There's something so real and dumbfounding about going to the hockey game. It's more than the electrified atmosphere surging with die-hard fans ready to have a heart attack from watching Price make the mission impossible save or Kovy scoring the hat-trick goal, it's way more than that. It's about the way the opening music slowly picks up its beat, the lights becomes less and less dim and brighten up each and every fan's world all at the same time. It's the way you are a single person among a sold-out crowd of 21, 273 people and you still feel that your presence at the game makes a difference in the grand scheme of things. You never get to feel like that unless you're at a hockey game, a Montreal Canadians game, that is.
So as always, the music starts rumbling, the lights get brighter and I, Lauren Shapiro, die-hard, devoted Montreal Canadians fan, rose up from the creaking seats to pay hommage to the 25 players who throw themselves in front of faster-than-the-speed-of-lightning pucks being launched at their faces, crash into the boards like thunder, punch each other into oblivion for my sheer enjoyment. These players are more to me than strangers, these are inviduals whose existence makes a difference in my life, in some really large way make me apart of something. That something is of course the NHL's greatest and most successful team franchise to have ever existed, the team that can proudly boast 24 Stanley Cup winnings and holds the record for the longest SC winning streak (5 years).
So why do I love going to hockey games? Because my heart beat aligns to the beat of the music, the electricity of the atmosphere runs its course through my veins, the 21, 272 other people in the arena become my closest friends and family. This is what hockey means to me: it's the greatest love affair of my life, and will always be.
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