Well, like most things, this event got me thinking about hockey, and the malicious things people do with the Internet. In the hockey world, I’ve seen it all. The online rumours tend to be pretty vicious. There was this trolly old bag from the States that decided to spread a rumour that an NHL player had a restraining order against me. As far as I know this was after she saw me at said player’s game vs. her team, and was just gawking at me. She had never seen me in person, and her biggest argument against me prior to this incident was always that my Psycho Lady Hockey photos are airbrushed, and I don’t look like that in real life. Well, I hope I don’t look like that in real life because, truthfully, I almost cried when I saw the pictures for the first time because I thought I looked so bad. Anyway, I’m not sure if that was the day she started the rumour or not; it wouldn’t exactly make sense, you know. I’d probably be dragged out of the arena in handcuffs because I can only imagine that attending a game would be a violation of the order, eh? Rumours like that put me in a tough spot, and make me look quite unsavoury. If I went to a game, I’d look like a stalker, and if I didn’t go, I’d look like a criminally charged stalker. Quite the pickle; give a point to the cunty old hag for that one.

Other times people don’t just hide behind the internet to voice their cunty opinions, they hide behind sexy photos, and sometimes a new identity altogether. Back when Hurricane Katrina had devastated America, and my name was on every headline in North America, I had a series of hockey players reach out to me out of the blue. It was JUST hockey players that did this, and I really don’t know why. Must have something to do with the way they are wired, “Hurricane Katrina… wait a minute… I know a Katrina…”

Anyway, one of the players was especially funny. He was a pretty boy and he knew the ladies loved him. One day, after the hurricane, I happened to be in front of my PC when this guy logged into MSN. When his name popped up I saw he had some picture of a statue up as his display pic. “What is that?!” I thought, and decided to click it to take a look. Upon further inspection, I discovered that it was a picture of the Wayne Gretzky statue from up in Oil Country. Unfazed I closed the window, and went about my business. It couldn’t have been more than 20 seconds before he messaged me. I suppose it took him those 20 seconds to select the best display picture he had on file because Gretzky had vanished. Where the Great One had been, there was a half naked photo of the player in question, and mama liked. Of course, I was in my celibate phase, so I probably felt more threatened by this conversation, than excited. He would go on to do this a few more times before the offseason ended; always showing up online with some nondescript photo, then BAM, he’d message me, and one of his Chippendale-like photos would be all over my monitor. He was just doing what he did best. Dangle a carrot in front of a bunny, and see if she wanted to take a bite. I probably would have, if I hadn’t been so pure. That’s what Katrina means, after all; pure, that is. I remember finding it funny at the time, in a terrified virginal kind of way. I remember saying to one of my sorority sisters, a few weeks before the hurricane hit, and meteorologists hadn’t fully understood how severe the Hurricane was going to get, “Oh they made a big mistake naming the hurricane, Katrina. We’re crazy bitches. If Hurricane Katrina isn’t one of the fiercest storms of all time, I’ll be shocked.” Yep, I knew the storm would be a bad one, but I definitely didn’t expect it to start raining men.

Now I’m sure this all sounds like fun and games, and with the exception of the odd rumour that crosses the line, it’s usually just stupid shit. But what happens when things start getting creepy? I’ve always been curious about those guys that pretend to be NHL players online. I told you about the time a “Calgary Flame” tried to pick me up at one of my birthday celebrations. The thing he hadn’t banked on was that I both knew what Brandon Prust looked AND sounded like, and that he wasn’t him. That’s a little different, though, at least I could see this guy and knew what I was getting. On the Internet you have no idea who is lurking behind the picture of your favourite NHL star. I get it a lot on Facebook. I’d say at least daily someone using a player’s name will send me a friend request. Usually I never investigate these things; I just assume it’s a fan doing it out of something they’ve convinced themselves is respect and admiration. However, sometimes these impostors take it further, and send me a message keeping up the charade that they are the player they claim to be. Why just the other day “Vinny Lecavalier” was trying to proposition me.

Who are these people? That’s what I really want to know. Are they just some stupid kids trying to have fun, or are they some sort of legitimate online predator that will throw you into the back of an ice cream truck and rape you three times in the ass before his Klondike bar melts?

Back when Facebook was just getting off the ground, everyone in TO was all about social networks. UToronto was the first Canadian school on there, and back in those days, when ONLY university students could get in, it was way cooler. You could see the profile of anyone at your school, and anyone you had a common friend with. It was a creeper’s paradise. People used it as a dating service that didn’t have the stigma attached to it. And it was pretty safe because you needed an active university email address to sign up. You never knew when some hottie from campus was going to give you the Poke. I will admit I did end up making out with a guy from school a few times that I had met because he poked me randomly one day. Scandal! Anyway, at the time there was another Toronto-based social networking site that was pretty popular in the GTA, and a wannabe hockey player using it as his hunting grounds.

This guy had added me randomly one day. Again, he had a picture of “himself” topless, and at maximum smolder. He told me he played for the Guelph Storm. Sure he did. This was back in my Guelph Storm days, and I had no idea who he was. See, he wasn’t actually smart enough to use the name of someone on the team to validate his story. Anyway, one day I got a random message from a notorious GTA puck bunny. Back in those days, girls didn’t just know player stats, they knew puck bunny stats as well. So, she sends me this novel asking me if I know the guy. Obviously, I said no, and that he randomly added me, but that we had never met. She proceeds to tell me some harrowing story about how he had persuaded her to come to his house, and when she got there she quickly discovered that the picture he was using not his own, but that of an actual OHL player that played for the Barrie Colts, and that he was some 98 lbs weakling that was playing Junior Development. Apparently, after the incident he was so mad that she shot him down, so he sent her the link to my profile, and told her that he was fucking me and I was sooooo good. Well, as long as he’s saying it was good, right? LOL!

The story of the fake OHL player is not really disturbing. Just some kid trying to get laid, and not considering that when he manages to get a girl to meet him offline, she might actually take off because he isn’t the person she was expecting. The Ryan Smyth Cybersault is a little more unsettling.

One day, “Ryan Smyth” added me to MSN. Now this wasn’t just some fan, this person was flat out pretending to be Ryan Smyth. It disturbed me because I wasn’t sure if this was a planned stunt, or just a random, yet coincidental hit. Even back then, before Psycho Lady Hockey, everyone knew that I was all about the puck. I decided to investigate the account. I wasn’t attempting to hack into his account, but I just wanted to check out some of the details he had floating around in his security area, and get a better grasp on the intent. Usually, I’d just make up a random password, wait for the system to tell I got it wrong, and begin the process of resetting the password. Of course, I wasn’t trying to succeed in the reset, but during the process I’d be able to ascertain where the person was from.

So, I typed in his email address, and then tabbed over to the Password section. I typed in the first bullshit thing I could think of, 123456. Imagine my surprise when his inbox opened up in front of me. Well, the fact that he used 123456 as his password was validation enough that the account was fake, not that I needed validation on that. What I saw next sincerely rattled me. Email after email was sitting in his inbox from Lavalife and Facebook and other dating sites shutting down his accounts for reports of suspicious activity. This was a guy setting up fake profiles to lure women off the internet. This was an actual predator!

I was really disturbed by this finding. It was only a couple months since something similar happened to another one of my sorority sisters. It was reading week, and instead of going somewhere warm, or, you know, actually studying, we were planning on having an all out drink fest – a different club every night! That last Friday of classes, we were ready to kick things off. She had a 6 o’clock class, so I was anxiously waiting for her to get back to the chapter house, so we could pretty up and go. Her class was supposed to end at 9PM, and was only a 10 minute from the house, so by the time the clock struck 10, I was beginning to wonder what was up.

I started calling her, and she wasn’t picking up the phone. As it got later, and later, some of the other girls were starting to get worried, too. We left so many messages on her phone, we maxed out her inbox, then her phone was mysteriously turned off. It turned into an all out (wo)manhunt that night. A few of us ran around to the frat houses, and asked if anyone had seen her, and to keep an eye out. Nobody had. Sometime around 3AM, we gave up, but I’m sure I barely slept that night.

Around noon the next day, she showed up at the house in cab… from the hospital. Some guy had dropped her off at the Emergency, and bolted. She had been drugged, but the rape kit indicated that no sexual assault had taken place. Our theory is that it was his first time using date rape drugs, and that he freaked out when he saw them take effect. When her 6 o’clock class ended he was waiting for her outside of the building. They had connected on Lavalife, and he somehow convinced her to give him her class schedule even though he didn’t go to our school.

He used the “random encounter” as an excuse to ask her to go for a drink. She agreed to go for ONE because she had plans with me later. I guess that’s why he roofied on the first drink. My friend always jokes that only an idiot does that. She left her drink only once to hit the ladies room. How he managed to drop the thing, I’ll never know – they were sitting up at the bar. The last thing she remembers is stumbling while trying to walk out the door.

Her cell was left at the bar which made me so fucking livid. Instead of answering a phone that was frantically ringing off the hook all night, they just shut it off. Geez, asshole, maybe it’s the person calling trying to find their fucking phone! I wanted to go over there and give the owner an ear full of angry crazy girl, but she wouldn’t let me. If they had only picked up, we could have at least had some clue as to where she was. I was, at least, given permission to send Lavalife a scathing complaint about the incident. They responded that they can’t take any action unless there is police involvement. OK, leave an aspiring rapist in your network. They could have at least said they would suspend the account and look into it. Twitter suspends accounts for no reason at all ALL the time, as we all know. It didn’t matter anyway, the perp’s profile had already mysteriously disappeared.

I felt it was my duty to do something about the Ryan Smyth impersonator, but I didn’t know what. I didn’t want to shut down his account because then he’d just make a new one and he’d have free reign to rejoin all the sites that had already thrown him out. And how could I report him to any authority, I shouldn’t have accidentally “hacked” into his inbox in the first place. I decided to brainstorm before I acted, and logged out, but not before I checked out his registered address and learned that he only lived 10 minutes away from me.

A day or so later “Ryan Smyth” logged in and attempted to start talking to me. He went into this whole thing about how he was “Ryan Smyth” and all sorts of shit that I just couldn’t stand. Like really, did he actually think that I’d buy that THE Ryan Smyth, with his ungodly playoff beard of mass destruction, would actually be creeping me online? I laughed at him, and in the same breath logged him out of MSN. I meant it as a warning not to try any shit with me, and he reacted like the devil himself. He logged back in, “You think you’re fucking smart, don’t you, you fucking bitch.” And block. No joke, for the next 12 months he made account after account, usually with some type of sexually violent handle, and tried to “get me” through the Internet. What was wrong with this guy? And what would have happened if I had the IQ of a wannabe hockey wife, and actually went running at the opportunity to get with THE “Ryan Smyth?”

The Rangers are Kitchener – Boom. Seriously, I swear before the rise of BlackBerry, Kitchener-Waterloo revolved around the Rangers. When the team was away at the Memorial Cup in 2003, the entire town was deserted because EVERYONE went. The Rangers were usually on the front page of the local newspaper, and the front page of the sports section. They were all over the place. Even now when I go home to visit my parents, I’m always shocked to find that team swag is being sold EVERYWHERE like in grocery stores, and pharmacies! And if you must know, ever since the hay day/my day when the roster consisted of Mike Richards, Derek Roy, Gregory Campbell, David Clarkson, and Steve Eminger, the Rangers have been a harder ticket to come by than the Leafs! The Rangers were and still are the shit!

For me, though, life happened at the Kitchener Aud. When I go there today, and see the fans sporting jerseys with the names of ghosts that still haunt the halls, all I can think of is how my life (and yours, if you’re a Psycho Lady superfan) would be so different if I had never ventured there a decade ago. This is where the hockey bug really bit me, and my curiosity to study the culture of the game really came into being. When I’m there today, I remember Friday nights of old. I remember borrowing my Dad’s car, and cruising down King Street with ridiculous music all night after the game – but not before the traditional trip to Timmy Ho’s! The week was centred on the Rangers Friday night home game. My friend used to go to school JUST so she wouldn’t be grounded for skipping class come game night. As you can see, hockey had a positive influence on everyone; that is until one boy came along.

He wasn’t the first one from the team to come a knockin’, but at this stage in my junior hockey life I had a newly acquired posse of girls that likely were not “hockey fans,” if you catch my drift. As soon as he showed interest in me, it was like getting us together became their job. I didn’t like the idea at first. You know… irrational puck bunny rules. You can’t get involved with a player because that would give people a reason to label you! Life’s too short for that crap, if you want advice from my years of wisdom. @#$% everyone else! Eventually, however, the guy grew on me, and I started to like having him around despite the stress from my hockey friends.

***BIG SHOCK – I LOST MY VIRGINITY TO A KITCHENER RANGER! – GET OVER IT!***

Don’t act like you’re surprised by this because I know you’re not! Anyway, my friends had decided that now that this guy was into me, I suddenly wasn’t good enough for him. I wasn’t allowed to go to anymore games unless they had done my hair AND makeup, and made me more presentable. I wish I could say that was the only stuff they did, but it’s not. Impersonating me online was a big one, too! I remember right around the time when the 2002-03 World Juniors was going on that holiday season, the girls finally gave me a few moments of peace. They had taken a liking to Scottie Upshall, who was the captain of Team Canada that year. It’s kind of funny to think about it now because I’d really have no idea who this guy was until years later, but for some reason the first thing I would think of when I thought about this whole virginity ordeal was his roster picture. He was kind of like a sanctuary. Whenever they’d flash him up on the TV screen, the girls would get all flustered and turn their attention away from making my life hell, and onto trilling about Upshall. It gave me one of those rare moments when I could actually exhale. I remember not being sure what all the fuss was about. He had some weird hair, I think. But, truthfully, I barely even looked at him. I had my own crisis at hand, after all. I mean, HELLO! A dirty hockey boy was trying to steal my greatest gift!

It took me a long time to take things “further” with this guy. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to; it’s just that wanting and doing are two very different things when you’re a panicky virgin. Finally I had decided to man up. It’s funny what kind of courage New Years Eve can inspire. The desire to change, or do something crazy, or just ring in the New Year with a bang – literally – can be overwhelming. It was a perfect situation, too. The billets were out of town, and so the sneaking around would be minimal. The one problem was that they were on a roadie in Michigan, so I had to wait all night for the team to get home. Naturally, the girls had to make me look presentable again. So in nervous horror I watched the Canada/Finland game TWICE that night as the girls fussed over my hair. I’ll never forget one line that the announcer said in that game, “Ruutu hammers Tootoo! Two to Ruutu!” Say that five times fast! Anyway, the party was cut short after my friend walked in on her Mom giving her Dad a hummer in the kitchen – nice! Love was in the air that night, eh?

During the night one of the girls had decided to put a note on one of players’ cars. It was one of those anonymous, “For a good time, call” kind of notes. She did it as a joke, but when she got a phone call around 2AM that night, the terror set in – the Rangers were home! I almost chickened out. I’m embarrassed to say it, but I stopped the car twice on the way over to his place – once on a highway ramp, and once at the gas station up the street from the billets’ house. I was wearing what I considered to be my lucky underwear – they were Majors colours (but that’s another scandal), which I think I wore to spite him in some way. He was wearing Rangers gear, which amused me to no end.

Perhaps it was a bad idea to make this guy wait so long because he clearly didn’t know what to do with me when he finally had me in his clutches, and by that, I mean one pump love. Seriously, one pump, but the damage was done. Definitely not a good idea to deflower someone on your billets bed! Anyway, the poor little guy took it very badly, and decided to be a dick about it. He wouldn’t talk to me for three months. The ordeal itself, however, was the talk of my old high school! I had already moved out to finish high school in Toronto, but at my former school in Waterloo, people were buzzing. I remember getting messages from people I had never even spoken to when I went to the school asking me about it. It was just like in that movie Easy A – eveeeeeeryone knew!

My friends, however, being virgins themselves (mostly), decided that I must have done something very bad to warrant the silent treatment from the hockey star, and they decided to shun me. That was my major, “What the @#$% just happened?” moment. And that was when I decided that I needed to understand what drove this whole subculture of puck bunnies and hockey players. I lost my friends over a guy they didn’t even know just because he played hockey. Little did they know that male insecurity was the reason for his dick-like behaviour. Three months later he was all apologies, and trying to get back in my good graces. I wasn’t having it though, so then the hockey ego reared its ugly head. Hockey players will pursue you intensely, but if you do something to upset them, like word an email too strongly, they will have a meltdown and try their hardest to completely destroy you.

Five years later, at the end of the 2007-08 season, he’d finally get a second chance with me. Maybe I felt bad for him, or maybe I felt I needed that closure, too, but I decided to see him one night when his big boy team was playing in Toronto. Sadly, it was another bad night for him, which I felt was justice being served somehow. It made me laugh. And if the fact that one of his teammates was right in the room next to us wasn’t awkward enough, I got caught doing the walk of shame the following morning, which made the game that night pretty uncomfortable. At least we were older this time, so wine could play a significant role in our untimely romance.

Memories.

When so much history happens in a place, you can’t go back there and not relive it even when it’s so far in the past, and life has taken you on countless amazing adventures since then. For me, the Guelph Storm (but that’s another scandal) game at the Aud last week was not without its moments of deep reflection. Although, I loved every minute of the action (the Rangers goal song still makes me bounce up and down like a little girl), I can’t look down at the ice and not see my life pass before my eyes. I look down at the seats and I see my friends yelling at the mascot for messing up my hair. I look at the bench and I can see him staring at me when the game is at the other end of the ice. I remember the afternoons sitting at my friend’s house with my hair in unsexy curlers, and wanting to die. I remember the night he saw me leaving the arena and sprinted after me to try to meet me for the first time. This place was the setting for my very own coming of age story, and I can’t help but feel the energy from those years electrify the air of the building every time I walk through the doors. Being there always makes wonder what would have happened if I had turned my car around that wintry night. I can’t imagine my life being anyone but the Psycho of hockey, but that was definitely the moment that hurled Psycho Lady into existence.

Anyway, when I went to university I stayed away from junior hockey for a long time. I moved onto the AHL and NHL, and left it behind until I thought I was old enough to go to a game and be left alone by the jail baity players. Last season, I decided 24 was old enough, and started revisiting the hockey rinks of my youth. However, apparently I was wrong about that whole age thing (but that’s another scandal).

By some miracle I remembered my way back to the rink. I haven’t been there since the end of 2004. Instead of Google Mapping the directions, I thought it would be more fun to see if I could get us there by memory. I’m telling you, I was 80% positive that we weren’t going to be seeing any hockey that night. If you’ve never been to Guelph, then you probably can’t quite grasp the difficulty of this mission. See, Guelph is known for having six-way intersections without even a HINT of a grid system. The first time I went there, I got so lost that I had to follow the visiting team’s bus in order to actually find the arena! Anyway, I’m not really sure what happened this time, I must have gone into some type of subconscious cruise control mode, because as soon as I saw a strange hidden intersection, I knew I had to turn (and by “turn” I mean “reckless swerve.”) Of course, The Co-Operators, a.k.a. the only office building in Guelph (I’m pretty sure), did help to guide my way after I made that turn. Once I saw their logo glowing in the distant night sky, I knew that we were close and hockey would be on the agenda after all.

But the victory of our successful twenty minute journey was short-lived when the ticket agent told us we were limited to two options for the game against the London Knights that night – standing room, or pimp suite. Umm, we’ll take pimp suite for 200, Alex! The suites were actually reasonably priced at $29 a head, but the downside is that you’re paying extra to share closed quarters with God knows who else. Our suite, number 27, was already occupied with a family of blondes with a major attitude problem – perfect! They gave us a nice stare down when we walked in like we had no right to be there. Apparently, they didn’t grasp the magnitude of my BMF cowgirl shirt. We knew we’d have a hard time dealing with these beasts without the assistance of our good friend, the cocktail bar.

The bar wasn’t in the suite or “stee” as I was calling it based on the letters STE printed on the ticket. It was a bit of a hike to get to that shining beacon of safety. They had a custom drink menu! My drink was boldly revolting in a strangely tolerable and almost enjoyable way. How fitting that my drink of choice was named, The Hockey Star. While watching the warm ups from the bar area, I had my most resilient idea of the night. Instead of going back to Stee 27, we’d sneak into 26 and lay low. It was pure luck that Stee 26 was the ONLY stee that was completely empty for the entire game. However, what seemed like a lucky break at first (a whole suite to ourselves), would soon turn out to be a nuisance which added more than a little stress to the game experience.

Half way through the first period an argument began to brew outside our door. Some type of suite manager (West Witch) was yelling at one of the security guards on account of the fact that there were only two people in our stee. My friend kept turning around and watching them, “Stop it. Stop it. Don’t do that.” I whispered while not taking my eyes off the game, “Don’t make it look like we’re not supposed to be in here.” What was hilarious about the argument was that the West Witch seemed to think that the box office was to blame for our presence in Stee 26. Apparently, they dropped the ball and gave us tickets they shouldn’t have. First of all, why was the security guard getting shit on for this, and, come on, did they not even CONSIDER that we may have just snuck in there, like we ACTUALLY did!? Despite that being mildly hilarious, the incident set an uneasy tone for the rest of the game. You can probably imagine that we were constantly looking over our shoulder whenever we sensed motion in the hallway.

And it didn’t help our paranoia that, Stormy, the new second mascot of the team behind Spyke, was stalking us. I’ve had several “incidences” with mascots in my day, but, given that the West Witch was on the prowl during the game, this one was far more startling. Originally, Stormy came into our stee and hugged us, etc, photo op, you know the drill – no big deal. Later on in the game, my hair stood on end when I began to sense movement in the room. Was it the West Witch? We didn’t want to turn around and look suspicious, so we kept our eyes on the ice. Then the heavy breathing started, but still we froze in our game watching position. Then it grabbed us! Fucking STORMY! Then he laughed and laughed in his mute mascot manner. I quickly theorized that we shouldn’t be fooled by his super cute and lovable exterior, he was probably working for the West Witch, and sent to spy on us and capture incriminating dialogue confessing to sneaking into Stee 26. Well, we didn’t give him the satisfaction – HA!

By the time the buzzer sounded to end the game, we still had not had a showdown with the West Witch. The shit storm never came, but that wasn’t the only thing that didn’t bother to show up. As I kept exclaiming throughout the game in an exasperated tone, “WHERE DEM BLONDES AT?” There were almost no puck bunnies at this game, and I only got to say, “Did you leave your red lollipop at home?” once! Were puck bunnies becoming extinct? Do I need to do another field study? In the last six years, Guelph, London, and Kitchener (twice) have all won the J. Ross Robertson trophy. Tickets became scarce in this puck bunny hot bed. Did the bunnies go extinct with the tickets? And what does this mean for not only their future, but this new generation of hockey players as well? Such questions need answers!

The last time I was in Guelph for a Storm game, I was eighteen years old. Coincidentally, the Storm were playing the London Knights that night as well for the 2004 OHL playoffs. Back then the teams looked very different. Instead of watching “LIIIIIITTTTTTTTTTTLE BOOOYYYYYYYS” (my cheer of the game), NHL stars like Daniel Paille (Bruins), Ryan Callahan (Rangers), Daniel Girardi (Rangers), Kevin Klein (Predators), Cam Janssen (Blues), Ryan Parent (Flyers), faced off against Brandon Prust (Flames), David Bolland (Blackhawks), Corey Perry (Ducks), Rob Schremp (Islanders), Dennis Wideman (Bruins), and Danny Syvret (Flyers). The players seemed so much older back then. It’s hard to believe that some of the liiiiiiiiiiiitttttle booooooyssss skating around that night will someday join the ranks of those listed above. Oh, P.S. one of the London Knights’ players is named, Knight! HAHA! Small things amuse me.

Anyway, that does it for my final game of 2009! I’ll be kicking off the 2010 half of the season by turning over a new leaf on Saturday when I retrace my steps along Lake Michigan for the first time since 2005! I’m more than done with the old (Coyotes), and waiting with open arms to welcome all the new year has to offer! Happy New Year, hockey fans!

Roll the credits…

(This was my jam when I was 17. I hate it when there are too many rookies, and not enough pros… P.S. Explicit Lyrics Warning!)

I was mostly excited to get back to the rink to see what the new generation of puck bunnies was up to. The Aud was, after all, the arena that inspired me to write Down the Rabbit Hole: A Guide to Puck Bunnies in the first place. Back in the day, at LEAST half the arena used to be filled with full fledged pucks, but, sadly, tonight I could hardly spot any! After the 2003 Memorial Cup victory, the Rangers had a harder ticket to come by than the Maple Leafs. It was impossible to get a seat unless you knew someone who had season tickets through work. I ended up switching teams to Guelph in 2004 as a result of the scarcity! Anyway, my theory is that when the tickets stopped being available, the puck bunny presence at the arena had to drop off dramatically.

I did see the odd cluster here and there. They were confined to the rink side standing room section. Back in the day, I would have DIED if I had to stand down there! These girls have evolved with the times. Sure, they all still play that game where they have to look “uninterested” in the players and the game. It’s a strange rule that they all have like they think that showing up isn’t enough to tip every one off that they are there for a reason and, maybe, I don’t know, to watch a game. Of course, they all saw me, too, in my 17 year old disguise. Unfortunately, given that fake tans and designer everything has become the trend in the six years since my hay day, they all looked significantly older than me (even when I’m not wearing purple lipstick and silver eyeshadow). See, tanning IS bad for you! Anyway, many of them became preoccupied with the fact that my seats (which were given to us by a season ticket holder) happened to be RIGHT next to the bench and theirs weren’t. I was an obvious threat – duh!

What was funny, also, was that they would disappear! When you have standing room you are free to roam about. There is the rink side level standing room (premium warm up location) then there is the upper location, which just happens to be right beside the box that the scratched and injured players sit in. Get ‘em while their weak, eh, ladies? During one of the intermissions, I actually saw a bunch of them chasing an injured one down!

It’s interesting the kind of perspective you get on junior hockey players with age. Back then, they seemed like a herd of savage beasts (I believe I used to call them “beasts” quite often actually); a bunch of cocky assholes jerking everyone around and screwing anything that moved. They were like walking nightmares. Then you grow up, but the boys, they stay the same, and you realize that they are just little boys who haven’t made it anywhere, and are still in awe of those who play above them (even in the AHL), the way that you or I might be in awe of Joe Sakic or Bobby Orr. You get a very different sense of them when you are old enough to start to look at them like the kids they are. It kind of makes you want to nurture them, and I suppose that’s why junior hockey fans are very parental in their support of the team and its players. Now, as for the billet moms that like to get it on with their charges, that’s another story.

I have to admit, I was spending more time playing with my camera, than actually watching the game. So, the following is a spinoff of the 24-style entry you saw me post with my Ducks/Red Wings game last month. Enjoy my horrible photos, and make sure you play this song while you look at them!

Roll the credits…

Hey everybody! Come over here and see how young I look! In my 17 y/o disguise.

…And just when I thought I was going to have a nice Coyote-free evening…The End.

10. Team Canada vs. Team Finland (December 31, 2002)

ACK! What I wouldn’t have given to have had actual plans on New Year’s Eve that year. For the first and only time in my life, I was experiencing constant peer-pressure. Let’s not discuss what it was pressure over, but the IIHF World Junior Championship games turned out to be the only rare occasions that my, then, friends would let up on trying to get me hooked on their ideas of who I should become entangled with. Some of them had a crush on the captain of Team Canada. I was so overwhelmed at the time that I didn’t notice him, but my most vivid memory of that time period was of his picture being on TV, and my friends letting up on me for a few brief moments just so they could gush over him. I guess the picture was ingrained on my mind as a type of safe haven, even though I had no idea who this player was (apart from his name), or where he played during the regular season. For years, I never actively thought of him again, but, like I said, his image would be the first memory that would come to me the moment I thought of this traumatic experience. I never knew or cared about what became of this guy, but sure enough, our paths would cross again and again and again in my hockey history. Anyway, I watched that game twice that night, nervous as Hell, and not absorbing a thing apart from one commentator’s strange remark, “Ruutu hammers Tootoo; two to Ruutu!” Try saying that five times fast! Replay: If I had plans on this NYE, had I been out of town, or far, far away from where I was; things would be different. I wouldn’t have learned the cold hard truth about puck bunnies, and the value of friendships when hockey players are involved. As a result, I never would have written Down the Rabbit Hole, and I likely would not be as involved with studying the culture of the game as I am today.

9. Kitchener Rangers vs. Guelph Storm (March 28, 2002 – Game 4)

The funny thing was the Kitchener Rangers were swept in the first four games of the 2002 OHL Playoffs, but ended up taking the Memorial Cup in 2003. Earlier that season, I was introduced to OHL hockey, and started introducing my friends to it as well. By this final game of the 2001-2002 season, one of my friends decided to meet up with a girl she knew from one of her extra-curricular activities (and I mean that in the non-dirty sense). This girl, and her friends, went to high school with the team, and they were full blown pucks. One girl had a webpage, you remember those homestead accounts people used to have, on which she posted a picture of every player she had relations with and what she did with them. Unlike the rumours people started about my site, this chick actually posted this stuff (and only this stuff) on hers. Anyway, these girls were in the habit of waiting for the players after the games, and they introduced my friends to this ritual. I remember how awkward I felt standing there. I never understood what they were after. They didn’t want autographs. They didn’t want pictures. They just wanted to be seen. I stood there pressed up against the concrete wall, looking down at my running shoes, and praying that the next thing out of someone’s mouth was, “OK! Let’s get out of here.” That offseason, I moved to Toronto to finish high school, and left my former hockey buddies behind to mingle with the likes of the locker room lurkers. On the weekends, when I started coming home again, I was horrified to learn that my friends had grown closer with the type of girls discussed above, and that they were now in the habit of waiting after every game. I remember fiddling with my keys, trying not to make eye contact, yet somehow some of these guys ended up with my phone number and email address. Replay: Had we decided not to go to this 2002 playoff game, my friends would have likely lost interest in the Rangers after my relocation to Majors territory. But since this didn’t happen, this behaviour eventually led to my very traumatic, and life defining experience during the 2003 WJC tourney the following season.

8. St. Michael’s Majors vs. Kitchener Rangers (February 10, 2002)

Of course, I already knew all about the Ontario Hockey League when I was a kid. I even sang the national anthem with my choir at one of the games back in grade school. However, it was my uncle who took me to my first REAL junior hockey game. I was really obsessed with the Leafs and never missed a game. This was before the horrid LeafsTV era. My uncle decided to introduce me to the O because he thought I would probably love it just as much. I did love it. I loved sitting so close to the ice and being able to get a sense of the size of the players and the quickness of the game. I never sat closer than the second last row of the upper bowl at the Air Canada Centre or Maple Leaf Gardens. Replay: Sometimes I wonder had the Rangers not been the team visiting St. Michael’s College School Arena, if I would have sought out the team when I was back home in Kitchener with my fellow Catholic school girl friends.

7. Employment with Maple Leaf Sports & Entertainment Ltd. (2005-2006 Season)

Leafs fans have been put through a lot like, a repeating history of horribleness, and a total scarcity of game tickets. That being said, they are loyal as Hell. The Leafs were my homeboys. They could do no wrong in my eyes, until the fateful day I accepted employment in an MLSE front office. After my dream job turned into a nightmare, I couldn’t stand the sight of the Leafs or any MLSE team. Thank goodness, the Rock and the Jays are independent of MLSE! Replay: Had I not gotten the job with MLSE, I know things would be different. To this day, I would still be a die-hard Leafs fan, albeit a sad one. I would have likely never began my NHL road adventures, and I’m sure I would have been more than content being a hometown, blue jersey wearing, Labatt drinking hockey fan. I would have never seen the things that I’ve seen, met the people I’ve met, or had the adventures I’ve had. Had I not taken this job, maybe I’d have all the things that a life on the road has prevented me from having. Maybe I’d have a boyfriend. Maybe I’d be married…with kids? Eek. This one really makes me wonder about how normal my life could have been.

6. Grand Rapids Griffins vs. Milwaukee Admirals (January 29, 2005)

The NHL Lock Out was a difficult time for all hockey fans. I decided to seek out the AHL as a substitute for my beloved Leafs. One night, my friend and I discussed wanting to go on a road trip. Neither of us cared where we went, so I nominated an AHL city because, being a Leafs fan, supporting the Hamilton Bulldogs seemed wrong. I nominated the Milwaukee Admirals on the grounds that they were the defending champs. I didn’t know much else about the team at the time, but after my first game at the Bradley Center on January 20th, 2005, I was hooked. We saw two games in Milwaukee, but on the way back to Toronto, fate intervened. Not paying attention to the road, we found ourselves on the I-96 headed toward Grand Rapids. It was at that moment that we realized how close some of the other AHL teams were to Toronto, and decided to see the Ads play there the following weekend. Replay: Had I not been so into the music, and noticed the off ramp in the left lane, I doubt I would have gone to another Milwaukee game every again. This would have stopped the wanderlust, which eventually turned into Psycho Lady Hockey, from developing.

5. Colorado Avalanche vs. Phoenix Coyotes (November 4, 2009)

This was the game that killed my feelings for the Phoenix Coyotes for good. When I visited the Pepsi Center for the first time, I realized that I couldn’t go home again. The Coyotes were all I knew. As much as I was starting to despise them, they were comfortable. After this game, I was very disillusioned about the Arizona Prophecy and fate in general. I guess, in time, I’ll learn about what the point of this Coyotes misadventure was, but for now it’s a mystery. Replay: What would have happened if I didn’t book this doomed vacation? Would I still be a Phoenix fan? Or was it only a matter of time before everything fell apart at the seams?

4. Buffalo Sabres vs. Philadelphia Flyers (February 20, 2007)

After my employment with MLSE, I was at a loss for a team for a couple of months. I had an idea to check out a game in Buffalo, as that was the closest NHL team to Toronto, so it made the most sense for me. They were going to be playing the Philadelphia Flyers on the night in question. I kept asking my friends if they wanted to go, but I was getting denied at every turn. Finally, I had given up on the idea, and just decided to be content with my hockey-less life. One day, the day my scouted Sabres tickets were set to expire on ebay, my, soon to be, hockey partner in crime sought me out. That night we won the tickets, and as it would turn out, they were a couple rows behind the Flyers bench. Instead of becoming a Sabres fan, my friend and I became fast Flyers fans, and scheduled our first trip to Philadelphia for less than two weeks later. Replay: Had my now friend (we had only met twice before that) not contacted me for that game, I never would have become a Flyers fans. I never would have had some of the best, and my most cherished, hockey years of my life with some of the craziest fans in the league. I also wonder if the Arizona Prophecy would have found me if I wasn’t wearing a sparkly black and orange target on my chest.

3. Toronto Maple Leafs vs. Hartford Whalers (1994ish)

My uncle decided I was old enough for my first NHL game at the Gardens. I was too lazy to look up the actual date of this game – sorry. At that time, my game experience was limited to Jays games at the SkyDome. I’d only ever see the one game at Maple Leaf Gardens, but the experience had a lasting effect on me and was, obviously, a defining moment in my hockey history. Replay: Had my uncle decided to take his friend to this game instead, I wonder if hockey would have been the thing I turned to in my teen years to keep me sane and stave off adolescent anxiety. I think it’s likely that I would have never found hockey on my own, if it wasn’t for my uncle’s influence in the sports department. It really makes me wonder what kind of life I could have had if I was completely untouched by the fastest sport on ice.

2. Boston Bruins vs. Philadelphia Flyers (March 3, 2009)

I wasn’t supposed to go to this game in Boston. Early on in the second half of the season, I had limited myself to only going to the Flyers game in Boston on February 7th. However, the trip went amiss, and I decided to give Boston another go. For some reason, Boston had always seemed very significant to me in terms of the Prophecy. Replay: Of course, I was thrust into my unexpected mystical six game road trip the day after this game. I wonder if I hadn’t been in Boston at the time, if I would have bothered to follow the predictions and switch teams to Phoenix as thoughtlessly as I had. I think it is more likely that I would have finished off the season with Philadelphia, and may or may not have reassessed things over the offseason.

1. Boston Bruins vs. Phoenix Coyotes (March 5, 2009)

Seeing that I was still in Boston on March 4th, I felt the call to the Arizona Prophecy after I received word that one of the predictions had fallen into place. I was supposed to be getting on a plane to Buffalo, and heading back home to Toronto. I was at a literal crossroads and I didn’t like the sane option. If Phoenix was the path I was supposed to go on, then I wanted to be able to either confirm or rule the Prophecy out by my own efforts – see (or not see) with my own eyes. It was the most romantic thing I ever did, the only strange thing about it was that I didn’t know who the guy was that I was running to. Replay: The safe bet would have been to get on that plane, but instead I ended up running out of Logan International and back downtown Boston. If I hadn’t received that text message, and got on that plane as scheduled, MAYBE I would have gone to the Coyotes game in Buffalo on the 6th, but I think it was likelier that I would have talked myself out of believing the psychics and searching for the possible man of my dreams. Maybe I would have been responsible and gone to class, instead of embarking upon a “money is no object” trip to find my destiny. I don’t know if there is something to the Arizona Prophecy, as far as I know I found nothing in the desert but heartache. Who knows what the point of all of this was, all I can say is that if I was a little more sane and a little less impulsive, I would have been a lot happier for the last nine months of my life. Oh well, at least I have the story to tell.