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November 27, 2002
THANKSGIVING IN MEMPHIS
By Matt Petersen
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NASHVILLE -- Well, hello from the Radio City where the
Barbecue ribs are at your beckoning call and the
honky-tonk bands have the waitresses dancing on the
bars. Yeehaw.
Too bad the night began kind of sour because after
they put a whupin on the Blues two nights before, the
Sharks took a header here to a struggling Nashville
squad. Hey, the Shark were at the end of a grueling
eight game road trip. They looked every bit the team
aching to get back home.
Nashville is right up there with Montreal and Miami as
the most intriguing stops of the tour. Although the
cold weather returned, we couldn’t get enough of the
downtown scenery, and ducked in to a bar or two to get
warm along Music Row. Downtown Nashville is where the
country music twangs seemingly from every orifice and
all the waitresses call you “honey.” We sat down at
Rippey’s Barbecue just across the street from the Geck
(the nickname for the Gaylord Entertainment Center),
and ate some ribs as a country band played “Good Ol’
Boys” (think “Dukes of Hazard”), on request. After
Jeff’s favorite song was honored, we had to get to
talkin’ to some of the hometown faithful.
Yes, many of the fans here sport boots and cowboy hats
along with their Pred’s sweaters, but they talked some
good hockey all the same. They love the contact, the
speed, and the fighting the game has to offer. This is
a football/wrestling/NASCAR crowd down here after all.
The Geck is a cool place that sits well. They play a
lot of country music at time-outs -- a band plays in
between periods. Like in Atlanta, we were a little
curious how loud it would be and how knowledgeable the
folks would be and they were fine on both counts.
Nashville boasted some of the loudest cheering we’d
heard, although it was pretty easy since they
throttled the Sharks from beginning to end.
After the game we hit up a couple bars and took in
some good ol’ Country/Western music. What other way to
experience hockey out here? We sat our butts down at
the Second Fiddle where the aforementioned waitress
danced with the lead singer on the bar. A confederate
flag hung on the wall and the folks hooted like it was
huntin’ season. We hit the sack after our beer at the
Fiddle and readied ourselves for Thanksgiving the next
day.
Thanksgiving day started off with a hearty sleep-in at
our Music Row hotel room before we headed off to
Little Rock, AK., at around 1 p.m. At 6 p.m., after
paying our respects at Graceland and singing a couple
of corny Elvis tunes, we found our way to Beale Street
and hit up an old place called the Rum Boogie.
The Rum is an old Juke Joint that felt like a bat cave
with hundreds of guitars and banjo’s hanging from the
ceiling. The bartender looked like Chet from Weird
Science with waist-length hair, and immediately
recommended the Gator Gumbo. Joe did that, Jeff did
some chicken, and I had some Catfish, ribs and red
beans and rice.
It was no turkey and stuffing that was for sure, but
we walked out of that place with a smile on our faces
all too familiar to a post-Thanksgiving meal. On the
way back to the car, Elvis waived at us from the
window of a bar across the street to stop in. Sorry
Elvis, we’ve got a record to break. Next stop,
Dallas...
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