It's just a game...but one I LOVE

It's been told to me (and repeated myself over and over)--"It's just a game". But it still hurts when the team I rooted for didn't play like I wanted them to last night. And while it is just a sport, hockey is something in the last 5 years I've come to LOVE. Each year, I've poured more emotion into the season. And each year, the end comes down to "there's always next year". The moments of joy in a game when the battles were won and the "W" comes at the end of a 60 or more minute game are fulfilling. The well fought losses are frustrating but understood. And those games where you wonder what happened to a team that is so talented, fast, strong and capable? Those games I want to cry or hit something or both. Those games I threaten to find a different team to give my loyalty. Those games I wonder why I even care about 23 men and 1 mission.

But I do. Hockey fascinates me. The smell of the rink, the sounds of the blades on ice, bodies hit against the boards, the crowd yelling and chanting. Fights, penalties, the sin bin. The Zamboni! Having a common hate with other fans--the officials or Chris Pronger. The stories of players who worked so hard to get to their moments of glory. A player who has continued to train intensely despite an injury that cost him a season of playing a game he loves far more than I do. Stories of comebacks and overcoming obstacles. Names that are entertaining to say--Cheechoo, Kopitar, Wisniewski, Ovechkin, Khabibulin. The fact that nifty is a cool word to say--deke even cooler. Singing the Canadian and American anthems with an arena full of people. Spoiled by announcers who seem to bring peace to my soul when I turn on a broadcast. Yes, I care. And without any other words to describe it--I feel a alive in my passion for the game. As my hometown team the Sharks are my boys. Jumbo Joe, Patty, Pickles, JR, Torrey...my sports heroes. Sharks themselves have become an animal that I am fascinated with, inspiring a new tattoo soon to come.

Hockey has become a context, an analogy for life. Maybe that's why I take a loss like last night so personally. But they didn't lose to upset me. They don't know who I am. Just another fan of an intense sport.

Sadly, against my usual rants about sticking with my team until the end of the game, my friends and I watched some clips from Inside the Actor's Studio instead of the last 7 minutes. Watching Liza Minelli and Cameron Diaz use their favorite swear words hit the spot--as Anaheim scored another goal. Some time at the gym, averting my eyes from any sports channels, also helped.

Once again a revelation hit. Being passionate about something (or someone) also means there is a risk of disappointment. I could stop caring so the next let down wouldn't hurt so much. Become a fair weather fan. But where would the flip side of excitement come. I've been numb to experiencing things my life too long because of fear of failure and disappointment. So at 12 AM last night, sweating on the elliptical machine I decided that these nights of sadness and frustration were worth it. Whether it's a hockey game or own goals in my life, I'll take the risk of believing with the potential and likelihood of future disappointments. Because when the Cup is won or what I want most finally comes into play, I want every scar, drop of sweat, and every emotion to count.

Today however I'll process. A little quiet. A little sad. A very small hope that the overwhelming disappointment those guys must feel themselves wouldn't prevent the last efforts they have within them. And hope that in my own life, while mourning over disappointments that may/will come, I'll still brush it off and keep trying. Keep waiting for that SOMEDAY. Because sometimes this is really about that.