Octopus on Ice

You wanna know how to win a hockey game? Throw an octopus onto the ice. Or a catfish. Or a leopard shark. They have to be dead, too. And in some cases, already cooked. 

Not that I'm advocating winning hockey games this way. I'm just telling you what some people actually do.

And there's all kinds of rules about how you do it. It started in Detroit with the Redwings. Allegedly, Pete and Jerry Cusimano, who owned the Detroit's Eastern Market, threw the first octopus on the ice in 1952. Cusimano sounds like an Italian name (I know, I have one, too), and octopi figure in Italian cuisine. Greek cuisine, too. So maybe that inaugural octopus came right out of their refrigerator at the store.

There is some logic to it. The Redwings were in the playoffs, and they had to win 8 games to win the Stanley Cup. An octopus has 8 legs. So, 8...8...you see where I'm going?

The other animals are hockey fan copycats (no, not real cats). The catfish is thrown on the ice in an attempt to make the Nashville Predators lucky. And the leopard shark might show up at a San Jose Shark's game.

I know. It's sports. People go crazy for their teams. Superstitions are what really win games anyway...right? I've been known to throw a cupcake at the TV screen when the NY Jets are playing. (That's another story.)

But placed within the history of animal sacrifice, does the octopi of the Detroit Redwings really measure up? Is winning a hockey game equal to the prayer for plentiful crops, or a ban on tornadoes, or the end of a drought? Depends on your priorities.

What we haven't seen a lot of -- unless it goes under a different name and guise that only animals know about -- is people sacrificed for animal needs like for protection or grace from the gods. I don't mean animal attacks for yummy human food or self-defense, I mean a ritual with no intention of wanting something to eat. Like the octopi on the ice hockey rink.

Octopi (they say) have individual personalities. One might be reclusive, another friendly, another destructive. They live by themselves in crevices or under rocks, which they call home for a few weeks until they choose another crevice or rock. At night they roam around finding seafood to eat. They might walk on the seafloor with their super-sensitive legs, or dart through the water at 25 mph. And they're smart, too. Check the video under links on this page for an octopus getting through a tiny hole. 

They only live about 3-5 years. And they die soon after they mate. The male first. Then once the eggs are off and out into the sea, the female. So they lead a very focused existence. Hide from Predators. Get food. Mate. Die. No time for --what the octopi might consider silly -- games. No three-clamshell-monty. Or sea pebble badminton. 

We humans probably don't have to worry about reciprocal sacrifice. I guess that's lucky. For us.