Right now the Red Wings are playing the Calgary Flames in game 4 of their second round series. The game’s on cable, but unlike past playoff seasons I don’t have to rush out to a sports bar to catch the game. I have cable.

So why am I not watching the game? E.R.

My wife is taping E.R. so she can watch it later, forcing me to miss the first period. I’ve already missed an early Detroit goal and a commanding 9-2 shots on goal lead by Detroit, and the period’s only half over. I’ll be able to catch the second and third periods so it’s not that bad, though it’ll make for a late night. Isn’t this what Tivo was created for? Sigh.

So it’s the middle of the afternoon and my lunch break is becoming longer and longer. Today’s freelance work is rather tedious, and I just don’t want to go back. So I’ve been surfing the web. Feels just like the end days at BG.

This morning I read Jordon Cooper’s thoughts on hunting, and it got me thinking. Reflecting and being sentimental, I guess, but that’s just too bad.

My only experience hunting is through a good friend of mine (who happened to write a column in our youth group newsletter titled “Shootin’ Stuff with Shotguns”). He’s the outdoorsy type, loves hunting and camping. Gander Mountain is his favorite store. He actually got me interested in camping, and I’m eternally grateful.

He took me hunting once. It was grouse season, which shows you just what kind of a hunter he was. I didn’t even know what a grouse was. Apparently it’s a small, chicken-like bird. But we could hunt them within ten minutes of his house in the suburbs, so it worked out well.

Our hunting expedition involved trapsing through the woods after school, carting my friend’s shotgun and looking for stuff to shoot. He actually knew things about hunting, like how to flush out birds, where they would be, and how to spot evidence that they were around.

Most of the afternoon we didn’t see much. We took potshots at a squirrel and leveled a tree for lack of anything better to shoot at.

But as we returned to the car a group (gaggle? flock? family? mob? crowd?) of grouse crossed the path in front of us. In a smooth and fluid motion my friend leveled the shotgun and fired, taking down a grouse. Sudden and unexpected success.

We took the dead bird home and I watched as my friend cleaned it and tossed it in the freezer to cook later. A couple nights later he brought me some cooked grouse. It tasted like chicken.

I think hunting gets a bad rap. The above experience is my only hunting encounter, and it’s probably overly ideal. There’s a lot of bad hunters who really just want an excuse to drink alcohol and shoot stuff.

But proper hunting involves a lot of skill that at one time was essential for survival. While watching my friend clean what could easily be dinner, I realized that if it were not for the modern convenience of prepared food, I’d be screwed. I’m not so helpless that I don’t know how to cook, but if I had to figure out what part of the animal was edible meat, well forget it.

Sometimes I think a lack of these survival skills is a big loss. It’s not like I want to run around shooting stuff, skinning, and cooking it, but if something traumatic happened it’d be nice to be able to eat.

The end of an era came today. There is no longer a NASCAR Winston Cup Series. R.J. Reynolds Tobacco company pulled out as the series sponsor earlier this year, to be replaced by Nextel. Today was the final race of the NASCAR Winston Cup Series, a sponsorship that has lasted since 1971. Starting with the 2004 season, it’ll be called the NASCAR Nextel Cup Series.

All I can say is, it’s about time. This is a giant step forward for NASCAR, shedding one of the last remaining major TV advertising opportunities for tobacco companies. This can only add respectability to an already growing sport that is quickly losing its backwater stereotype.

I sat down to watch the Red Wings last night, which is something I don’t usually have the luxury of doing. They were playing the Wild, so it was a battle of my favorite team versus my new home team. The game ended 1-1 after a scoreless overtime, thanks to a late third period goal by Red Wings captain Steve Yzerman. A tie seems appropriate considering my divided loyalties.

As a bonus, my boy, Pavel Datsyuk, had a sweet breakaway scoring opportunity. He was taken down from behind, resulting in a penalty shot, but was still able to get a respectable shot off while sliding on his butt. Unfortunately his penalty shot was denied. Wild goalie Dwayne Roloson had seen footage of Datsyuk’s fancy moves and was ready for him. Better swap it up next time, Pavel.

I’m really not a big football guy. I only watched the Vikings game yesterday because it was on and I was feeling lazy. I don’t really cheer for any team, so much as I hope for an entertaining game. And it looks like that’s how yesterday’s Lions game went as well, a neck and neck game until the Lions broke out and won by an 18 point margin. Of course I only gathered that from the one or two recaps and the scrolling score ticker Fox provided during the Vikings/Packers game. It seems like the Lions have only ever sucked during my lifetime, so it’s nice to see them win.

Football seems like such an overdone sport sometimes. It’s worked its way into the American consciousness, becoming a Sunday afternoon, couch-warming tradition as the days grow colder, right up to the million-dollar-a-minute party that is the Super Bowl. We put so much stock in this bunch of guys throwing a ball around, we get so worked up over our favorite team and our biggest rival. I just want to lie on the couch and doze.

The dream finally ended. The Wild lost. At least they managed to score a goal in the last game. It’s something.

Of course, then the Wild have to do it all over again.

Wow. The Wild did it. I was preparing myself for a big letdown, but instead–NHL history. I can handle that.

I’ve become a Minnesota Wild fan. I admit it. It pains me to say that, because they spanked my favorite team 4-0 while I watched from the fourth row. And any time that happens to the Detroit Red Wings, you become a little bitter. Like a good Red Wings fan, I loathe Colorado. I still resent the New Jersey Devils for sweeping the Wings in 1995, their first trip to the Stanley Cup finals in 29 years.

But the magic of the hometown Wild and their rabid underdog effort has numbed that bitterness. Their stunning comeback against Colorado helped salve the shutout wound I nurse. Against the Canucks they’ve showed determination against a team that should be better. They’re a team of nobodies and cast-offs, a few veterans and rising stars, but no big names. Their trading cards would be worth the going rate for an average card. And they’ve got their own Pavel Datsyuk (my favorite Red Wing) in Marian Gaborik. Although like any team they can let you down (what is with blowing a two goal lead in the third and losing in overtime?!), they’re fun to watch. And they’re in the playoffs, and I must have my playoff hockey.

I’ve always said that Detroit is hockeytown. But Minnesota is the state of hockey, and that’s OK. Until the next time I’m in the fourth row.