For this project, we were told to write a narrative essay about something that has impacted who we are today.
Evolution of a Die Hard Hockey Fan
By Milly Siegel
If you had told me five years ago that today I would be a die-hard sports fan, I would definitely not have believed you. If you had added that I would be a die-hard fan of a sport where it’s acceptable to punch people in the face, I would have said (in a somewhat cheeky manner) that I was not a violent person, and there is no chance I would like it. I would have proceeded to walk away from the conversation if the individual I was conversing with particularly bored me.
I was always, and still am, a pretty mellow kid. I’ve never been a big screamer when things don’t go my way, and if you were to ask my parents, I’m sure they would tell you that I rarely threw tantrums. My extracurricular sport was (and still is) figure skating, which does not require yelling, running and overall exuberance that you find in sports such as soccer and baseball.
When I was thirteen years old, however, this whole notion of me hating professional sports changed. Drastically. And in my opinion, for the better. Ice hockey - Specifically the San Jose Sharks - is now not just fun for me to watch, but instead, has become a lifestyle (much to my mother’s chagrin). During the season, I watch every game on TV, and if I don’t, it’s because I am one of the 17,562 people in that night’s sell-out crowd.
When I was thirteen-years-old, however, this whole notion of me hating professional sports changed. Drastically. And in my opinion, for the better. Ice hockey is now not just fun for me to watch, but has become a lifestyle (much to my mother’s chagrin). During the season, I watch ever Sharks game on TV, and if I don’t, it’s because I am one of the 17,562 people in that night’s sell out crowd.
It all started in November of 2006. I was pretty happy go lucky; 7th grade was treating me well. One day, my dad told me that in two weeks, he, my brother, my step mom, and my step sister would be attending a San Jose Sharks game, and that I would have to find someone to have an overnight with.
A week went by, and, not being very on top of things, I still hadn’t asked anyone about that overnight. This meant that I was pretty neutral when my dad told me that Sarah (my step sister) could no longer go, and I was the person who was going to be taking her ticket. We arrived in San Jose, and I quickly concluded that all these ridiculous fans wearing teal jerseys probably needed to get a life, though secretly, I envied them. They had a passion that they were dedicated to, and I had always wished for something like that. Their enthusiasm did make me slightly more excited for what I was about to see.
Having never watched a game of hockey before in my life, I didn’t realize how fast it was. I had also never considered that many of the basic elements I use in my skating are used by hockey players too. And they can do a front t-stop with their left in front, which is very credible. They also used elements that we don’t use in figure skating: mainly, hip checks and fighting.
Have you ever been in a situation where you’re with a group of people, and everyone there knows a secret handshake except for you? This was how I felt when I witnessed my first power play. The Jaws music started. The crowd roared, and as I looked around I saw seventeen thousand people making a chomping motion with their arms. I found this hilarious. When the wave started, I of course had to join in, and somewhat angrily told my family that their lack of participation was disappointing.
The next thing that happened caused such a rush of adrenaline for me that I didn’t even know what had hit me. The players were passing the puck back and forth in the offensive zone, and then a slap shot from center Patrick Marleau rang off the cross bar and went into the net. I had never heard anything as loud as the cheers that erupted from the crowd, and, to my surprise, myself. I jumped up and screamed along with everyone else in the crowd.
Over a matter of minutes, I had gone from unenthusiastic Sharks game goer to somewhat engaged game goer, to raging fan. That alarmed many, mainly my father, who had probably never seen me so enthusiastic about anything in my life. It amazed him that innocent me could be converted into a passionate fan of such a violent sport. To be honest, it amazed me too.
Though I did not pay as much attention for the rest of that season or the beginning of the next one, after attending a game in November, I decided that if I was going to become as dedicated as I wanted to be, I would most definitely need a favorite player. Without realizing it, I chose the individual who scored the first goal I had ever witnessed: Patrick Marleau. After expressing this to my whole family, I received a Sharks jersey and tickets to four games for Christmas. At that point, I didn't think I had ever received a greater present (although I'm sure seven-year-old me would argue that the American Girl Doll I got was way better).
After several more years of Sharks games and statistic learning, I know more than most people would expect me to about hockey. I still love hearing my dad tell people that don't know me as well that I'm the craziest fan he knows. My sister often calls me creepy for the amount of hockey information I can retain (I would do a lot better in math class if I remembered those concepts as well as I remembered hockey stats), but I personally take pride in my knowledge, and the fact that I have turned her, my brother, and several friends into knowledgeable fans as well.
That is how a mild-mannered girl like myself, who claimed to hate all sports, evolved into such a vivacious fan of one of professional sports most violent games.
