I must have mentioned a thousand times that I am Australian, as if to frame the context of my every crazy word, but I’ll be damned if I don’t mention it again. For my general ineptitude in discussing activities that take place beyond the freezing point of water will soon present itself, and I don’t want you thinking that I’m a bad American or a bad Canadian or whatever.
I’ll say it again, I am Australian, and as such, I can only be trusted in discussing activities that take place beyond the boiling point of water (and human flesh – oh yes, it’s a charmed life).
So here is an ice hockey game, and here is the sum total I know about the sport of ice hockey:
- The Mighty Ducks are a team, and they play for Disney.
- It’s on ice (so when The Mighty Ducks play, it’s Disney on Ice).
- Before The Mighty Ducks play or train, Emilio Estevez says “let’s hit the ice!”
- The goal is to mash your opponents into a bloody paste. Preferably into the walls.
I noticed that The Disney© Mighty Ducks™ are not a playable team in Hit the Ice, but the title itself is a choice Emilio Estevez quote, so I’ll let it slide. In fact, I’m reasonably certain that none of these teams exist in real life:
Then you choose your player. That’s funny, my name is a decidedly Russian Ivan Yakashev, but The Reds get these good solid, American names like Phil Bunker and “Gunner” Hall (I see a military theme emerging here). Good ol’ Phil does look a little like our Comrade, Zangief, though:
This is Russian subversion, my friends of Freedom and Democracy. Do I even need to spell it out for you? Ice Hockey = Cold War?
Then the scoreboard rolls down, adorned by the Stars and Stripes and the Maple Leaf, accompanied by a stunning pipe organ rendition of “in the la-and of the free, and the hooome of the braaaaave!” Ah, clever Russians!
The umpire clambers nervously to the centre of the rink. The organ builds in tempo and dynamics to a triumphant fortissimo: “DA-DA-DA DAA DA-DAAA!” The war has begun. Blades of wood thresh violently against the cold air, feeling for the elusive obsidian gem like an old man for his dentures on the bedside table. Hooking, slicing, Ivan Yakashev topples to the ground – those filthy Reds have the puck! “Gunner” Hall passes to Phil “Zangief” Bunker, who in turn twists his torso with robotic spring precision for the slapshot.
But Ivan is fuming with White hot rage. The organist, noticing this, plays the ominous “Dum—de-DUM-DUM DAAA!” theme from Dragnet. The message is clear: there is going to be a fight. Sticks fly in the air – they will not be needed. The world gasps in awe, and all eyes are fixed on these two Frost Giants, exchanging blow for Titan blow.
Brains addled, eyes narrowed, it no longer matters who is Russian or Aryan, Master or Slave – all that remains is Man and Man – primordial Warriors of the Ice.
Hit the Ice is not an impressive Emilio Estevez quote; it’s a chilling vision of the Russian Ideal:
A World of Ice. A World Without Disney. A World of Vodka and Violence.