There was an odd guy sitting two seats to my right at the game last night who drove me batty. He was like a cross between Gilbert Gottfried and The Riddler, chattering away loudly and then laughing maniacally at his own imagined jokes. He also kept saying, "Way to forecheck, Big Red!" at utterly odd moments, mostly when there was no forechecking going on, or when Cornell didn't even have the puck.
Two nights in a row, the double overtime meant
So, last night after the game, after