Gut Check as the NHL Beings Again

Three days of the flu seems like a rough way to prepare for the start of the NHL:2013.

If this short season will feel like being trapped in the backseat of a Tijuana taxi as it swerves and sideswipes its way toward either paradise or the lower reaches of hell (commonly viewed as the first mile you cover as you walk as toward town, if you exited the United States at the San Ysidro crossing ... at night), you might think that being down a few gallons of fluids while experiencing thought-crushing headaches would not put you in the proper mind for the great game of hockey.

Fools, I say to all of you. No pain, no gain. Nothing wakes you out of a soul-numbing layout like extreme nausea and baby bird sips of chicken broth. You come out of the flu with a hunger and thirst that grows in intensity the moment you realize you can eat this or drink that.

Three days into the young short-season, I have watched 16 games in full. I am back and I am stronger than before.

Wish I could say the same for the Kings, whose defense lost Matt Greene for the season and must still play minus Willie Mitchell. Those quick passes the Kings flashed in the playoffs? Replaced by tentative solo play that quicker skating teams feast on. Marian Hossa and Patrick Kane were picking pockets like the young and tender sales reps for Chiclets that one tries to avoid upon crossing into Tijuana.

Bad positioning (see the Ducks/Flames game or the Rangers/Penguins game) and not knowing who should be on the ice (see the Flyers against the Sabres) and you have that feeling that no seat belt can help you overcome.

But you must learn to love the uneasy feeling. Use it to your advantage. You cannot be certain of anything. There will be plenty of surprises along the way.

The last time I walked into Tijuana, I was a few blocks away from my destination on the Avenida Revolución. I saw this rather tall woman in a rather short skirt part company with a man. And as the woman turned to her right, a bankroll the size of luxury toilet paper fell out of her bag and hit the rubble that passed for a sidewalk.

I called out to alert her. She turned, smiled and retrieved her not-so-small fortune.

"Thank you," she said in her best James Earl Jones voice.

I should have seen that one coming. Keep your head up out here. It is going to be that kind of season.