By: Isabella Urbani, Sports Editor
I didn’t fall in love with hockey until I was 13. It was a couple months after the 2016 National Hockey League (NHL) draft, and the Toronto Maple Leafs number one pick, Auston Matthews, was all over my Instagram feed. Video after video showed clips from his first NHL game: his first, second, third, and fourth goal of the night. In just his first professional game, Matthews had accomplished a feat no other player had: most goals in an NHL debut. Overnight, the 19-year-old had become a sensation. And while four goals was enough to make me do my own research about the future Rocket Richard Trophy winner (for most goals in an NHL season), it wasn’t enough to convince me to tune into the team’s next game. No, it was the fact that the Maple Leafs had lost that game 5–4 in overtime, even with Matthews’ four-goal performance. How bad did the Toronto Maple Leafs have to be? I found out next game: pretty bad.
You never quite knew what version of the Maple Leafs was going to skate out on the ice. Would they play a solid 40 minutes, carve themselves a sizable lead, and then hand it over to their opponents in the third period? Or would they have the worst start imaginable, play catch-up for the remainder of the game, and barely squeak out a win? The team had no semblance of order whatsoever, and that was the best part. It was like going on a roller coaster. Except the roller coaster you thought you were going on is actually the one over there, and oh my gosh, you’re suspended upside-down in the air, and there’s no seatbelt???
I didn’t fall in love with hockey over dazzling plays. I fell in love with the theatrics of the game and its storytelling. As a fan, you’re witnessing players write a story in front of you, and it’s different every time. Each game starts out the same: three 20-minute periods. But they rarely ever unfold in the same way. This is exactly why an underdog team can beat a playoff contender, and subsequently lose their next game to the worst team in the league. That’s what the writer in me loves the most: the storylines, the arcs, and the heroics. Will a goalie stand on their head and pull out a win for a team who had no business doing so? Or will a fourth-line, low-minute player, be the one to find the back of the net when their team needs it the most?
You don’t have to understand hockey to tune into a game. You don’t have to root for a team, or care who wins. I grew up in a family full of hockey goalies, but I didn’t bother to watch games on my own until I saw the pandemonium that was, and still is, the Toronto Maple Leafs. I promise you, without any of these stakes, you’ll be just as fascinated. You’ll find yourself feeling emotionally invested. You won’t be able to shake the feeling of watching a goal go in. No matter where you’re watching the game, regardless of the fact that you can’t see the millions of people doing so alongside you, you’ll all collectively hold your breath. The puck will inch its way into the net in slow motion, and before you know it, you’ll all be standing up and screaming.
That’s the beauty of sports. I’ve never felt more exhilarated and more anxious in my entire life, and I’m already an anxious person! But there’s just something so magical about hockey that keeps pulling me in. It’s the same reason I watch it every day, why I turned it into my career, and why I can watch any game, at any level, and still enjoy it just as much as the next. For me, hockey is far more than a hobby. I’ve devoted my life to the game at this point, and I’ve still never felt tired of watching a hockey game, not even for a second. I know that while the game will continue to stay the same, there’s a whole generation of players I haven’t heard about yet, waiting to make their impact, with stories demanding to be witnessed.
