I didn’t grow up with hockey; not one of us 5 kids played. In our house, nobody watched hockey (or any other sport for that matter). My boyfriend (now husband) did play university hockey and I supportively watched his games, except for the small fact that I couldn’t tell you what position he played.
Not one of our three children played hockey.
So how did I get to be a passionate Montreal Canadians fan? I got to thinking about this last week, as the flat screen was at the receiving end of my screaming. It was one of those great nights where some bozo gets a penalty in the last 5 minutes and loses the game . It wasn’t pretty and my potty mouth was showing its true colours.
But really when did this happen? Sure, my kids would watch the play-offs when the Habs earned their way up there. But we never watched the journey there.
Then, the kids left home and this empty-nester took up a new interest, Hockey and my Habs !!! And you know what? I love them, feel bad for them, get angry with them, but I love them. It is no longer “they” earn a spot in the play-offs, it is “we” play, or “we” lost. We had morphed into one entity. There is nothing better than seeing a great team power play, or more infuriating than a puck careening through 18 million dollars of golden boys. I gain 10 pounds and bite my nails to the stub during play-offs.
I finally get the passion Montreal feels for its team. It is part of the culture, it transcends the language barrier. I am a Montrealer, and whether it is a bad year or a good year, the Habs are my team!
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