"Sound of the drums, beating in my heart"

I've liked hockey for as far back as I can remember.

But on a cold shivery night nearly two years ago, it turned from a torrid lusty affair, into a commited loving relationship. That's right, I fell in love with hockey. We all sat huddled close, bums frozen to the sub-zero metal of the stands, our eyes torn between the the blaring scoreboard and rough scrape of the sticks. With the buzzer ticking down those last agonizingly delicious seconds, the puck shot its way across the goalie crease; and for a brilliant slice of time everything slowed in that perfection of granted childhood dreams. My ten year old cousin had won his tournament along side the rest of his Southland Speed Hockey team.

Whooping excitedly through the halls we came across the tallied score banner, and in what I now refer to as a 'fit of jubilant afterglow' I ripped the sticky tape and ran hysterically giggling from the arena. My younger cousins howled following behind the trailing meter of paper. What sealed the deal in my mind was the look on Marc's face, this look that completely reinforced my belief that there was no pizzaz in quiet pride, and expressive gestures were far too underrated.

Since then I can't help but equate hockey with that sense of over the top pride, love, joy, overwhelming excitement. This past Sunday the boys mangled together two on two street hockey and it brought me back to that childish glee. And really at the end of the day, what is better than capturing childish glee?

Okay, forget what I said about glee.  This is serious stuff....












And here's some of my favorite bugsy thrown in for good measure!