Hockey Night in Pittsburgh

Last night the Husband and I went to the Pens game, my gift to him for our tenth anniversary. I had forgotten how much I really love hockey, at least Penguins hockey. I'm one of those people who follows the home team, knows the basic rules and recognizes the big national names, but doesn't really know anything about any of the other teams (other than what I hear on ESPN in passing). I'd kind of pulled away from hockey, the strike was annoying and the possibility that the team might leave making me wary of getting too attached. But as we pulled into the parking lot, I felt the old familiar excitement. Inside my head, I start to think "hockey-hockey-hockey" and eventually it actually pops out of my mouth. "Hockey-hockey-hockey!!" I love everything about going to games. I love stadium/arena food, (the wonderful aroma of the cinnamon-roasted almonds he loves, caused the Husband to exclaim "I can smell my nuts!" before realizing that sounded wrong) I love the crowds and cheering with everyone. I love little kids with a look of wonder and I even love the corny organ music that plays when the puck stops. I had a footlong and a bacardi raz. I shouted my helpful advice "The puck is RIGHT THERE!! See! Where I'm pointing!", "That way!!! Go that way!!" and of course, "HIT HIM! Now hit him AGAIN!" The guy next to me was very obsessed with the breakaway. He said, several times about each team, "Their breakaway is terrible." There was a great group in front of us with matching hats and cow bells. The action keeps my attention (I'm talking to YOU, golf and baseball). The wave went around a few times. I jumped up and cheered, laughed at the trash talking from the people around us, booed the Filth-a-delphia Flyers. I loved it. Here's a bad picture of me with the hot dog and drink, taken on my cell because I forgot the actual camera. The Pens won, yay!