Thicke Headed 

Alan Thicke is getting married.

So? Why? Who cares?

Actually, I don't. The news is true, but I don't care. Never liked "Growing Pains." It just reminds me of a story...

About Alan Thicke, oddly enough. A terrible story, with no real point. So I decided I'd spice it up by sharing a funny picture of Mr. Seaver. Unfortunately, according to Google, those don't exist:

thicke ain't funny

Google's overabundance of irony calms my soul.

But come on. The guy cracks a joke in a press statement. "I'll be on my third honeymoon, so I'm more of an authority than I care to be," he said... in a press statement. To tell the world he's getting married. For the third time. As if anyone cares.

And no one does. But that doesn't mean I hate Thicke. Nobody should. I see no reason to. He seemed to be an alright guy, and a loving TV father to Kirk Cameron. I just have a "meh" feeling about Thicke. So why? Why do you hate him oh so much? Seriously, if anyone out there has an agenda against Thicke, please explain.

great hawaiian shirtBack in 1999, the NHL All Star Game came to the Ice Palace in Tampa. My family snagged two tickets tickets to the night before's events at the arena, which includes the legends game, the celebrity game, and the skills competition. So I went to check it out. Our emcee for the night?

You guessed it: Alan Thicke.

It was really all pretty uneventful leading up to his introduction for the narration of the legends game. All the Orrs and the rest of the hockey grandfathers came out to much applause. "AND NOW..." the PA announcer exclaimed, "YOUR HOST, ALAN THICKE!"

Jesus Christ. You'd think this was a Philadelphia Eagles game and Santa Claus was on the field. 20,000 hockey fans went goddamn apeshit, throwing objects on the ice, yelling vulgar obscenities, and ringing in a chorus of boos. All because of Alan Thicke.

It was so random and unexpected. I felt like there was a secret anti-Thicke club I wasn't invited to. Maybe they had convened before the festivities kicked off and decided to bring a night of pain for Mr. Thicke in front of millions of people watching around the world. I don't know.

He ended up joining in on the celebrity game with the likes of Keifer Sutherland and - now wait for it - Cuba Gooding Jr.

Now come on. Alan Thicke? You hate him? And you applaud Cuba Gooding Jr.? I mean, I guess this was 1999 and "Snow Dogs" had not yet been unleashed on the world, but come on.

Thousands of drunk hockey fans booed and screamed with all their might every time Thicke touched the puck. I seriously felt like they'd murder this guy if they were given the chance. It was a bloodthirsty affair that haunts me to this day.

Thicke, being the classy guy he is, played it all off in style. "I love you, too," he told the crowd at one point during the night. I started to feel a hint of sympathy for him.

I'm sure some drunk, disgruntled hockey fan somewhere still remembers that night like I did, but probably for different reasons.

"Man, that Alan Thicke is a fucking shithead," he probably says to himself. "Remember that night he showed up at the All-Star Weekend?" he asks an imaginary friend. "Should have killed him then," he grunts, as he throws another dart into the cutout of Thicke's face.

The next night was the All Star game itself. Didn't have tickets to that one. But there, on TV, were the Backstreet Boys, belting out the national anthem. Maybe it was just because it was over the TV, but the crowd didn't seem nearly as riotous. Somewhere, deep down inside, that felt incredibly wrong to me. It felt like it went against everything I stood for as a human being.

So Thicke, wherever you are... you're okay by me.

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Reverend Hughes