(Please refer to bottom of post for definition of a Puck Bunny)
I was on the NJ Transit train coming back from NYC when I over heard this young woman talking very loudly in front of me about how she had just gone to the NHL store. Cool, another chick that digs hockey, I thought. Then I hear her say, “And like, oh my god, I found this awesome Scott Gomez shirt for like $10, that’s an amazing bargain. I love him, he is so sexy, can’t wait to watch him play for the Rangers this year!” Okay, maybe she hadn’t gotten the news, but Gomez left the Rangers this past summer in June. This was September! That got me thinking about all you other puck bunnies out there. I understand that your raging hormones are difficult to control at times, like a dog that is in heat and wants to hump everything that it can get its paws on. But please, you are giving us other female hockey fans a bad name (and rep). Yes, I will agree with you that given the opportunity I would love to get a chance to wrap my arms around Zach Parise or David Clarkson, but that is NOT why I love hockey. And, on a side note, just because you want to jump Henrik Lundqvist does not, I REPEAT, does not make you a Rangers fan. Sure their glistening smiles–fake teeth or not–or testosterone driven fights are a turn on. But come on! There is no need to prance around in a perfectly good $175 personalized jersey with a players name on it, while holding up a sign saying “Zach, I LOVE YOU!” There are plenty of grown men out there who have a fond bromance for Martin Brodeur, but you don’t see Joe Shmo next to you in section 232 jumping up and down and wetting their pants everytime #9 hits the ice.
I have been a hockey fan for the last 8-9 years. I was extremely offended one time when some–let’s just say I wouldn’t be able to use the words to describe her before 10pm on network television–chick, called me a puck bunny. Not all girls who love hockey are in it for the aesthetics of the players physical attributes. Some, like myself and some close friends, are actually involved because we respect both the sport and the players–well, maybe not all *cough*ovechkin*cough*avery*cough*, just kidding. We understand the rules, we know most if not all the lines on the team, and could tell you the number corresponding with the player–which came to the surprise of the middle aged man sitting next to me at the Rangers v. Devils game at the Garden a few weeks ago, as I was screaming at Mike Mottau for high sticking (which then lead to the Rangers scoring a PP goal). I am an avid NJ Devils fan, but if there are no Devils games on, then I’m content watching any other game on that night. Hockey is exciting to me because of the speed, technique and talent of the players, not their bulging muscles, foreign Czech accents or bushy playoff beards–though they’re not bad (hey! I’m a girl, what can I say?)
We’re at a hockey game, not a Jonas Brothers concert. So stop holding up signs asking players to marry you or wearing shirts that say “Mrs. Zajac” unless you’re actually his wife–and trust me I’d know, I’ve met her before. This way, the rest of us true hockey fans can enjoy the game without your 12″x12″ pink poster board staring us in the face every stoppage of play.
Sincerely,
Kat
Puck Bunny: (n) A female who follows the sport of hockey because they view the players as attractive and they want to date, hook-up, or sleep with the players; these individuals may know a little about the actual sport of hockey, but their main objective is to get with one of the players.
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