[Don't] Let Your Babies Grow Up to Play Hockey

Last night I used Terry's season ticket to attend the Cornell-Colgate hockey game (funniest ch/jeer of the evening: "Toothpaste! University! Toothpaste! University!" while pointing to each respective team. Second funniest ch/jeer: "Crest is better!"). It was a thrilling game, 1-1 tie going into overtime, when the winning goal was scored about a minute in. It's such a roller-coaster ride of euphoria and despair, riding the waves of emotion with a very expressive crowd.

The worst moment was when a CU player was hit in the head (I didn't see it, my friend C. says he was elbowed in the neck) and ended up on his knees and elbows on the ice for many long minutes as the medic crouched next to him and his brother, also on the team, stood guard nearby. Pretty scary, especially when you see how physical this game is, the falls and the body slams into the sides, you know it's serious when someone can't get up for a moment.

Eventually he was able to rise and the medic helped him off the ice as everyone applauded in relief.

Watching these games, especially when they're close, the tension is almost unbearable at times - and it's this very thing that has up until now kept me away from sports spectatorship. That, and I feel sorry for people when they get hurt. But being married to a sports FAN has helped me understand the athlete's point of view a little better - the risk of pain is part of the pleasure of the game. And going to hockey games has really helped me understand the addiction of the adrenaline rush. It's cathartic like theater is, only more intense. When I got home last night, I spent several hours online reading statistics on the team and the division, so this morning on the phone with Terry (he's on his way back from VA) we had an actual sports conversation!!!

I was reflecting on this and remembering my mom's advice when we got married: to explore and support each other's interests. She talked about how much it meant to her when my dad bought her a book of romantic poetry one time. I thought about how Terry knows more about knitting now than I'm certain he's ever dreamed he would - he knows what felting is, the difference between straights and circulars, the importance of dpns, and has even on several occasions ventured alone into yarn shops to buy me presents! So as much as hockey-talk is out of character for me, I'm really really enjoying getting into it.

Our friends whom we go to the games with have often expressed amazement at how "mild-mannered Elizabeth" turns into a screaming fan (under what other circumstances is it possibly socially acceptable to scream at someone "Hey [opponent]! DIIIIIEEEEEE!!!! Drop Dead! Go Home!" and enjoy it? Sorry, Colgate - it's nothing personal! Harvard, though - that's another story...) :-)

Also, I was thinking that if our baby turns out to be really into sports, this will help me relate to him/her. Although if s/he decides to play hockey... it's going to be really hard not to worry 24/7 about elbows to the neck.