I know a guy that lives in a house full of women. (No, he is not a pimp.) And sometimes, especially in the summer, the women in this guy's house do not feel like talking about hockey. The guy has never discussed this publicly, until recently. For years this dude tucked his shame away, deep inside, and lived in a lonely world of self-loathing and denial.
But this isn't a story about a woman and her three daughters and the cruel campaign of emotional torture they wage against an innocent husband/father each hockey off-season. This is about how that dude climbed out of the hole. This is about personal triumph. And yes, that dude is me.
I am talking about this now because I reached out and I got help. I am suffering no longer. I am whole now, a complete hockey fan. I know there are many other fans out there who are still living in the same condo in hell where I once resided. And I want to help them. I want them to know that things turned around for me when I found Cannonfest.
I could go on and on about the many ways that Cannonfest has helped me and the tremendously positive impact it has had on my life, but words alone cannot convey the depth of the experience. You have to feel Cannonfest in person to truly appreciate it. You have to live it.
You have to bask in the the comraderie, acceptance and unconditional love that hugs you from the moment you first walk into the room. You have to feel the goosebumps on your neck when Skraut's newest video makes its debut on the big screens (and you will FEEL them thanks to the kick-ass sound system at B-Dubs in Grandview.) You have to taste the beer and let the cold wetness linger on your lips.
My message to all of you suffering hockey fans is simple: Cannonfest is coming. Cannonfest saves.