Yesterday morning, I was crossing the bridge over the Chicago River and noticed about a half-dozen Canadian geese squawking away down on the surface of the river. They were really kicking up a ruckus. I wondered if any of them could have been our beloved Gertrude and Stanley.
At the end of the bridge was a homeless man, asking pedestrians for money. As I waiting for the light to change, he said to me, “What’s wrong with them black hawks?”
“Those are Canadian geese,” I replied.
“No! The black hawks,” he said emphatically.
“Those are all Canadian geese,” I replied, stressing my point.
“No! Hockey!” he said, making the motion of swinging a hockey stick.
“What about hockey?” I retorted, thinking that he was making a connection between hockey and the fact that these geese were from Canada.
He shook his head and muttered something in disgust. The light changed and I went on my way.
Then it dawned on me. Was the name of Chicago’s hockey team the Black Hawks?
Funny, I thought it was the Ice-Bats or something like that.
The dude definitely picked the wrong guy to banter about sports with.
Labels: Chicago Blackhawks