For those whom I know..

I've finally found myself in the place, of having to explain myself, and my actions. I'm tired of treading on a thin line, and not knowing where I stand with people, or what they really think of me. I always hate being between people, where you know the person hates the other, but it nice and doesn't let them know, "Hey, man, calm down a bit."

My mother never married my father, and I grew up thinking my step-father was my father. He was a Dallas Stars nut, plus of Gretzky and Lemieux. From the age of about 3, did I start watching hockey? Well, as much as a three year old could. I even learned how to roller skate on baby skates, in which my step-mom saved, and are residing on my step-brother's shelf.

He would take me to Stars games. Hell, we went to the Fort Worth Brahmas games. I got my first puck there, with the Brahmas logo on it.

There was no team, besides the Stars. Lemieux was great, but the Stars were all I honestly knew for a long time. The Flyers, the bullies they were, Montreal & Detroit. Those three teams weren't allowed to be mentioned in the house. Yeah, never been a Flyers fan. If my dad liked them, then maybe they were okay, and I fell in love with the Stars. I watched Hatcher raise that beautiful cup above his head. I didn't give a damn about baseball, basketball, soccer, or anything else. Yeah, I played baseball for the Pittsburgh Pirates, Brooklyn Dodgers, Minnesota Twins, and Texas Rangers (peewee leagues, of course). Softball, I played on the city team. Soccer was whatever. I played Wing or Goalie (hence my love for net minders, I’m thinking...). I even got to play little kid hockey sometimes, at the rinks during the winter times, when they would change out the wood and put ice in at our local rink. Winger & Net minder, I still played.

I did drill team for a while, but the glam and make-up was something that I didn't really care about. I loved my dad, and hockey brought us together. It is, still, to this day, the only thing we have in common.

When my dad told me to get what little stuff I had at his house, out, he took my puck, and said it wasn't mine anymore, and gave it to his new wife's son. It was some silly little puck that cost 7$, of which I had saved for a month of doing chores. It means nothing, right?

My dad remarried, and eventually stopped talking to me. He claimed that I didn't spend enough time with him. I didn't want to impose on his wife and her son. I loved both of them to death, at this point. This was around the 6th or 7th grade. I vowed to have nothing to do with him, and rid my life of hockey. Somehow, in my warped mind, I played the sport I loved, for my father hating me. I had nothing to do with it, and it became a thing of the past. It hadn't been mentioned in the house for a long time, after that.

My dad stopped talking to me, wouldn't return my calls, and basically told me to 'fuck off'. I couldn't even ask about how my grandmother was doing, since she's very sick right now. Their new baby, I had seen maybe a handful of times, in the past two years, now.

Fun fact for you. The other day, my mom, brother, and I went to Whataburger, since she got off work late didn't want to cook (fast food, don't make me puke ):), and we ran into my dad, his son, and the baby, who was about 2 years old now, roughly. He didn't even recognize me, though Thomas, the older boy, did. He didn't even know I was graduating. He didn't come to Senior Night, when kids, and their parents did the whole football field thing, even though he said he would. My own father didn't even recognize me. While they were ordering, Thomas began, while I looked at Tyler, the 2 year old, and he shook my hand (as best as babies can), and smiled. He had the same ocean blue eyes I had, when I was little. His dad watched us. I told him my name. My dad asked Tyler if he knew who I was. I told Tyler I was his friend. He smiled, and hugged me.

I didn't have the heart to tell him I was his sister.

Would it ruin him? That was the thought running through my head. This was in October, of 2010. I went home that night, and cried myself to sleep. For the next few weeks, I thought about my life, and what I wanted out of it, but I shoved the experience to the back of my head. I'd come across the occasional game, and I'd watch it. I'd go through the NHL web site, look at every player's stats, catch up with the new rosters, and re-familiarize myself with the game.

I had heard about Kane's adventures, the poor kid, and would watch BlackHawk games when they came on (we only had basic cable at this point, so whenever they played Dallas, I cheered Kaner on). I had heard about the lock-out, and Lemieux's return. I had heard about Sid the Kid before, but it didn't mean anything to me at the time. I would watch RSL games on the internet. "It's not the NHL. It's fine." Pfft, whatever. Coming back to the NHL, I miss the European leagues. It felt like a way to separate myself, yet still love the game. I became immensely attached to Avangard Omsk. God, Alexei Cherepanov was my favourite player. He made the game look like a beautiful piece of art. He had the passion, the drive, the determination... When the 08-09 season started, and the KHL came into play, I had so much faith in that team. Jagr, I had heard stuff about, and he, Avery, and the other fools you hear about, no matter where you go, didn't mean anything, at this point. No one could stop our team. Sergei Bobrovsky, that was the first year I had heard about him, ironically, though he had been played for the past two years. Guess that's what happens when you only pay attention to one team. When Alexei died, that was it for me. Out of respect for him, I couldn't stand how the KHL tried to cover their own asses. His jersey, the 08-09 away jersey, is the only jersey I have, and I love it to death. Just looking at it reminds me of watching his last game. Considering it took me a little over two years to find a jersey of his, I was immensely excited to find it, after all this time. And when I have the money for it, his home jersey is going to find a new home too.

You want to know why I have a soft spot for European players? Especially Russian players? That's why.

I never told my mom why the desktop doesn't work. When he, uh.. stopped playing that game, and I heard about what happened in the end, my computer took the worst of it. I still have the cut on my hand. I couldn't believe how they had not taken seriously the safety of their players. I guess I kind of hold Jagr semi-responsible. It's my way of coping. So much potential, gone, all because they didn't think to take care of their players.

Over Christmas break, in Iowa with my best friend, who moved up there in November, I caught a few of the hockey games, while she was with her boyfriend or whoever. Nothing else was on, and it was the only thing that put the little ones to sleep, calming them down considerably. For the latter half of December, and first half of January, hockey was probably the only thing I focused on. Who was where in the standings, Injuries, etc. I didn't want to forget again.

I was, and still am, rusty at the game. I hadn't ice skated in a long time, and it made me miss the feel of the ice. It's hard to find in Texas, but I still rollerbladed a lot. Doesn't count in my book, but whatever. But watching everything brought back how I felt about the game. I remember watching the Winter Classic, and nearly crying for a week, every time I thought of it.

Maybe it's my way of moving on. Maybe it's my way of connecting to my dad again. Who knows?

You could ask me who I liked the best 13 years ago, and I'll give you the entire Stars roster, stats, standings, scores for most of their games, trades, injuries during the season, you name it.

You could ask me who I like the best today, and I would be conflicted. The Stars, the Capitals, the BlackHawks...I wouldn't be able to choose. The Stars will always be with me. It's just what comes natural. The Blackhawks are probably what helped me the most. I was going through a shit time at that point in my life, making a lot of mistakes, and I think it honestly helped me. The Capitals... they quickly became my favourite during December. 9-streak loss or not, I found myself unable to wait for their next game.

You could go even further and ask me if I had any favourite players.

I won't lie, I despise puck bunnies. You have them everywhere, in many variants, and while away from hockey, their species still pissed me off. I hate them with a passion, and I can't stand being called one.

But right now, I feel as if people think I am one. Yes, I have players whom I love and care about to death, but not in that sense. Kari Lehtonen, the poor kid. Every time they lose, or let a puck slide by, I feel so bad for him. Every time something goes wrong, I want to cry. I know what net minders go through. You go to bed at night, knowing that these guys, who love the game so much, go to bed, cursing themselves for not trying harder. Because I empathize with goalies, I am a puck slut?

Let's go into this. Kari Lehtonen, Tuukka Rask, Semyon Varlamov, Antti Niemi, Jonathan Quick, Marc-Andre Fleury, Jose Theodore, Marty Turco, Sergei Bobrovsky (despite his Flyer business.) Even Neuvirth's growing on me. But wait. I'm definitely a puck bunny, then.

Forward. My second position. Alexander Semin is quite possibly, my favourite out of them all. I was so excited to see him back on the ice in the NHL, once he left Lada. Even Nicklas Backstrom, Evgeni Malkin, even little Nikita Filatov, all names I was familiar with. Of course I am going to focus on them, and WANT them to succeed. Silly Adam Burish of the Stars, and Brenden Morrow, even, always getting in the way of my pictures, hitting the glass when I zoom in, and pushing his hand in front of the camera when I go to take pictures, and then skating away laughing. Call me out, please. So my favourite players happen to be positions I play and can relate to. Even Tazer, Kaner, Seabsie, and Sharpie, I am proud of, and it kills me to watch them hang their heads when they lose. But liking certain players, because of that, makes me a puck bunny. I forget these things, you know.

Oh. I won't lie. I have a huge crush on Bobrovsky. He's too cute, though. :| I do realize that this is puck slut-ish, but at least I'm not going to hockey games wearing nothing, trying to woo him or anything. I respect him as a player, I think he's cute. Big whoop. You can't say there isn't at least ONE player who you think is cute. And you'd be lying, cause you've looked at Sidney Crosby. And you thought about it.

So just so you are aware. If you think I’m one, please tell me. Just so I can confirm my suspicions, and hopefully fix/explain my outlook, and position in life. Have I been the most dedicated hockey fan out there? God, no. I could slap myself for forgetting the game, and wanting nothing to do with something that makes me so happy.

Have you ever been on the mat, before you reach the ice, and breathe? Can you just smell the ice? Gay way of putting it, but there's just something in the air that reminds you of it. When you skate onto the ice, and you feel the ice through your skate, when you cross the ice? That's a feeling I miss. I wanted to play with the Stars when I was little. My mom never let me play hockey once I reached middle school (she didn't know about my dad letting me play peewee weekend hockey :P). I was watching the Flyers/Capitals rerun (hoarse at this point, from the first time they aired it), and she walked in the room. "I'm sorry I didn't let you play."

My mom never apologizes. When she first caught me watching hockey, when I came back from Iowa, she made fun of me. She didn't believe that I liked it, and she called me a slut. It doesn't feel very nice. But oh, she'll ask me when the Stars play next, and when I spew out the next date, time, location, injury update, standings, what needs to happen for them to move up, who else is playing, and what happens, if they win, to the standings, she looks away.

I'm rusty at the game. I will not lie. I have a street hockey stick behind my bedroom door. When my mom leaves for her work trips, and my brother and sister go to their friends' houses, I get it out, re-tape it with some tape my neighbor gave me, get out the bowl of tennis balls, and go down to the end of the street, where the metal warning bars are, and shoot at them. I miss a lot. My aim's getting better. I exercise. I watch what I eat. I'm trying. Will I make it to the NHL? I could only dream.

In the past 4 months, it's become more than just something you talk about and what on a television screen. It's something I want to achieve. A little kid's dream, forgotten about. Of course, what 18 year old would care about what they wanted as a child? People change, of course. They don't want the same things. Late in the game? You are damn Skippy, it's late. Just have to work harder. Watching, and even skating a little bit, used to excite me. Now, just thinking about the ice in general, gives me an adrenaline rush.

I only watched Miracle a handful of times, when my dad would pull out the DVD. I torrent-downloaded it back in December, and on Christmas day, I allowed myself to watch it. It was something I missed. I missed being around the sport, the atmosphere, the love of the game.

There are some I speak to, and I can't help but wonder what they think of me. I... just hope this clears it all up. It's become more than just liking the players, because they play hockey. It's about the inspiration they thrust upon you, and taking it in stride.

I hope this isn't considered spam. :P I apologize for my dry humour. It's been kicking my butt lately.