MONTREAL, QC. — We’re going to the hockey game!
No sooner had the words escaped my lips, my daughter was scrambling to get her jacket on.
“We have to leave mom!” she insisted .
This was my daughter’s first Habs game. A birthday present, since Little Miss is turning 10 on February 2.
The Buffalo Sabres are in town. A team that is hungry. They are fighting for a playoff spot as are our beloved boys in the Blue, Blanc Rouge. This game should be a good one!
It’s 6:00 pm., doors open and the crowd excitedly shuffles in through the main doors.
Game night at the Bell Centre. Electric.
We have an hour and half before puck drop and I want her to absorb as much as possible. First stop, the Habs Zone. We desperately needed to purchase a P.K. Subban t-shirt.
“Can’t see the game without wearing his number, Mom. It just doesn’t feel right,” she declared.
Second stop, food. Several moments later, wallet slightly lighter, she is happily devouring her pizza and fries.
Time to stroll the promenade. Her initial reaction is to notice that so many people are drinking beer. One guy actually is wearing his jersey backwards!
This is novel. You see, at Selena Gomez and Jonas Brother’s concerts, there is no alcohol consumption.
“So disturbing,” she proclaims.
She stops in mid-stride. Grabs my arm and says “Mom, isn’t that… It is? Isn’t it?” I turn my head and look to where she is pointing. Yup, it’s Brian Wilde.
“Mom, can we talk to him? Is that allowed?”
I muster up my courage and and we approach him.
“Oh, please don’t think we’re crazy, please don’t think we’re crazy” were the thoughts running through my mind.
We introduce ourselves and have a truly pleasant conversation.
What a great guy! So down to earth!
She was left awestruck, mind you so was Mommy!
Thank goodness he didn’t think we were crazed fans.
“I can see their faces,” she gushed, face beaming.
She spies P.K. and jumps up and says “Mom there he is! P.K! P.K! Over here!”
I, on the other hand, had my eyes glued on my warrior Gorges and my special love. Yes there it is. My admission. I adore Scott Gomez!
Sigh…
The boys skate off the ice, the lights go off. She grabs my hand. She is shaking with excitement!
The ‘CH’ starts beating at center ice and she squeals with delight.
Time for the introductions!
One by one they skate on to the ice and we cheer and clap with wild abandon!
A salute to our boys in uniform, the National Anthems sung.
Puck drop!
Pacioretty’s goal set the Bell Centre on fire. Alas, it was not for long. Although the fans were chanting, cheering there were some boos, much to my chagrin.
Everytime Scott Gomez had the puck I would scream out “Let’s get that goal, Scott” causing my section to start chanting “Gomez, Gomez, Gomez!” I think they were afraid to say anything negative!
Little Miss wanted to go ask the security guard if she could go see P.K. when he was in the penalty box. I told her that it was not allowed.
She retorted, “Why would they say no to a little girl? Look at me! I am adorable! And I am wearing a Subban shirt!”
Three goals later, the Buffalo Sabres leave Montreal with the win.
Damn that snow.
The best thing about the evening? Watching her throughout the night, dancing and clapping and cheering, screaming for Youppi to come to her, looking for the cameras so she can be on the scoreboard, and yelling out P.K.’s name every time he was on the ice.
That was the experience I wanted her to have.
And she got it.