I had these grand plans to blog about the NHL Draft. Grand plans. Then I realized that I haven’t seen my boyfriend play softball in two years (yep, I’m a horrible girlfriend), and that he had a make-up game scheduled for the exact same time as the first round of the draft. I decided that it might be a good idea to attend the softball game, and get home in enough time to catch the last few picks of the night. Continue reading
Category: Hockey East (Page 10 of 10)
(Or The Skating Monk takes on Semi-Threatening Underrated Cat-Like-Animals)
When I was a Brownie Girl Scout, my troop partook in the Strasenberg Planetarium Sleepover. The name of this program pretty much explains it – roughly 50 Girl Scouts take over the planetarium for an overnight and stay up late watching every show in the planetarium’s rotation. You then get two hours of sleep in the planetarium lobby, where they then wake you up at an ungodly hour by blasting “Here Comes the Sun” and handing you a Wegmans donut and orange juice before forcing you out so they can open for a more profitable event. As you can tell, it was the highlight of the year, especially when your troop eschews camping, like mine did. (We didn’t like getting dirty. Or ticks. Or dampness.)
On a late March Friday evening, I took part in the Great Garden Sleepover Party, or as everyone else knows it as, the Hockey East Semifinals. I was there from 5:15pm – five minutes into the first semifinal game between the University of New Hampshire and Boston College – until the bitter end of the Boston University versus Vermont game – with a final whistle at 1:05am. Such an evening epitomized college hockey for me – spirited, crazy, and a true sports fans dream.
I remember this combination of dread and excitement. I remember feeling it every morning of every 49ers playoff game in January 1995, back when I eschewed the Bills to make lovey-dovey eyes every time Steve Young appeared on the television screen or sports section. (I had just turned 13 – ripe age for a celebrity mega crush!) I wanted Steve Young and the 49ers to win the Super Bowl so badly that they, and not my then sickly two month old little brother, was what I prayed for when my CCD instructor made us repeat the Apostles Creed like the Rosary was made of it. (There’s a reason it’s not.) Continue reading
I have been to the alternate universe. I have examined their dances, their music, and their immensely uncreative hockey cheers. I have been jeered at by students, adults, and senior citizens just on the way to the bathroom. I have found the only Hershey’s Ice Creamstand I have ever seen in Massachusetts, but used intense willpower not to buy an arena priced sundae. Despite all this, I have returned in pretty much one piece (unless you count the nail I broke on the drive home.
I have been to UMass Amherst to watch a hockey game.