speaking of hockey...

The NHL season has begun again, and for our household, that means another season of the Center Ice package so I can watch my beloved Thrashers games (which, I must point out, have been going quite well off the bat). Overboard puts up with my increasing hockey obsession, and "allows" me to get the package and watch the Thrashers games. Now, when it comes to other teams, well, that becomes a matter of debate. Try as I may to explain why I'd like to watch Penguins or Capitals games to see Crosby, Malkin, and Ovechkin, she isn't really having it. Although, due to my telling her hockey minutiae whether she wants to hear it or not, she actually knows (to a degree) who those guys are.

My beautiful bride looked at me the other night and announced that she remembers when I just kind of liked hockey. Of course, once I started playing ice hockey, my like turned to love, and my love sometimes borders on necessitation of a restraining order. In my defense, I didn't buy the Thrashers jammies for Kenny, they were a gift from his cousin (I'm just sayin').

I will admit that my interest in the sport (which was pretty strong to begin with) has grown by leaps and bounds since I first strapped on a pair of skates a few years back. However, I stand by my passion and see no reason or need to let up just yet. I was at the very first Thrashers game back in 1999, and I'd like to be at the game when they raise the Stanley Cup over their heads (which, hopefully, won't be that long in coming).

Some people are obsessive about football (American, European or even Canadian), or baseball, or basketball, or whatever. I love hockey. I'm a member of a niche group of people who don't live in the Great White North who love the game and have the fun responsibility of defending that love to anyone and everyone else. I'm one of those people who moans in despair every time I open my new Sports Illustrated to realize that there is no hockey coverage, but there is a three page spread on Texas Hold 'em poker or the PBA pro bowling tour. Sigh.

I definitely want to expose Kenny to the game, and maybe he'll even want to play, but I won't force it on him. Like I tell my friends, you know, he may not want to play hockey. He may want to play golf. Which is fine, so long as he doesn't truly torture himself and become the one hockey thing I just can't bear to see him become: a Blackhawks fan. The horror...