I think that life as a mom forces me to seek decent ways to express rage. When my kid lies about stuff, for example, I can't say what's actually on my mind (which is usually a Pulp Fiction quotation, to be honest, along the lines of "Does Marcellus Wallace LOOK like a ..."). Instead, I reach for some maturity, and say, "Hey, your lies have far-reaching consequences that you need to ponder."
I am feeling this way about hockey this weekend. Although I'd like to punch the sport in the insufferably smug face, I'm too Mom for that.