One of my biggest frustrations as a Sabres customer last season was how the Sabres box office handled my mini-pack order.  Basically, at some point last summer, I got on the phone with the Sabres, put in an order for hundreds of dollars worth of tickets, and then MONTHS later, after freaking out that somehow the entire order had been lost, I suddenly got a pile of tickets in the mail.  I never got an invoice or any explanation of how the cost broke down per game- nothing.  I just got tickets and a a ticket shaped “receipt” that said “total charge= x”  I thought is was a pretty lame system.

(The other story I like to tell about the Sabres and their inability to behave like a normal 21st century business is the story of when I tried to change my address with them.  First, I scoured their website trying to find a place to update my information, and when that failed, I called them up.  I was told that they could NOT change my address online or over the phone.  They needed my change of address in writing.  Like, on a piece of paper.  My two choices were to drive down to the arena and write my new address on a change of address form, or MAIL them my new address.  I wound up hand writing a note that said, “My name is Katebits.  My new address is blah blah blah,” and putting it in an envelope and mailing it to them via the US postal service.  With a stamp.  It was incredibly redonk.)

Because of my experience last year trying to get a mini-pack, I knew to brace myself for a rocky clerical road in regards to my season tickets.  When I authorized the Sabres to charge to my credit card over the phone on Monday I did so with a stern reminder to myself.  “Now Kate,” I warned, “the Sabres ticket office seems to be run using the technology of 1953.  You should NOT waste any energy worrying about invoices or receipts.  You should just have faith that everything will more or less work out.”  (”Blind faith” is kind of a staple of the Sabre fan’s arsenal, isn’t it?)

Imagine my pleasant surprise when I received a hand printed envelope from the Sabres today.  Could this possibly be the elusive, and heretofore presumed non-existent ticket invoice?  It WAS!  No way!

But still, I had to laugh at the stodgy old Sabres.  Here is what the Sabres call a “reservation receipt”.

I blacked out all of the valuable info, you identity stealing stalker-y types.

I believe that this is the original of a carbon copy receipt, hand printed on a three-year-old (at least) form.  It has a perforated edge on the top, which leads me to believe that somewhere at the Sabres box office they have a yellow (or pink) carbon copy of this receipt in a file cabinet.  It’s possible that, for now, this is the only evidence in existence that I spent thousands of dollars on season tickets.  I assume that eventually in the process things MUST become computerized, but even at this early stage, this is pathetically hilariously quaint.

They really ARE using 1950s technology!

Oh, Sabres.

I always love it when I happen to notice the clock at 12:34.  When I was a kid someone told me that you could make a wish at 12:34, and it’s a habit I never quite broke.  I don’t often make wishes anymore but when I happen to catch the clock at 12:34 some childlike part of me is always, like, “Oooh, magic” and then I pause for a nanosecond to thank the Digital Clock Gods for their generous and beautiful bounty.  Every once in awhile I still make a wish, but usually it’s something fairly grown-up and lame like, “world peace”.

Imagine my delight when I learned that today will contain the most MAGICAL time possible.  Today, for one second, at 12:34, the time will be 12:34:56 07/08/09.

I know.

Get your wishes ready, because the wish making conditions are going to be unique this afternoon.

Thank you, oh Digital Clock Gods.  For you are mighty and awesome.

The calendar says “July 8th”, but my heart says “IWANTHOCKEYTOSTARTRIGHTNOW”.

If you had asked me this morning, “Hey Kate, what do you think of the Sabres?”  I would have almost certainly replied, “I think they are very bad at managing, coaching, and playing hockey.”  I might have even said (only half-joking) that I hate the Sabres.

But tonight?  Tonight, I love the Sabres.

Today, I got season tickets.

Considering how much I bitch about the Sabres, I sure was pleased to get season tickets today.  In fact, I’m far more than pleased.  I’m psyched, and proud, and so so so so so excited.  I’ve been celebrating the tickets by singing a song (to the extreme delight of everyone nearby, I’m sure) that basically amounts to me filling all silences with, “Oooh Seeeea-son TIIIICK-ETS, I loove you!” sung to bellowed, randomly created pseudo-tunes.

I actually can’t recall a day since I became a hockey fan that I’ve felt more exuberant about the Sabres.

__________

A lot has been written and said about the Sabres since their decent into mediocrity began.  I’ve certainly never held back with my own criticisms about the team.  The Sabres have not been an easy team to root for these last two years, and I’ll admit that over the last few months I’ve occasionally allowed the Bucky Gleason’s of this world to effect how I think about the Sabres, and I’ve found myself wondering, “Why do we keep buying what the Sabres are selling?”

Thankfully, for me, becoming a season ticket holder was completely removed from all of that crankiness.

The most overwhelming feeling I have about my tickets is not one I was expecting to have when I put myself on the waiting list two years ago.  The strongest thing I feel is…pride.  I’m proud to have these tickets.  I’m proud that I sat on a list and waited for these seats.  I’m proud that I still wanted season tickets after watching two relatively dreary seasons.  I’m proud that I’ll have my own little territory in the arena.  I’m proud that I’m financially organized enough to pay for season tickets.  I’m proud that I’ll have season ticket neighbors (Hi, Kevin!).  I’m proud that I found a fun way to propel myself through the long Buffalo winters.  I’m proud that I turned myself into a Buffalonian.   I’m proud to be a Sabres fan.

Investing in an entire season of games didn’t feel like making an investment in the Sabres at all.   It felt like I was making a commitment to my fellow Sabres fans, and an investment in something that brings me joy.  When it came down to the wire (and when it came time to put my money where my blog is), it turned out that my desire to be a Sabres fan has very little to do with whether they win or lose.  I love being with other Buffalonians all cheering for the same thing, I love the ritual of going to the arena, and most of all, I love hockey.

I snapped those tickets up without hesitation, and it was one of the most gleeful purchases I’ve ever made.

Let’s go Buff-a-lo!

(Darcy and Larry Quinn are lounging around a fancy office.  Darcy is leaned all the way back in a chair with his feet up on the desk, and Larry is laying face down, draped over a couch on the other side of the room. A phone is ringing.)

*ring*

Darcy: I’m bored.

Larry: Me too. (pause) I can’t wait for the fireworks this weekend.

*ring*

*ring*

Darcy: Fireworks are awesome.

*ring*

Larry: (Picking head up from couch) Would you PLEASE answer that phone.

Darcy: YOU answer it.

Larry: Dude, I’m the boss of you.  Answer it.

*ring*

*ring*

Darcy: It’ll stop in a minute.

*ring*

Larry: Do you have any gum?

Darcy: No…..chewed it. (snaps gum)

*ring*

*ring*

*ring*

Larry: Who do you think that is calling?

Darcy: I dunno.  Probably some GM.  They’ve been hassling me all day.

Larry: Ugh.  I hate those guys.

*ring*

*ring*

(Jochen Hecht bursts into the room)

Hecht: OH MY GOD WILL SOMEONE ANSWER THE FLIPPING PHONE?!  IT’S BEEN RINGING FOR TWENTY MINUTES!

(Darcy and Larry don’t move except to lift their heads to look at Hecht)

Larry: Answer it yourself, Fritz.

(Hecht sighs dramatically and picks up phone)

Hecht: (into phone) Darcy Regier’s office, this is Jochen Hecht speaking.  (looks down at Darcy Reiger who nearly horizontal in his chair and blowing bubbles with his gum) No….he’s not available right now.  Can I take a message?  (begins scribbling things down on a pad) Okay, okay, I’ve got it.  Thank you Mr. Burke, I’ll have him call you right back.  Goodbye.

Darcy: (not moving) The Burkinator.  That dude is kuh-RAZY.   What did he want?

Hecht: (reading directly off notepad) Check your email….asswipe.  Schenn for Tallinider is off the table.

Larry: HAHAHA!  Brian Burke called you an asswipe, Darce.

Darcy: (mumbling) Whatever.

Hecht: (tosses pad onto desk in disgust) Shouldn’t you guys BE WORKING?!

Larry: We ARE working. (pause) We just took a call from Brian Burke.

Hecht: No you DIDN’T!

Darcy: Jochen, this is my quiet genius at work, okay?  If you don’t like it, maybe you should go play for another team. (sarcastically) Oh wait….You CAN’T, can you?   Nobody WANTS you on their team, do they?

Larry: Heh.  Your contract is untouchable, dude.

(Pause)

Darcy: I’m hungry.

Larry: Me too.

Darcy: Oooh.  You wanna get Jim’s for lunch, Lare?

(Larry leaps off the couch)

Larry: HELLZ YEAH I DO!

(Darcy leaps out of chair)

Darcy: WOOOOOOOOOOOO!

(Darcy and Larry high five and start a conga line out of the office)

End Scene

….and every player in the league is now a Hab.

Whaaaa?

Darcy signed a dude!  I REALLY did not see that coming.  His name is Steve Montador.

Here he is:

Hm.  Possibly douchy facial hair, but I like the caveman brow.

Analysis: APPROVED

In other news:

1.  The Blackhawks bought Soupy a new BFF (Hossa) for the next one hundred years.

2. Northtown Lexus is official over Daniel Briere, and now Paille seems to be their new spokesman.  His delivery of his radio ad confirms what I have long suspected: He can baaaarely read.

UPDATE

3. Spacek is a Hab!  I’m surprisingly grossed out by this.  3 years and 11.5 million seems pretty steep though.  Buh-bye, Spacek.

4. I’m sorry, Bulldog and Heather B.  TRADING ROY WOULD BE LUNACY.

UPDATE 2

5.  Dude, Montreal.  Save some players for the rest of us, please.

The Sabres trumpeted this information on their website and on Twitter:

All aboard the Lunch Express!  Next stop, tenth place!

I’d post a link, but the tweet has been deleted (good thing I took a screen shot!) and the information on the website has been changed. Apparently the segment will NOT be live, but taped in the morning, before free agency begins.

Still.

If I weren’t crying about the fact that our GM is wasting ANY time on July 1st with this nonsense, I’d be giggling about the fact that someone (probably SEVERAL people) at the Sabres organization thought this was a good plan.

Here’s how I’m pretty sure that went down:

Random PR dude: Hey, I know what Sabres fans want most on July 1st!

Hecht: For me to get traded?

Random PR dude: No!  They want the opportunity to ask Darcy Regier a softball question!

Hecht: Are…you sure about that?

Random PR dude: Of COURSE!  The Fans LOVE listening to Darcy drone on and on about his justification for doing nothing!  They LOVE it!  And do you know what else do fans love?

Hecht: ….?

Random PR dude: No, seriously. Take a guess.  What do fans love more than Darcy Regier?  Come on.  One guess.

Hecht:….um…..lunch?

Random PR dude: Exactly!  And trains!  Lunch, trains, and Darcy Regier!  It CAN’T FAIL!

Hecht: But shouldn’t Darcy be working, or at the very least be pretending to work tomorrow?  It’s the opening of free agency.  I think fans want to see change.  Won’t a “live” interview be sending the wrong message to the fans?

Random PR dude: Nah.  But what do you think Darcy?

Darcy Regier: Working?  On free agency day?  I’d be BURNED AT THE STAKE!  No!  The people want to ask me stuff!

Random PR dude: See!  It’s what the people want!  Trust me.  I know these things.  The Lunch Express is a big hit.  Next week we’re going to have an interview with Tom Golisano, but we’re not going to ask him any questions.  It’s just going to be ten minutes of him in Florida, sitting on a pile of cash, and making out with Monica Seles.  The Sabres fans are going to go NUTS for it!  WOOOO!

(long silence)

Hecht: I’d like a trade.

Darcy Regier: Well, too bad!  You’re untradeable!  WOOOOOOO!

Then, Darcy and the PR Department turn off all the phones, fax machines, and computers so the racket of other team’s GMs calling won’t interfere with the taping of the Lunch Express. Then they high five and start a conga line.

(I feel a little bad about this post.  I’m not sure that it’s cool to make fun of the Sabres PR people.  I think that athletes, coaches and GMs are fair game for bloggy meanness, but I’m less sure about the people working in the office.  Sorry, Sabres PR people! I couldn’t resist!)

(Now that I really think about it, this might be all Kevin Sylvester’s fault.)

(Blaming Kevin Sylvester for everything is fair, funny, and most likely totally accurate.)

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!  All done.

1.  I’m going to jump on the bandwagon and say, “YAY TWITTER!”  Anyone who poo-poos Twitter has never spent two weeks in the deep New Hampshire woods with only sporadic internet access.  Twitter has been HUGELY fabulous while I’ve been away.  Thanks to Twitter, I found out about Michael Jackson in a timely manner and I was able to follow along with the NHL draft while at the Apple Hill skit night.  Twitter is a great way to stay connected when you are away from a computer.  At this point in human history I demand to know what’s going on at all times, but I ALSO like leaving the house and stepping away from my computer.  That’s where Twitter is awfully handy.  Plus, it’s a hoot to see who rocks at Twittering and who sucks.

2. I hear Darcy drafted some big, punchy dude.  Excellent.

3. It sounds like Spacek is not going to be a Sabre next year.  That pisses me off a bit.  I get irritated when people act like losing Jaro is no big deal.  I think we still need him.  I know it’s still very early in the off season, but Darcy has a LONG way to go before I stop assuming the Sabres will suck next season.  A long long looooooooong way to go.

4. It also sounds like we should keep one eye on the Stafford situation.  I can’t quite put my finger on Staffy.  Part of me thinks he’s never going to pan out as a points leader, and part of me thinks that in a different system, with a different coach, he’s got the potential to be great.  I just have this hunch that Lindy and Staffy hate each other.  I’m wary of letting Stafford get away, but I’m also wary of giving him a contract based on his “potential”.  I’ve had it UP TO HERE waiting for the Sabres to live up to their potential.  Personally, I’d fire Lindy before I’d give up on Staffy, but I’m willing to admit that my judgement is wacky when it comes to these things.