I grew up in Hartford, Connecticut, and watching the Carolina Hurricanes, the former Hartford Whalers, win the Stanley Cup was like watching an ex-girlfriend get married.
Now, without a team, a hockey vagabond, rink rat (“You guys need fans?”), I watch with an analytical, but unbiased eye. And it sucks. I find that I no longer root for a team with the passion I once had.
Oh I came close last year. I was screaming at my TV when Parise knocked in a rebound with seconds left in the US-Canada game, and cursing like a drunken sailor when Sid the Kid (of all people) scored the winning OT goal. I watched the World Juniors, and that too was amazing. But regular nights, I flip through games, watching individual players, lines, coaches, power plays, break-outs, dump and chase and cycle, cycle, cycle. I root for playmakers; David Krejci (the cog in the Bruins offense), Nick Backstrom, and Crosby (who I dislike on principle, but admire his passing).
