It’s the smallest of anecdotes, but that night I raised my Irish stout to a recurring theme and the promise of my own stout truism. I am meant to be here, and I’ve been meant to be in every place and every situation that brought me here.
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Offseason does strange things to a fan. So in thinking of how to approach "dating hockey," I went the obvious route of traditional, Elizabethan era courtship: the dating app.
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My first commitment is to myself. Everyday, I wake up deciding that I want to be happy. That’s it. That’s my bottom line.
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"This," I thought to myself, "this exists."
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Passion is free and without it, you're broke.
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"Would your children be proud?" John Scott knew that they would,
and when he stepped to the ice, seventeen thousand fans stood.
You’re here because you may want a fix equal parts big hockey and the GrooGrux King.
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If we’re going to unify gender groups in our narrative, and treat everybody alike, how can we do that while still celebrating the basic, inherent differences we possess?
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The dust hasn't settled, and having learned from speaking with a few victims, it likely won't settle anytime soon. But I'm still going to write about it.
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Pin drops on a digital map do not automatically denote the richness of your experiences, or the depth of your journey.
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And so we owe it to ourselves, and to everyone brave enough to share themselves with the world, to do "acceptance" right.
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It's safe to say his work touches me in ways most work won't. So it's to no one's surprise that I live by something he said.
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Women love hockey, too.
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It's the only flame I know that can rest on ice.
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We will always be the Blueshirt Faithful and we could not be more proud than we are now.
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So in recognizing that there is something guiding us, what significance do soul mates hold? Who the hell are they and where can I find mine at my quickest convenience?
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