NHL Fines and Podgurski Fines
In order to keep players in line, and to prevent complete chaos on the ice, the NHL has rules and regulations. All professional sports do. The NHL fines players and coaches if they do something particularly bad. Back in October, the head coach of the Colorado Avalanche was fined $10,000 for this. Shawn Thorton of the Boston Bruins just returned yesterday from his 15 game suspension, which yielded a $84,615.45 forfeit in his salary. Here's the full list of suspensions/fines so far this season. My parents run a similar system in their household. Before you think my parents are psycho militant enforcers, remember that they are billeting three boys between the ages of 18-20, and also have my brother, Moose (age 23) living with them until he finds a job. Essentially, they are just trying to prevent their home from becoming a frat house. Here's a list of "The Mean P's Terrible, Cruel, Fine System."
The billets, my parents, and my brother, all sat down together and wrote the “laws,” and set the “fines.” If a law is broken, they are fined and place money in a mason jar that is displayed unceremoniously on the kitchen counter. The “offender” has the right to “appeal,” and see the “Judge” (aka The Queen, aka Mom) in what we call Kangaroo Court. Kangaroo Court takes places at the dinner table, and where Mother Dearest will hear your defense, and then proceed to tell you your fate. At that point you pray that you are not beheaded.
Those who know me, know that I swear all the damn time on occasion. But I do my absolute best to not do so in front of my parents (because my mom haaaates swearing, and just out of respect of being in the parental's home). So when I was home in Virginia for Christmas, I knew I’d need to watch that pretty lil’ mouth of mine. At first, I thought of just sticking a $20 in the fine jar, paying for my foul-mouthed offenses in advance. But I gave it some more thought, and felt like that was sort of a lame way to handle it, as my parents (my mom in this case) really don’t ask for that much. So I opted to see it as a challenge.
I had been home for just over a week. The night before I was flying back to Fort Lauderdale, I was feeling like a champ, having not sworn once in my parents home. But then it happened....
I tripped on one of Blue’s (the dog, not the billet) toys. As my perfectly painted toe bent and cracked in the most awkwardly painful way imaginable, I sang out the F-word. Naturally, my mom has impeccable timing, as she was a mere 5 feet away. I believe her exact words were “Dane, that was a bad one.” I knew my hope for appeal in Kangaroo Court was nonexistent. I went to the banker (my dad), and exchanged a $5 dollar bill for 5 singles, and into the jar a single went.
The Fine Jar.
An offense. A fine. Penance. All in under 5 minutes. If only this country's judiciary system was this efficient.
