San Diego Gulls vs. Tucson Roadrunners — Sunday at Pechanga
The Sunday between Christmas and New Year's is the flattest day of the year. Everybody is home, nobody has plans, and the default is another afternoon of the same television. A five o'clock puck drop rescues it for the price of a movie ticket. Pechanga Arena in that dead week fills with families who have run out of things to do with visiting relatives, which makes for a forgiving, cheerful, slightly chaotic crowd — the opposite of the tense building a playoff race produces. Tucson visits for the second time in a month, and the Gulls will have scores to settle from it. Worth knowing: the arena is a genuinely old building, concrete and loud, and the upper seats have a better view of the full ice than the expensive ones do. Concessions are the old-fashioned kind rather than a curated food hall, and in that week of leftovers a plain arena hot dog is oddly the correct meal. Five o'clock, Sunday the twenty-seventh, Sports Arena Boulevard.
The Sunday between Christmas and New Year's is the flattest day of the year. Everybody is home, nobody has plans, and the default is another afternoon of the same television. A five o'clock puck drop rescues it for the price of a movie ticket. Pechanga Arena in that dead week fills with families who have run out of things to do with visiting relatives, which makes for a forgiving, cheerful, slightly chaotic crowd — the opposite of the tense building a playoff race produces. Tucson visits for the second time in a month, and the Gulls will have scores to settle from it. Worth knowing: the arena is a genuinely old building, concrete and loud, and the upper seats have a better view of the full ice than the expensive ones do. Concessions are the old-fashioned kind rather than a curated food hall, and in that week of leftovers a plain arena hot dog is oddly the correct meal. Five o'clock, Sunday the twenty-seventh, Sports Arena Boulevard.
The Sunday between Christmas and New Year's is the flattest day of the year. Everybody is home, nobody has plans, and the default is another afternoon of the same television. A five o'clock puck drop rescues it for the price of a movie ticket. Pechanga Arena in that dead week fills with families who have run out of things to do with visiting relatives, which makes for a forgiving, cheerful, slightly chaotic crowd — the opposite of the tense building a playoff race produces. Tucson visits for the second time in a month, and the Gulls will have scores to settle from it. Worth knowing: the arena is a genuinely old building, concrete and loud, and the upper seats have a better view of the full ice than the expensive ones do. Concessions are the old-fashioned kind rather than a curated food hall, and in that week of leftovers a plain arena hot dog is oddly the correct meal. Five o'clock, Sunday the twenty-seventh, Sports Arena Boulevard.