The Man Theatening to Kill Me and The Men Threatening to Kill Their Favorite Hockey Teams
Thoughts on filling my mind with hockey instead of getting stalked
I circle my apartment after shows I can bring myself to go to looking at every angle of my apartment building for strange men who might look like the man sending me photos of himself with guns larger than what I’ve ever seen outside of an old boyfriend’s father’s gun safe. He’s been promising he’ll murder me. He’s been promising me he’s hellbent on ending my life – first via dozens of anonymous email accounts then via letterboxd bio with the username “iwillkillyoulol.” I’ve stopped going out after dark. I've cancelled on my friends who are, ever so rarely, in town on their tours. I guess we can thank the universe it’s May and not November. At least the sun doesn’t go down until just after 8:00 PM.
I see his face in my mind when I try to fall asleep. I see the emails with photos of apartments I’ve lived in. I see letters sent to my sister. I see emails from other people who have been swatted. I see the faces of FBI agents who got called by Reddit when he decided to say he was going to murder me over there. I didn’t get to read the posts. I don’t know that I’d want to.
I spend all day long listening to the voices of men. Music lets me think so I listen to podcasts and YouTubers. They talk about hockey and I learn all their allegiances. The Steve Dangle guys like the Leafs, obviously, I listened to their podcast even before someone wanted to kill me, but I tune into What Chaos! and learn that at least one of those dudes revels in the Leafs losing. I kind of do too, until the second round when I think about the Panthers playing my favorite team. His co-host hates doing their overtime streams when the Canes are playing. He wants to watch the Oilers. That’s fine. If I hadn’t picked Carolina due to finding Sebastian Aho charming at an All Star Weekend I might pick the magic of the Oilers over the science of the Canes too. I like Empty Netters, even if they lean a little hard into hoping to appeal to players. Maybe being a music writer who developed in the shadow of Dan Ozzi makes me understand that more than deep, irrational fandom type podcasters.
I listen to Dan Powers’ voice over and over again in Canes promo TikToks as I search through all the closets and tucked away corners of my apartment to make sure nobody is lingering in the shadows. Maybe on some level I feel like if I hear him talk about how they’re being undercut it’ll give me some sort of power. Maybe that’s corny. Maybe I just think it wouldn’t be so bad for the cops to eventually find my phone next to my dead body replaying Sebastian Aho and Andrei Svechnikov goals over and over.
Being stalked the way I have has kind of been like tinnitus – it’s real and it’s nagging, but it’s hard to know if it’s something happening in my environment or not. What’s real or isn’t is destroyed because it doesn’t really matter. The only thing that is actually real to me is the men in my headphones talking about hockey. Everyday it’s something different for them when it’s the same for me.
The Leafs have a chance! No they don’t! Yes they do!
The Oilers are out! Wait! No they’re not! They’re magic!
Panthers have no chance against Tampa! Wait! No they’re the most disrespected team in the league!
It’s all a rollercoaster I can get on, but the team I like stays steady. They’re called boring. I don’t mind it. I’ve always liked to know what to expect.
A good Slavin stick. A smart play by a man named Jordan. An overtime goal from Sebastian. An unlikely angle from Svech. Forecheck, forecheck, forecheck. Shoot. Shoot. Shoot.
I don't listen to music unless I have to. I'd rather leave my body listening to some guy try to give you an opinion that aligns nicely with the odds as defined by his sports betting sponsorship deal, so tonight I'll stay up to watch Steve Dangle freak out about the Leafs losing game 7 of the second round to the Panthers. While I listen to it I'll pace back and forth checking the extra locks I screwed into my doors over and over again.
Maybe on some level it's comforting to know he'll be more upset about the loss than I am about someone threatening to kill me everyday since February. Maybe it's just nice to see someone feel something so human while I feel robbed of everything real in my life by someone who has made me afraid of everything.
Maybe it doesn't matter. Whatever. Let's go Canes.
I'm gonna try to start writing more again. It's just hard.
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Miranda Reinert is a music adjacent writer, zine maker, podcaster and law school drop out based in Chicago. Check out PDFs of most of my zines at the link on the top of the screen. Follow me on Twitter or Bluesky to keep up on the next time I write about online fanbases: @mirandareinert. This blog does have a paid option and I would so appreciate any money you would be willing to throw me! You may also send me small bits of money at @miranda-reinert on venmo/on Paypal if you want. As always, thanks for reading!
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