Quest for the Cup

It's a Hockey Night In Pittsburgh, well in a couple of days, right now it is in Ottawa. Watching game one of the Pittsburgh Penguins and Ottawa Senators series made me realize how much I missed hockey. I know, the lock out was two years ago. Where have I been?

Once you leave the fun-filled confines of college and have to face real responsibility in life, the things you love the most always seem to be pushed to the side. For me, one of those loves was hockey. It was not an immediate abandonment of my favorite sport, but that is when it started. It was actually halfway through the 2001-2002 season when I just stopped watching and following only minimally ( I remember only because that was the season Jaromir Jagr was traded to the Washington Capitols, which my heart broke).

I started following the greatest show on ice in 1986, two years after the Pens drafted Mario Lemieux. At that time I found myself "in love" with a boy in my class. And thinking rationally, I decided to like what he liked. Of the things he liked, I am so glad I picked hockey (God only knows where I might be right now had I selected another interest). So I set out to learn as much about the sport as I could, which was not an easy task during that pre-Internet, pre-TiVo time. I had to actually go the library and stay up late to watch games.

Though that boy never became the love of my life, I don't even think we ever kissed, hockey did become one of my strongest passions. No sport has such athleticism - every player puts himself out there. You rarely hear about NHLers getting arrested, abusing spouses, driving under the influence, possession of narcotics, etc. like you do in football and basketball. They are the most underpaid of professional athletes, but no matter their salary, everyone plays hard, all of the time. And the league takes action against brutal attacks quickly.

In my teen years, I became OCD over it. I remember waiting outside the locker room after games, when you were still able to do that, just to get next to Jagr. I once helped him brush snow off of his Camero when I was 16. I would steal rocks from the drive of Lemieux's Mt. Lebanon home. On several occasions, I faked Communication Club activities so that I could use a university vehicle and gas card to drive to the igloo for games.

Now, I am lucky if I can tell you what number graces Sidney Crosby's jersey (no. 87). Again, it is the stress of being an adult that has led me to this sad state. What is worse is that I did not start getting back into it sooner, rather I waited until the first round of the playoffs. I feel like a fair-weather fan, but I was there in the pre-Stanley Cup years cheering them even after a loss. Even if they get swept by the Senators (which I am hoping does not happen), I will make more of an effort to watch games and actually participate in an NHL fantasy league (I make that vow every fall, but never follow through). As well, I will push my husband to name our first son (if we ever have one) after Boston Bruins great Cam Neely. I don't think he will go for Jaromir.