Shooting Stars

“Good evening, welcome to the United Center. May I check your bags?” the security guard asked me. I nodded my head and opened my bags. He peeked in and saw nothing awry, so he let me go through to the ticket taker. He scanned my ticket and I went to join my family ahead of me. My aunt and uncle were signing up to win some random prize and the woman who was in charge of getting people to sign up, looked at me and asked, “Are you 21 years old?” I shook my head and gave her a slight smile. I awaited my aunt and uncle’s finish before the six of us took off towards our seats on the third level, below the press boxes.
We stopped to take pictures with the cardboard version of the Stanley Cup and then proceeded to our upper level seats.
I was stopped momentarily by the sight of the greatest hockey jersey I’d ever seen. It was a half red, half white Tony Esposito jersey. It had to be the coolest jersey on the planet. I was so jealous of the woman wearing it. And I DIDN’T EVEN KNOW HER!
“Excuse me, Miss. I’m sorry to bother you, but you look like the perfect girl.”
“For what?” I replied.
“You see, I got meet the team passes for my daughter’s birthday slash Christmas present. Then she canceled on me and I really don’t need to meet the team for the fifth time. So I guess what I’m asking is if you would like six meet the Chicago Blackhawks tickets for after the game?”
“Are you serious? You are just giving me meet the player passes? Why?”
“I am stuck with them and I don’t want them to go to utter waste. Just take them. Thank you!” and the man rushed away. I didn’t even get to thank him for the tickets. I looked at the passes in my hands. I held some of the most valuable tickets in my hands. And I had lost sight of my family. Great! This is only my second time in the UC and I’m separated from everyone, great, just great! At least I have these.

I finally managed to catch up to my family when they were nearing our seats. I was generally surprised when I got to our seats. They weren’t that bad for nosebleeds on the third level. And with my mom’s brand new camera, I would be able to get perfect shots from there. Boy, did I love extended camera lenses.
“Sophie, what is that in your hands?” my aunt asked, referring to the tickets.
“Some random guy came up to me and handed me meet the player passes. There’s enough here for all of us.”
“Are you sure they are real?” my brother asked next.
“He said they were supposed to be a gift for someone, but they backed out and he didn’t need them anymore, or something. So I would assume they are good tickets.”
“Okay! Why don’t you kids go walk around,” and so we did. The four of us “kids” walked around the entire UC third level. We stopped to make a sign, courtesy of Sharpie, and then made our way back to our seats. We awaited pregame warm up and then the National Anthem. You could say that my brother and I were pretty ecstatic when the game finally got under way. It was only my second Hawks game, the only difference being, I now knew what was going on and who the players were.
“Come on Ref, let them fight!” I shouted down to the ice where they surely couldn’t hear me. But they stopped Tazer from fighting with some random guy on the other team. I was mighty disappointed. But my disappointment was stopped when they let Jake Dowell get into a great fist fight. My brother managed to get the whole thing on video while I got it on sport picture for every other move. Jake ended up losing, but hey, what’s a guy to do in a fist fight other than win or lose?
The game ended not so long after that and I read the meet the player’s tickets for about the hundredth time before we stood to leave. We made it down the main level and I then directed my family towards the entrance where we were supposed to go. There wasn’t a line, but a security guard, when we got to the supposed spot.
“Do you have Meet the Player tickets?” the guard asked us. I handed him over the tickets. He scanned them and then asked to look inside my camera bag and purse. I allowed him. This was a more thorough search then the one to get into the UC, but I wasn’t complaining. He then escorted us onto the ice and to the Blackhawks Bench. We were then told to follow one of the assistant coaches, Mike Kitchen, to where we could wait for the players to redress and shower. The room was quaint and soon after, a group of three more people entered. Mike Kitchen left the nine of us to ourselves and went to make sure we were going to get some players in there soon.