The Biggest Avs Fan

The other night as the Penguins played the Avalanche in Colorado, my mind kept wandering from the game.

Yes, my team played more consistently, Fleury came up with the huge saves, and the power play looked organized.  Vitale got his first NHL goal, Sterling continued to prove he's worth calling up, and Kennedy won it for us in overtime.

But playing the Avs reminded me of my friend Devin Engles.

I even searched facebook partway through the game, but with no luck.

When I began following hockey, my love of the sport mingled with my penchant for collecting things.  In this case, my baby-sitting money went from purchasing shoes and earrings to buying sports cards, plastic sleeves, and collector's albums.  And don't forget pricing guides.

One of the hockey magazines that I subscribed to featured a section for kids to trade cards with each other.  I began writing to Angel in Buffalo, John in New York City, and Devin in Colorado.

We shared our favorite players with each other, and as we pulled cards, we would write and mail the hockey cards back and forth.  I saved up Haseks for Angel, Kovalevs for John, and Footes for Devin.  While I liked all of my new pen pals, I enjoyed writing to Devin because I could identify with her the most.

A girl after my own heart, she loved the Avs to the point of obsession.  She attended NHL games frequently, and honestly, it was just nice to have another female with whom to discuss hockey and its players.

When I went to college my card trading became less frequent.  I lost touch with my new friends.  Including Devin.

But obviously I haven't forgotten her.

I wish we could get in touch again.  I wonder what she's been doing all these years, who her current favorite player is, and how she would suggest her team turn itself around.  I'm hoping at some point I find her again.

Until then, I'll think of her at our teams' annual meeting.  At least.

Valentine's Day Revisited

Today George delivered my Valentine's Day gift.

I've known for two days what he chose for me, but today the package arrived.

Does my husband get me a dozen roses?  How about chocolates for the most romantic of holidays?

Not this year.

I liked the way my Aunt Lisa described it, "Nothing shouts Love like a hockey game with a possible melee on middle ice!"

At the end of next month, George and I will watch the Penguins play the Florida Panthers at Consol Center.  I'm anticipating my first trip to the new arena, even though as a person with a strong sense of nostalgia, any change of venue is bittersweet for me.

Speaking of bittersweet, I haven't seen any of the tickets for other games, but mine features Malkin and some Panthers players, but we won't have the opportunity to see Geno in action firsthand.  I'm hopeful that since the game is over a month away, our injured players might have the chance to recuperate so I can see them compete.

George and I will have been together for eleven years this Friday, and I thought I'd take a moment to go through our hockey history.

As I pointed out in "Introducing...Me," when George and I started dating, he made it clear that he hated hockey.  He didn't say he disliked it.  Or that he wasn't interested.  He told me he hated hockey.

I wasn't dismayed.  I knew it was more likely that he didn't understand it, so I didn't let it become a deal breaker.  Instead I chipped away.

During the playoffs I would lay claim to the lounge in my dorm so I could watch the Penguins.  George lived clear across campus, but he stayed up with me for the third longest overtime in NHL playoffs--92:01 of extra play (http://nbcsports.msnbc.com/id/12506186/).  The Flyers won that game, tying up the series, and went on to win the round too.

That same semester George escorted me to the formal hosted by our college men's hockey team.  As statistician I would attend this end of season event.  George was the only guy there who didn't play hockey.

I think George fell in love with the city of Pittsburgh the summer he spent his internship there (thank you, Uncle Rodney).  So it wasn't a difficult task getting him to the Igloo to buy Student Rush discounted tickets with my brothers and me throughout our remaining college years.  In fact, I think he was starting to like hockey by this point.

I spent part of my 2001 Christmas break with George and his mom in Rochester.  That year that we surprised each other by exchanging hockey jerseys.  I got George the Lemieux away jersey.  He got me the then new home jersey with the skating penguin.  For a [insert "poor"] college student, a hockey jersey is a pretty serious commitment.  Just another moment where George demonstrated he knew just what I wanted.

After I moved to Rochester, we spent quite a few years where we couldn't watch many Penguins games.  We focused on purchasing hockey cards.  He would buy them for my for my birthday, for Christmas, for no reason at all.  You'd think we might have caught more Amerks games than we did, but it's just not the same.  My brother Levi got us tickets a subsequent Christmas so we could go see the Penguins play in Buffalo, and we traveled the hour and a half to cheer our team to a win.

I credit Sidney Crosby, Evgeni Malkin, and Jordan Staal, though, in bringing us back to Penguins hockey with fervor.  Those three gave the team new life, and soon we were taking note of the Penguins in the playoffs once again.  Two years ago, George presented the NHL Center Ice package to me as an anniversary gift.

My husband has proven again and again how well he knows me by his gift giving.  While "a diamond is a girl's best friend," he knows I prefer a different kind of ice.

Thank you, George, for eleven wonderful years and all the spot-on gifts of hockey!

The Big One-Zero-Zero

In school, the 100th day is now a widely celebrated day, even though we didn't know day 100 from 76 from 110 when I was in grade school.

The kids usually put together some type of project, and they use it as an opportunity to count to 100 by 2s, or 5s or 10s.  They bring in one hundred pennies or one hundred pieces of popcorn or one hundred pop tabs.

At my son's school, the 100th day is February 18th, just over a week away, and he plans to make a picture of a Pokemon by gluing one hundred pieces of O-shaped fruit cereal to a piece of paper.

But Penguins fans have a different "100" milestone on the brain, and we're hoping it's reached long before February 18th.  In fact, between now and then, they have four opportunities to reach this mark.

Dan Bylsma is looking for his 100th win as a Penguins coach, and he'd achieve it more quickly than any other coach in the team's history, according to Bob Errey.

He's already had two chances. The Penguins lost 3-0 to the Caps and 4-1 to the Blue Jackets.

But now the feat is going to be that much harder.

Injuries plague the Penguins.  Crosby is hopeful he'll play again this season.  Malkin is out for the next six months due to his knee injury.  And then there are the injuries to Asham, Kunitz, Letestu, and Comrie.  On top of that, Cooke is serving a four game suspension, and obviously he offers both scrappiness and goal-scoring.

Still, it's possible.

I'm just hoping that if you can breathe the words "hundredth win" and take it away (just as quickly as thinking "shutout" makes that goose egg disappear), maybe you can say it's just about as impossible for Bylsma to get his 100th win tonight, and help make it happen.

They don't call it "Bylsmagic" for nothing.

Super Bowl Blues

I tend to take my sports pretty seriously, so please excuse the lapse in the blog posts.  I've been in a bit of an emotional funk since Sunday.

It was going to be a perfect day:  an afternoon Penguins game (I loves me a hockey matinee!) leading up to the Steelers in Super Bowl XLV.

I knew the game against the Caps would be a tough one.  Every one is.  But it shocked me when all our positive momentum in the first period left us down 1-0.  That we were held scoreless felt like a bad omen.  But I'm not a doom and gloom fan; hope springs eternal, right?

Down to the last couple minutes of the Super Bowl, I thought the Steelers might be able to redeem their first half performance and overcome the deficit.  When it was over, all the hype and anticipation of the day fell flat.

Some of my friends expressed the sentiment, "Even if they didn't win, they made it to the Super Bowl, and that's an accomplishment."  But ask any Buffalo Bills fan if losing at the Super Bowl (or four of) makes them feel any prouder of their team's resume.

How I feel now is nothing compared to when the Penguins lost to the Canadiens in last season's playoffs.  It doesn't compare to how I felt when the Steelers lost to the Patriots in the playoffs in 1996.  But it still manages to leave an empty spot, a little sick feeling, that makes me tend to agree with my friend Mentha, who said, "I don't want to talk about it."  I'm assuming, of course, she was referring to the Super Bowl.

What I could really use right now:  a Penguins win, a hocky matinee, someone to use "yinz" in a sentence, a move to Pennsylvania, a hat trick, Terrible Towels waving, a Yuengling, another Stanley Cup, anyone to declare that Green Bay didn't win that so much as show up and let us lose.  The list goes on and on.

What I'll take:  seeing my teams play, even if they lose; taking phone calls from Pennsylvanians as part of my job as a chance to hear that accent again; my son's agreement to play hockey, though only when given the ultimatum that it's hockey or swimming lessons;  a Yuengling Light drunk from a frozen Penguins mug; and any indication that I'm on way out of these Super Bowl blues.

Conversion

My Penguins gear tends to raise some eyebrows around here.  Everyone wants to know why would someone living in Rochester, NY be a Pittsburgh fan?

Rather than monologuing about how worthy they are, every time I declare that I'm from western PA.  That seems to be my answer to most questions these days.

Just yesterday my dental hygienist and I were discussing the Super Bowl, and she admitted to being a Bills fan.  Despite the team's current condition, she can't help it, because it's how she was born and raised; she's a product of her environment.

It may go without saying, but which team you follow has a lot to do with where you're from.

When I went to college, I tried to change that.  I knew I wouldn't be able to follow the Penguins like I always had--meaning if a game were on, I was watching it.  I was determined to become a Sabres fan instead.

Needless to say, it didn't happen.

I traded being an NHL fan, except for at playoff time since the stations would broadcast the Penguins games, and started doing statistics for the college team.  I would record where all the shots were taken from, would put together sheets of scoring leaders for the team, and would travel along on road games (even one time to Neville Island).

I also joined the college newspaper's sports section since writing (and reading) about sports was, and is, my passion (Better give credit here to my Journalism/Mass Communication major roommate Brooke, who asked me to go with her to the initial newspaper meeting!).  I wrote beat stories on the cross country team, features on swimmers and divers, unveiled the new school mascot and even interviewed the school's only NBA player since Bob Lanier before starting his first game as a freshman.  But the hockey beat was already taken by a senior.

Eventually, I had the leeway to write any story I wanted for my editorial, and I chose hockey as my subject.  The gist of it was this:  this school has a great hockey team, which it takes for granted because it is so preoccupied with basketball.

Not surprisingly, nothing happened.  Not even the slightest change.

Olean and St. Bonaventure will always be a basketball town.  Just like I can't convert to Sabres fandom.  Just like Miss Donna at Dr. O'Connor's office will always be tortured by her loyalty to the Bills.

There are simply some things you can't change:  where you come from and who you love.

An Elephant Never Forgets

One of my pastors used to tell the joke:  "Once I went to a boxing match, and a hockey game broke out."

Even though I've heard that a million times, I still give a little chuckle.

But you won't hear me chuckling about missing that fight last night.

First of all, I'm dismayed that NHL Center Ice did not have coverage for the second Penguins game in two nights.  I've come to realize that there are certain games I won't see, namely those broadcast on Versus or MSG, so I expected to miss the Rangers game, but not the one against the Islanders!

(But enough complaining.)

Second of all, thank goodness for technology.  If I hadn't been able to watch the video of the fight on http://penguins.nhl.com/, I probably would be lodging some serious complaints right now.  Instead, I blog!

I love a good fight, but it means more to me within the context of the game.  Luckily, Bob Errey's commentary fills in the details.

As Errey reminds viewers, in a previous match up DiPietro and Cooke had several run-ins, most of which resulted in interference penalties for Cooke.  Ummm...those penalties weren't during the last game on January 25th or even during our overtime loss to them on December 29th.  That game dated clear back to October 15th.  If that's the real reason for the interference on Cooke during a simple icing call in this game--well, talk about the memory of an elephant.

Fans with a shorter memory span would recall that before the All Star break, we beat the Islanders 1-0.  And that game two fights within the first two minutes.   Our previous two games against them featured only one fight each.  Only.

At this pace, maybe I'll be adding the Islanders to the list with the Canadiens, Flyers, Devils, and Caps.  (Due to their come-backs this season, I'm also considering the Bruins.)

This fight reminds me what a gritty team we have this year.  As http://www.hockeyfights.com indicates, the Pittsburgh Penguins (33-15-4) have the third most fights this season with 48, behind only the Ducks (28-21-4) and the Blues (22-20-7) who are tied with 49 apiece.

Contrary to this statistic, despite our grinding and cycling tactics, and mindless of our penalty kill record and goals against average, our reputation remains as a team of offensive prima donnas?

What more do the Pens have to do to prove they are the blue collar hardworking team they identify themselves as?

For Pete(Tagliantetti)'s sake, our goalie fought!  It may have been just one slug, but still, you don't see a lot of goalie on goalie action these days.

Normally it's Cooke and the other Penguins defending the netminder's space.  It's nice to know these things work both ways.

Our Little Secret

My husband and I would like our son Gregory to get involved in something.

Anything really.

Besides Pokemon.  Or maybe I should say, "In addition to Pokemon."

While George is really pushing for sports, I'd be happy with anything that makes him a little more active and gives him the opportunity to meet some kids his age.  I just want to promote him living healthy and being friendly.  Maybe you can relate.

When asked, Greg immediately ruled out Little League, football, and basketball--all to George's disappointment.

There might be hope for these someday.  I mean, he really enjoys the movie The Sandlot.  And now that he's made a friend that follows the Jets, he's a little more curious about football.  Plus, he and his classmates must be shooting around in Physical Education because he doesn't mind a basketball so much as long as it's not in a structured game (unfortunately once again for George, he won't even consider sitting down  and watching the UK Wildcats play one out).

We thought that since his friend Codie started karate, maybe Greg would want to do that too.

But like most other kids his age, he already thinks he is a karate and self-defense expert.  He watched The Karate Kid (2010), afterall.

Going out a limb, I even suggested fencing.

My husband thought this was a strange choice, but Greg does enjoy a good light saber duel.  Maybe some lessons would sharpen up his technique.  We found a place just down the street from us (imagine that!) that features Olympic caliber trainers, but is that a little intense for a seven year-old?

What I really want him to love, of course, is playing hockey.  But I just don't want to push him.

That's why it's been hard to contain the news that my friend Jamie gave me:  a YMCA near where we plan to relocate has a youth hockey program for kids his age.  And she's trying to get her daughter involved with it too.

I haven't told him yet because every once in awhile, he shows a bit of interest, but if I'm even slightly too eager, he'll revert.  He's a little like a hermit crab that way.

The good news is this:  when we went ice skating last year at an outdoor rink, which seems more challenging, he wanted to learn.  He tried so hard, and even if he wasn't gliding smoothly, he was working it out on his own.  The same size that will someday be advantageous to him currently makes it slightly harder to maneuver with grace.  I remember Gregory conceding that a hockey stick might help him balance.  And recently he wanted to try again.

Better yet--his school sent home a flyer the other day about an upcoming free skate that will be indoors.  I'm holding my breath that he'll ask to go.

So for now, this hockey league is our little secret.

Until I find a way to make him want it.

Maybe he'll surprise me by wanting it on his own.

And even if (or when) he chooses something completely different, I'll be pleased.