90 Days in Europe: An Experiment in Culture Clash: Sparta Praha v Mlada Boleslav (Or How My Camera Was Temporarily Fixed)

The Patron Saint of Czech Hockey and Early 90's Mullets

Telling Czechs that you're from Pittsburgh is one of the best conversation starters you can imagine. What would normally be a brief exchange turns into an extended rap about Jaromir Jagr and Martin Straka and how awesome the Czech are at hockey. So, it seemed logical for me to ask about getting tickets to a game in Prague.

The city has two teams, Sparta Praha and Slavia Praha. Sparta's venue, Tesla Arena, was closer to my hostel, so I figured I'd just go on that and try to see Sparta play. The Sunday game--the only day the team was playing while I was in town--was between Sparta and Mlada Boleslav, from the Czech city of the same name.

Tickets were easy enough to get at the gate and at the equivalent of $4, it wasn't exactly like paying for an NHL game (Sparta and Boleslav both play in the top Czech league, the Extraliga). Inside the arena, the prices only got better: beer was cheaper than water ($1.50 for a half-liter of Budweiser Budvar). While the prices were different from NHL arenas, Tesla still put on some of the same corny pregame theatrics that you can find at any pro hockey game back in the States. From players taking the ice from an oversized spartan helmet to the team mascot skating around the ice saluting the crowd, it was less than...spartan. If you haven't closed your browser after that shitty wordplay, good for you! As a reward, here are some pictures.

Joining me were three Erasmus students--a Belgian, German, and Pole--and another solo traveler from Argentina. The Polish girl and I were the only two to have been to hockey games before, and we had promised the other three that there would be bloodshed and mangled bodies all over the ice, but alas, we didn't see any of that. The game lacked the violence that any bloodthirsty sports fan wants to see. No fights? Come on! One person in the group noted that hockey reminded him more of soccer than anything, which made me laugh considering how soccer is seen in the US (you know, they kick the ball with their feet and play like sissies and fall down and stuff!). Another big difference I noticed was how there was no seating up against the glass; instead, there was a ring where the mascot could walk around and wave and scare me little kids. Good thing there was no seating up against the glass because we got to see plenty of the game and I got a puck.

That's right--I got a puck. When the puck was deflected off of a Bloeslav player it came into the stands right towards us. Now you see, I was holding my camera in my right hand, so I put my entire hand over the camera to protect it; when the puck got to me, I just kind of stood there like an idiot and let the puck hit my right hand. The puck fell on the ground in front of me and I picked it up. For the next minute, I was on the jumbotron with a shit-eating grin on my face while proudly displaying my souvenir to the crowd. I wish I took a picture of the jumbotron, but I didn't. Oh well. But, when I did take a picture a few minutes later, the Black Dot of Brussels was gone. I know I don't understand cameras, but how the hell does a rain drop make a black dot appear on your camera indefinitely yet a hockey puck takes the black dot away? Either way, I was pretty psyched about that.