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Tag: st. michael’s majors

Monday, May 30th, 2011

The Hangover Part 3: Memorial Cup week in Mississauga.

All I do is win, win, win no matter what…

Mississauga, ON The sun was streaming through the window Monday morning like the whole world knew that it was a holiday. Mother Nature had decided to give us a reason to celebrate by letting up on the constant rain for a couple of days. It was Victoria Day weekend, or the infamous May 2-4, that most Canadians celebrate by drinking waaaaay too much. It was was also the start of the storied Memorial Cup tournament. The tournament was already three games deep, of this I was certain, but what happened following the Majors victory over the Kootenay Ice of the Western Hockey League, I hadn’t the slightest idea.

It was around 8AM the morning after. I had awoken somewhere in Mississauga with absolutely no memory of what had transpired following a few too many tall boys at Hershey Centre Sunday night. I was completely naked in a bed that wasn’t mine, with bruises all over my body, including a suspicious looking handprint on my ass – that is still there to this day, I might add! My clothes were brazenly scattered on opposite sides of the foreign bed, wherein a gentleman caller slept in a similar state of disarray. Though, I suppose I was actually the gentleman caller, since this was his place. Hmm…

My head throbbed and my body was moments away from certain destruction at the hands of extreme dehydration. Why couldn’t I remember what had happened the night before? I racked my brain trying to find even the slightest clue as to how I wound up lying next to a naked man, but came up with a total blank and lots of it. Even in some of my more “veteran” post game experiences, like on my trips to Montreal and Pittsburgh in the 2008-09 season, I still never had a complete blackout. Don’t think the irony wasn’t lost on me either. My first case of total memory loss just happens to occur during the Memorial Cup?! Yeah… hilarious.

I turned over on my side, and tried to go back to sleep. I still felt a little bit drunk, and, well, given the circumstances, I probably still was. My hips ached as they pressed against the mattress. They were bruised to Hell, much like the rest of me. I had clearly missed out on something epic the night before, and I was extremely sad about that. I always had my theories about goalies, but now that I had actually had one, I couldn’t remember a damn thing. It was too unfair. Before I shut my eyes again, a fleck of gold on the nightstand caught my attention. There was a pack of Magnums resting there and waiting on deck for the morning romp. I had never seen one of those before, and I dropped my pounding head back against the pillow in utter defeat. “Fuck,” I thought as I shut my eyes again. “I really did miss something good last night.”

Around 11AM I did the walk of shame hoping that I wouldn’t see anyone I may have met the night before. I headed straight for the A&W. In times like these, a greasy Papa Burger is the only answer. I was discombobulated for days after my Mem Cup tryst. Everything looked so unfamiliar, I’m surprised I managed to make the drive back to Toronto without getting lost. I was clearly suffering from some type of brain damage. It would take two games for me to have a complete inventory of all the injuries I had sustained in the bedroom that Sunday night. By the time I was in my seat for the Kootenay vs. Saint John game on Tuesday evening, I had determined that I had wounds on my calves, shins, knees, thighs, butt, hips, back, shoulders, arms, chest, ribs, and even the side of my face! I even discovered a new neck bruise while I was at the game! Hmm… maybe I was right about goalies, after all.

The WHL vs. QMJHL game had local OHL fans completely disinterested. The tickets were priced lower, and the attendance was probably the worst of the whole tournament. This made me sad. I’ve always been more of a hockey fan as opposed to a fan with specific team loyalties. So, to me, the game featuring teams from the two other leagues in the CHL was a must-see. Plus, what girl would want to miss a showdown between some Western Canadian boys and some French-Canadian boys!? Even though the Sea Dogs had already clinched a spot in the finals, the game turned out to be pretty fantastic, as the Ice came out of nowhere to disrupt the whole tournament, and force a tie breaker two days later.

And, boy, am I glad they did. That Thursday the Owen Sound Attack had come to the end of the line. They failed to ride the coattails of their OHL victory to Memorial Cup success. Since Coach DILF Dave Cameron was off for the night, he was free to roam the Hershey Centre grounds where I was ready to prey on him. It was another sunny day, fortunately for me, as this meant that Mr. Man was working his spring line in a fancy white polo shirt that he had tucked into a crisp pair of khakis, which he really knew how to fill out, if you want my opinion. I had to make it my business to have a proper run in with him. So, as the man headed back towards the building from the sanctity of the VIP parking lot, I decided to venture out of the building at the same time that he was re-entering.

I must have been about 25 feet away from the door as he was about to pass through it. His manly swagger was obviously too quick for my timid, yet giddy, school girl skip, so our timing was way off. Being the true man that he is, he saw me coming even though I was a socially acceptable distance for him to not feel obligated to hold the door for me. Instead Thedavecameron flexed his mighty pythons (BOTH of them), and waited patiently for me to pass through the threshold that he had thoughtfully secured for me.

“Thank you very much,” I squealed, as I tried with all my might to maintain eye contact, and not drop my gaze to his very tempting man-hooter region. “Ooooohhhh, you’re very welcome,” he said with what I refuse to interpret as anything less than a come hither smirk.

Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!

I have loved this man since I was sixteen years old. And not a silly puck bunnyish crush either. Love. Real Love. *Swoon* That moment in the doorway made my entire life! I couldn’t have possibly thought of a better way to end my romantic Memorial Cup encounters, so I decided to behave myself, and not try to top it. This decision is the only thing that saved Phoenix Coyotes GM Don Maloney in the Final that Sunday night. He’s probably my most favouritest GM of all time these days. I really love some of his more recent decisions! I did leave the poor man alone, but I did linger a while to perform my informal bodyguard duties. The Final was sold out, so I was worried he might feel claustrophobic being around so many fans and all! I was ready to catch him at the first sign of a fainting spell. You’re welcome.

The last game of the Memorial Cup was a heartbreaking one for the good people of Mississauga. It was no surprise to anyone that the Sea Dogs had this tournament in the bag, but while the Majors success deserves to be celebrated, it is still devastating to think that they made it all the way to the final game and came away with nothing to show for it – not a Memorial Cup ring, and not even the J. Ross Robertson Cup. Sometimes life isn’t fair, I guess.

Disappointment wasn’t the only emotion running high at the Hershey Centre that night, awkwardness was also a key player. Since there was a game almost every single day since the tournament began, you can imagine how many run ins I had with my gentleman caller throughout the week. I’m not usually awkward about this stuff, but trying to carry on as usual is kind of difficult when all these unanswered questions are swirling through your mind every time you see each other, and you don’t know whether you should feel proud of yourself, or totally embarrassed. What had I done? What had been done to me? How hard did I have to be spanked in order to have a handprint permanently tattooed on my behind a week and counting later? And most of all, is there video footage of this floating around the Internet as we speak? Truthfully, I’m too scared to Google myself to find out! Just know that whatever is out there, it’s probably not my A-game, so cut a woman some slack!

The rain and thunderstorms had thankfully let up for the junior hockey fans, as they gradually grew tired of watching the Sea Dogs celebrate their victory on the ice, and began to pour out of Hershey Centre and into the congestion of cars driving away from another hockey season, and towards a, hopefully, relaxing offseason. However, for the Psycho of all hockey fans, the last game of my 2010-11 hockey misadventure was anticlimactic. I’m not sure what I was looking for this hockey season, but whatever void I was looking to fill, remains a gaping hole of dissatisfaction. Going into the offseason, my future in hockey seems strangely uncertain. While I can’t be sure where the next few months will take me, one thing I know for sure is that now I’m more motivated than ever to test out my theories about goalies. My interest has now been piqued… Be afraid, goaltenders everywhere! Oh baby!

Top Photo: The only picture I have from the day I had my *moment* with Coach DILF!

Bottom Photo: The Saint John Sea Dogs anxiously await the presentation of the Memorial Cup. A lot more speeches when the Mem Cup is being presented than when the Robertson Cup is!

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Saturday, May 28th, 2011

OHL Final: The series we all thought wouldn’t matter.

Mississauga & Owen Sound, ON After the Niagara IceDogs’ heartbreaking loss to the St. Michael’s Majors in the Eastern Conference Finals, I required a vacation to sunny Tampa, Florida to recover from my devastation. The sun did more than just bronze my royally pale skin with an awkward tan, it illuminated the truth, and made me see things in a whole new light. For some strange reason, I started to feel quite bitter towards Niagara. Did we get divorced? Clearly, I was invested somehow. It could just be the pseudocancermones, as I call them, making me crazy again, though, but for some reason I was ready to fly back to Canada and re-join the team I grew up with, the Majors, in their quest for the Memorial Cup, with absolutely no love loss to the absence of the IceDogs. And I did just that.

I missed the first four games of the OHL Championship due to my boondoggle in the Sunshine State. I feel kind of guilty about this now, but I was secretly hoping for the Majors to lose at first, so the series would go to six games, and I could make the Harry Lumley Bayshore Centre my 51st hockey rink visited. In hindsight, I realize the error of my ways. We really should be careful what we wish for.

My trip to cottage country for Game 6 was a bit of a hassle. I had only been to nine other active OHL arenas, and I had foolishly assumed that I had already seen the best of the best. Little did I know that each and every member of the small town of 22K was a ravenous Attack hockey fan. Everywhere you looked both homemade and store bought Attack signs graced window panes, door frames, mailboxes, and pretty much everything you could think of. The game, a do or die situation for Owen Sound, was completely sold out, and the standing room had been sold several rows deep. The bad news was that you weren’t able to secure a standing room ticket by phone, so around 10AM on game day, I loaded up Lynxie with all the essentials, and hauled ass up Highway 10 with hair curlers in effect – quiet, please!

It was around 1PM when I had, THANKFULLY, secured a ticket to the final tilt to be played in Owen Sound for the 2010-11 OHL season. The bad news was that I had several hours to kill before the gates would even open. I divided my time off-roading to a couple near death experiences, and loitering at the quote/unquote “mall,” where I had several run ins with Attack goalie, Michael Zador, which made me question how serious these boys actually were about forcing a Game 7 to keep their Robertson Cup dreams alive. You see, since the Majors were the host of the 2011 Memorial Cup this season, their OHL Final series against the Attack really didn’t matter in the long run, as both teams were Mem Cup bound regardless of who was fortunate enough to be named OHL Champion.

As I would learn at the very loud and cramped arena that night, most Owen Sounders were still in shock over the season their team was having. At the start of the season, they couldn’t imagine placing in first in the Western Conference, or eliminating the very playoff experienced Windsor Spitfires, and lasting even six games versus DILF-O-RAMA Dave Cameron’s unstoppable Majors in the Final. Or at least that’s what they said. I know all of this because, in my section, at least, all the men had decided that I was a lot more interesting than the actual game. I had a line-up of marriage proposals that night, and since they all made me hug them whenever the Attack scored a goal, I had a lot of love to give out as well. The hockey gods had smiled on Owen Sound once more, and the series headed back to the Greater Toronto Area for one more game.

I knew things wouldn’t be good for the Majors that final Sunday afternoon. I’m a bit superstitious, if you haven’t noticed, and, well, the only other time I saw the J. Ross Robertson Cup hoisted was at Hershey Centre seven years earlier. That year the home team, the, then, Mississauga IceDogs, fell to the stallion-esque Guelph Storm in a four game sweep, if my memory serves me right. Future NHLers Daniel Paille, Ryan Callahan, Kevin Klein, Cam Janssen, and Ryan Parent skated the ice at Hershey Center with their make out buddy, J. Ross, held proudly overhead. Unfortunately, their success didn’t translate into a Mem Cup victory, as they were completely obliterated in Kelowna that spring. As I seemed to be having a season of history repeating itself, I feared that history was going to repeat itself at 5500 Rose Cherry Place, and the home team would once again fall in front of a heartbroken local crowd. And so it was written…

In a shocking finale to end the OHL season, the favoured Mississauga St. Michael’s Majors lost the OHL title everyone just assumed was theirs for the taking, but calling the sell-out crowd a “home crowd” doesn’t quite cut it. I had arrived early for Game 7, and yet I still managed to find myself standing for the entire game, but that’s another story. As I sat in the parking lot listening to some music, and waiting for some Divine sign to tell when to enter the facility, I saw car loads, and truck loads, and bus loads of fans pull up to the Mississauga venue in a sea of red and black. It must have been the only game of the playoffs that sold out at Hershey Centre this year, and it was the proud and dedicated Owen Sound hockey fans that had made the 2 hour drive (each way) to support their boys. They dubbed Hershey Centre, “Bayshore South” that afternoon, and I would have to say that was a pretty accurate assessment of the atmosphere in the building.

After the sting of the loss vanquished, it’s no doubt that the Majors found solace in knowing that they would soon get a shot at redemption in the Memorial Cup the following week. With only one day left until the Memorial Cup is hoisted, the Majors are less than 24 hours away from getting the last laugh, as they are to face the deadly Saint John Sea Dogs of the QMJHL in the Final tomorrow night! I know I’ll be wearing my lucky blue thong loud and proud tomorrow. I’m really pulling for these boys! So, until tomorrow, keep that stick on the ice, and such.


Top Photo: Fuck, I hate sitting in the end zone!

Bottom Photo: Game 5 with Hilary in our first game day pic since Phoenix at Pittsburgh in 09-10! Post Hershey Centre poutine a.k.a. the next best poutine to Scotiabank Place in Ottawa!!

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Thursday, February 17th, 2011

Before the puck dropped my virginity was already spinning in its grave… (Storm@Rangers)

Kitchener, ON I’m reminded of a book I once read (make that skimmed) for an anthropology course at U of T. It was entitled, Wisdom Sits in Places, and for me wisdom sits at the Kitchener Memorial Auditorium. Before my Psycho NHL adventures began, the Kitchener Rangers ran my life. Although the Leafs had the keys to my heart, I grew frustrated by the fact that my Leafs games were few and far between. I eventually turned to the Toronto St. Michael’s Majors (but that’s another scandal), which eventually led me to my hometown Kitchener Rangers of the Ontario Hockey League.

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).

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Tuesday, November 24th, 2009

Top 10 Tuesday: Replay Edition.

I heard about this reality show called, Replay, which brings together the members of former sports teams to play a rematch of the pinnacle games of their careers. It’s a really cool idea for a show! I have often thought about the defining moments in my career as a hockey addict, and I can’t help but wonder what my life might have been like had certain things not happened, or had I not gone to certain games. So, for this week’s edition of Top 10 Tuesday, we look at the games/moments that eventually led to the birth of Psycho Lady Hockey, and my hockey adventures around the world. Whether you are thankful things happened the way they did, or you’re a hater, and wish I had stayed home on these days is up to you. Get ready! You are about to embark upon a lengthy walk down memory lane. Enjoy! Top Photo: My first REAL Coyotes game. Look you can see my shirt! Haha!

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.

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