The Ballad of Jason Demers

As many of you know from this posting, I try my best to stay sane, coherent, and as creep free as possible when spotting players in the wild. I started my working life in Hollywood, and have literally rubbed elbows with some big names, all of whom I might have been somewhat excited by, but was able to keep a cool, mostly professional demeanor around. Not so with hockey players. This Saturday the ladies of my departments and I were having a much needed day out to do girly crap like get our nails done, eat salads and generally sound like a herd of squawking hens, busily discussing things no one else cares about, when we happened into Pluto’s in Santana Row. This was my first venture into this fine establishment, and as I stood, confounded by all the lines and lights and new fangled ways of ordering things, my eyes happened upon a young man in a Giants cap who looked startlingly familiar. I paused, in the middle of the room, the most convient spot, and stared at this fel...