8.20.2006

It's a date, I suppose

This will probably come off as nothing more than a case of middle-age whining, but between work and kindergarten schedules, I get very little time to spend with my family. The only time I can count on is like today, a Sunday, the sole weekend day that my employer, Florida's biggest and best newspaper, deems me unnecessary.

Usually, we just hang out, playing catch or soccer in the back yard before throwing dinner on the grill. Once a month, we continue our Summer Beach Tour 2006 to work on our sunburns. And, if the Devils Rays are in the middle of a homestand, like they are today with a game against the Tribe, we'll take in a matinee (Granted, they may stink as a team, but $12 and a AAA card will get you three tickets in the Beach or the 300s, and the parking is free).

Every once in a while, though, there is an event that inspires me to drag my sorry butt out of bed before noon or 1 p.m. (remember, please, that I work until 1:30 to 2 a.m., meaning I usually don't hit the rack until 4 or 5 a.m.), so I can spend some quality time with my wife and son.

This upcoming Saturday will be one of those times. My new hometown team, the 2004 Stanley Cup champion Tampa Bay Lightning, will hold what they call IceFest 2006. Basically, it's a marketing event designed to sell tickets, either single games (starting at only $19) or season-ticket packages (starting at $199 for 15 games). There's a chance to win prizes, meet some of the players (the team is promising that Brad Richards and Marty St. Louis will be there), buy discounted souvenirs, etc.

One benefit, and I learned this by proofreading a sports page before the presses starting rolling earlier this morning, is that if you buy at least four tickets, not just season tickets, you'll receive an autographed Brad Richards puck. Sounds like a deal, and some quality family time, to me.

P.S.: It seems the Evgeni Malkin, the Great Russian Defector, was not in Wilkes-Barre. Pa., as I had incorrectly guessed. He was spotted in Los Angeles. I guess I owe myself a sweaty, smelly facewash.

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