The Silence is Deafening

I pass by the Tank every day on my way to and from work. Everyday the train carries me past the entrance to the main lot on Santa Clara, past the satellite dishes and broadcast trucks, past the entrance/exit on Julian. Every work day I come within several hundred feet of the Tank, and I hardly even notice it's there. It stands, quiet, waiting to be filled. Some days a concert is in town, or the circus, and people flock to it in droves, but most of the time, it's empty. Just empty. It never occurred to me just how empty until I drove directly past it the other day. No one was in line to get in, the Sharks store was closed and dark, and the building seemed to sit forlornly against the coming fog. An arena with no team is no arena at all. Instead, it's a sad reminder of what was or could have been.

That's exactly what we'll have if the league locks the players out though. 30 empty, sad reminders of what was. We have thirteen days (not counting what little remains of today), to avoid at least some delay in the start of the NHL season. 13 days. That's not a lot of time. We don't have a seat at the table, and we're not going to. 13 days until a lockout. 13 days until this season goes from the potential to a reminder of what we might lose.

That is a mighty sad thought indeed.