Noise

When I was in college, back just before the end of the dark ages, I attended Boston Bruin hockey games in the old Boston Garden. On a typical night, the haze of tobacco smoke overwhelmed the building, and aside from announcements for goals and penalties, the only other sound, outside of the very occasional cheers for the local lads (always in last place in the NHL in those days) there wasn't much in the way of sound. I never thought much about it, because the pauses in the action provided the group of us who went an opportunity to talk.

Nowadays, I've given up professional hockey (way too expensive) and attend college hockey games at the University of Minnesota (both men's and women's versions, by the way). The hockey is quite good, but the artificial noise produced is almost unbearable, and sometimes it is unbearable.

The purpose seems to be to whip the customers into some sort of seated frenzy, to convince them that they are being entertained, and to prevent any meaningful discussion between seatmates throughout the event. If it's not a goal or penalty announcement, then it's the band. If it's not a pathetic in between period competition involving a racing game or the singing of a lyric of a rock song, then it's a commercial blasting from the scoreboard and all the speakers in the building.

But sometimes you find your fingers in your ears to keep the blast of sound out, because if you don't, you will feel real pain. So I have become convinced that the by-product of all this noisy "fun" is a significantly higher probability that all of us in attendance will become deaf much earlier in our lives.

As a geezer, I understand that my high frequency hearing is somewhat impaired because of my years on the planet, but as I watch young parents bringing their infants and young children into the arena, I wonder what's happening to the kiddoes' hearing. No, actually I don't wonder; I know. If the arena sound doesn't make hurt their hearing, attending rock concerts and listening through ear buds to audio players cranked up so those of us across the room can hate the music being played will finish them off.

Because I go to a number of athletic events menaged by members of the same tribe of acoustical neanderthals (no insult intended to neanderthals, as I am sure they were really good neanderthals for their day), I decided to get a pair of fitted noise protectors. I am hopeful that they will allow me to enjoy the important part of the event - the competition and to ignore the rest of the codswallop and frou-frou which both cloud our minds and wreck our hearing.

You have been warned.

Postscript:  My noise protectors arrived, and they fit very well and knock 15 decibels off the sound without eliminating its quality and range.  What's more, I can hear the conversations around me and can chat with my neighbors without difficulty.

Good for me...still not good for all the others whose hearing is battered routinely at these events.  I think I should try to help them, but how?  I'll get back to you on that.