, the Pittsburgh Penguins mascot (as posted previously here):

Inside Mellon Arena just before the game began:

Jordan Staal’s first goal:

Tyler Kennedy’s second goal:

‘nother panorama:

And the sequence of crazy man Rob Scuderi:

WE WON!!!:

The #1 Star, a.k.a. my “boyfriend” Marc-Andre Fleury:

A pano of the arena after most of the fans had gone:

And the laser logos the arena cast onto key buildings in downtown Pittsburgh:

Head over to check out the whole set.

It was a great experience — I love the DC area and I was excited to go back. But five hours in a car makes for stiff muscles, and I was already dealing with some endo flareup. So I was dealing with spasms and pain even with my TENS on (here’s the trick: if you have a big bag, security doesn’t bother patting you down when you enter) and more painkillers than I should have taken.

We had nosebleed seats but whatever, they were seats. It was a great game, even though we lost. It’s hard not to enjoy an NHL playoff game. Especially being able to whisper at each other about the clueless fans behind us who had several amusing misconceptions about how the game is played. (It’s fairly doubtful that the linesmen are biased in calling off-sides. It’s one of the most objective and least arguable calls there is. But “they only ever seem to see ours!”)

Throughout the game, the people behind us kept tapping my shoulder and yelling at me for leaning forward. They “couldn’t see.” Of course, everyone else in the section was leaning forward, and I couldn’t see without doing it too. But most of all, my back was killing me, and doubling over stretches the muscles in a way that helps relieve some pain. (Ask mattw — I sleep in the same damn position.) I tried sitting back for part of the second period but couldn’t last.

After a few times of them tapping me, toward the end of the game, I turned around when they tapped again and stuttered, loudly, wide-eyed and annoyed, “I have a disability — in — back in a lot of pain –”

and they sneered and threw up their hands at me. So I turned back around.

I was steaming inside. I complained to mattw on our way out when the game was over, noting that my TENS was turned up all the way and I’d already taken way too much medicine. And when we reached the bottom of one escalator, the couple behind me tapped my shoulder and the middle-aged bearded guy said, with a smile, “They meant it nicely.”

There are several things going on here. We were wearing Penguins shirts at a Capitals game, and there’s a budding rivalry there. It’s a playoff game, and there’s the whole MVP debate going on (Malkin vs. Ovechkin), so of course it’s contentious. I severely doubt they would have bothered me if I’d been wearing red & blue rather than black & gold. So I understand it. All in good fun, in that respect. A little rivalry can make the sport more fun.

It’s a national sports game, though. At a huge arena. Some people pay attention to the game. Those people might lean left, right, forward, backward, so on. And as long as they aren’t standing up all the time, or wearing a very tall hat or something, that’s accepted, and you work around it. You lean one way or the other to get a better view. People move around as the puck moves around the ice to see better. You move too. And when things are really tense, they probably scoot closer to the edge of their seat and lean forward. So you do the same. And at the very end of the game, people often stand up. Which means you stand up too. IOW, it’s a rather ridiculous thing to complain about, no less multiple times, and angrily (not politely).

Finally, their reaction mattered. When I spilled out why I kept leaning forward, they didn’t do what I expected — look away awkwardly and quiet down as though nothing was ever said. I’m used to that. But instead, they kept gesturing and yelling at me.

That’s what’s so frustrating. It’s not respected at all. Or only respected for so long as it has to be — when you have any reason no matter how trivial to discount that person’s experience or opinion, respect goes out the window. People with disabilities are “protected” in this society only insofar as they are nonthreatening. And that protection is paternalism at its extreme. But that’s a separate issue. When they aren’t subjects of protection, they are objects of harassment.

It isn’t the worst case of harassment I’ve had related to my disabilities, but it bothered me.

The greatest thing to happen to the world of sports since the advent of the telecast.

During their run for the Stanley Cup in spring 2008, the Pittsburgh Penguins, teamed with Consol Energy and Trib Total Media*, decided to put up a giant LCD screen facing the grassy area outside Mellon Arena, so that fans without tickets to the game could stop by — or camp out — and watch the game. For free.

Every game (weather permitting), home and away, was shown on the Big Screen. And fans responded. The place was packed. The energy was incredible. Even better the chance to gather and watch the games that did not take place on home ice.

As entrance (such as it was) was free, the team collected no direct revenue. But they set up concessions — barbecue grill and so forth — and made a good penny off of that. But you could still bring your own food, non-alcoholic drink, your own chairs/blankets/accommodations, and so forth. It was an open and free atmosphere. The area was not roped off, not guarded, not ticketed.

And it’s the most freaking genius thing ever. Yeah, they weren’t gonna make a buck off tickets, but they drew a whole lot of fans to the arena. They fanned the flame of fandom, cementing enthusiasm for hockey in the budding fanbase of Pittsburgh — an area that previously cared only about its precious Steelers. (My husband, a Pirates fan, has quite the complex about this, and I actually share his distaste for antagonistic element of Pittsburgh football fandom.) They found a way to make money off of local fans even when the team was playing an away game. And for once, more people than those who could afford the price of playoff hockey tix were able to gather in support of their team.

It’s playoff season again in Pittsburgh. We never would’ve thought it two months previous, when the Penguins were in such a slump that they aspired to a tenth-place finish in the Eastern Conference, but their fortunes rose and here they are: first round against their bitter rivals the Broad Street Bullies. If there’s one way to draw a crowd to a Penguins game, it’s to play against the hated Philadelphia Flyers! (I think it betrays Philly’s inferiority complex: why would they care so much about little ol’ Pittsburgh if they did not see us as a threat? Ha.) And fortune indeed shone upon us: the Pens get the home ice advantage.

And the team was smart enough to agree to put up the Big Screen again this year! A fan can’t help but be excited. Having had my share of bad experiences with booking overlord Ticketmaster, and being newly unemployed, I can’t exactly afford the price of playoff tickets. But I can afford the two-dollar T fare up into the city. And indeed, we are planning to go to every game possible. Because it’s an incredible experience, one I wouldn’t miss for all the world. I will always cherish the memories of the games we were able to attend last season, when I was new to the city, settling in to my new home. Forming an identity.

And I’m glad someone had the bright idea to do it. I can’t wait til tomorrow night.

See scenes from the May 4, 2008 game against the Rangers pictured above in my Flickr stream.

* Yeah, I’m not happy that my hockey team’s fortunes were sold to** Big Coal. And I know progressives aren’t a huge fan of the Scaife media. But one out of three isn’t bad, right?

** God, I’m going to miss Mellon Arena. Oldest arena in the country, and the city sees that as a bad thing. I love that fucking place, inaccessible as it is (and O, is it inaccessible!). But I’m still both a hockey newb and a swPA transplant, so I don’t get to make that call. Unfortunately.

Photography is more than a casual hobby for me; it is something I genuinely love to do. And I like to think I do a pretty good job of it. Playing with color, angle, perspective, focus and detail — I feel the same thrill I feel putting brush to canvas. There is something about art that truly does reach into the furthest depths of self. My photography has carried me through several particularly rough times in my life, and added unsurpassable depth and joy to some of the best times. It is also an art I can put to work even when I am not at my physical best. I don’t know that I can express how valuable that is to me. And I can only hope that others find some enjoyment in the work I put out.

Right now the pictures are from two Penguins playoff games last season, with some kitty pictures sprinkled in between. There’s much more to come.

Incidentally, a friend of mine just posted some of his pictures, and he has more patience than I — he’s described each photo, and he manages to be rather funny doing it. It’s worth checking out, seriously.