February 10, 2007

Happy 1000th post, SVO. Let's have cake!

Note: I have been working on this off and on since the lockout. I figure the 1000th SVO post is as a good a time as any to post it. It's fairly long, and for that, I almost apologize, except: no.

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In September 2004, when the NHL announced that there was a work stoppage, I was scared. I was scared that it would cause me to lose interest in this whole "hockey" thing, and I was scared that it would be a long season of growing disinterest, reading the non-reports out of negotiations and growing more and more disgusted with the NHL.

And it kind of did happen, that whole disgust thing. And the disinterest thing. But something else that I hadn't really counted on happened- I fell, hard and fast, for the AHL. I'd figured I'd end up alleviating some of the desires to see hockey live with some Providence games here and there, because I'd been casually dabbling in following them through Boston. I admit that I didn't put much time in seeing them or keeping track and watching prospects develop in previous years. But, y'know, they'd be there, they'd be playing, the Lowell arena was pretty close to me, and the Manchester arena was even closer, so I'd get a couple games of convenience. I was still pretty sure that the 2003-2004 NHL season was pretty stellar, and I was pretty sure that it'd take a lot to top it, and I was pretty sure that the AHL would not be able to bring enough to the table to be better.

I was wrong.

You never really expect a sport to try to break up with you. Sure, you might fall out of love with it, you might decide to see other sports; date around and see what's out there, because you're too young for that kind of commitment right now, but ultimately, you wield the power in the relationship. Sometimes, the sport knows this and works hard to keep the relationship new and fresh and other times, it gets too big for its own good and it thinks it can do just fine without you, thankyouverymuch.

On September 15th, 2004, after an 18-month courtship, the NHL tried to break up with me. It wouldn't talk to me except through the press. I just wanted answers, but it turned the cold shoulder. I obsessively read whatever I could get my hands on, looking for the sliver of hope; the indication that I meant as much to them as they meant to me. I couldn't find it.

That first month was the hardest. No camps to go to, no preseason games to go to... September felt abnormally empty. Sure, the NHL and I had only had a brief, passionate affair, but it still hurt when it left me with the idea of seeing other people.

But I wasn't going anywhere. Oh, no, I was not. I went into denial. It'd see the err of its ways and return; I had enough steely determination for all of us. This would work out. It had to. And then... it didn't. And days stretched into weeks. I had all this time, all this time that I didn't know what to do with. The AHL preseason was starting. Names I'd recognized from around the league the season before signed with their affiliates or with other teams. I counted the teams local to me: eight within driving distance. Well, I mused, if the NHL wants us to see other people, maybe I could get to liking this AHL; I could give it a second chance. I'd seen them a few times before, but nothing had ever really panned out. Sure, we got along fabulously, and it was a fun couple of dates, but it was too similar and too different, all at the same time. It left me feeling confused; I couldn't cheat on my NHL like that. But now, with its need for "space" and "cost certainty," I had the time to get to know the AHL, so I did.

We started off as friends; hanging out here and there at some games, some charity events, some practices. Slowly, we got to know each other, to understand each other's quirks. Things progressed quickly; we hung out nearly every weekend; sometimes twice on Saturdays, sometimes even on weekdays. Our relationship went from zero to love quicker then what is probably healthy or safe. No matter; a heart knows true love when it sees it.

There was a time when the AHL was insecure that the NHL might swoop in and try to win me back, so it went all out for me on Valentine's Day, throwing this huge, star-studded 2-day event for me and my friends that distracted me from the fact that the NHL changed its mind and got official with its final "Dear Heather" letter:

Dear Heather,

It's not you; it's us. By the time you get this, we'll be gone. The truth of the matter is, Heather, despite that you're giving all you can, it's not enough. We can't continue as we have been. Please understand that we're hurting you now for the betterment of our relationship; we have our sights on the long-term. We promise to come back one day, maybe, and we'll possibly be stronger and better. Please believe us when we tell you that this will be for the best. Enclosed please find a generic, scratchy tissue with which to wipe your tears.

Insincerely yours,
The NHL.

As I stood there, reading the letter, the AHL reading over my shoulder, and at the end, tears almost welled up in my eyes. The AHL whipped out a Jean-Paul Gauthier-scented Egyptian cotton handkerchief, and offered it to me. "Are you ok?" it asked with tenderness in its look. Surprising even myself, I tossed the letter aside with a pretended air of indifference. I'm fine, I said. Let's go have some fun; let's go celebrate my birthday while you get ready for the playoffs- we can have an all-too-brief weekend to cut loose before buckling down for the stretch.

The AHL showed me a good time, and together, we looked at the games remaining; at the superhuman efforts that would be required to get to the playoffs, to go and get the best piece of silver being awarded this season. There was a fear in its eyes as it looked, but a hardened resolve, too. Points were added up and tracked, and together, we figured out the playoff berths. Sixteen teams, and four rounds to decide a winner. Three of my teams started the first round; two lasted through the second round, and only one remained in the third. They didn't make the cut to the fourth round -beaten by the eventual champion- and while I wished desperately for a reversal of fortunes to unbreak my heart, I looked back on the season and burst with pride- it had been an amazing ride. Where there was once momentary sadness about it being over, there is now a fondness and an endearment. And somewhere along the way, I'd moved on from the heartbreak the NHL had caused me. I found myself impatiently anticipating the arrival of the new AHL season that September.

And then the renewed rumors about NHL CBA negotiations being close to completed broke; we were all standing on the cusp of a 2005-2006 NHL season, and that made me a little uncomfortable. If the NHL comes back, I thought, it will change my relationship with the AHL, and I haven't decided if it would be for the better. Sure, part of me cheered when I heard those reports about the CBA in principle- Boston is one of my very favorite places to be, and the city seemed so empty without hockey. We'd always had such good times there together, and it seemed wrong going there without it- but part of me was depressed: the NHL would steal away all the boys that I'd come to know and love through the AHL, and they'd change the familiar face of a league that courted me so intimately and so passionately for an entire year. Deep down, in my heart of hearts, I knew that the year the AHL and I had spent together was so special because the NHL was antisocial, but that didn't mean I wanted it to change.

I have to admit, by that point, I was a little angry with the NHL. It'd turned its back on me, it'd ignored my pleas for peace, and now, here it was, asking me to take it back? Hoping I'd come back with open arms and open wallet? That infuriated me. Boston tried to be apologetic, offering me lower ticket prices in some sections, because they understood I might be hesitant. That was enough for me to agree to see them once or twice, because I wondered how they'd been on their sabbatical; I wanted to catch up.

Curious, I went to see my ex-flame on their opening night, to see how much they'd really changed in the year since we'd last spoke via our friends at MasterCard and the Discover/Novus networks. Would things really be different?

I was disappointed in what I saw. All my ex had done was borrow ideas and pieces of successful formulas from other people, snatching other styles while struggling to find their own. They borrowed a piece from a sometimes-suitor of mine, the NFL, but where I was most disappointed was where they borrowed heavily from my current flame, the AHL. I'd understood that the NHL and the AHL, they were friends, and that sometimes, they helped each other out, but I found the NHL's adaptations of some new rules neither fun nor exciting. The same problem that I'd originally had with the AHL - things looking so similar, but feeling so extraordinarily different - cropped up again, this time, at a much higher level. The NHL's attempt to re-intrigue me struck me as someone desperately trying to hold on to their youth as it slips away, trying to prove that they're hip to your newfangled jive. They were myNHL, or so they claimed, but I'd never felt less close or less involved with them.

As I sadly watched them steal all my favorite boys away and relegate them to minimal minutes on third and fourth lines while they tried to showcase their superstars who were still struggling to adapt to the new rules, mainstream media, the only one of the mutual friends I shared with the NHL who was still talking to me, was shocked that so many of these rookies were doing so well. They'd been mere boys the last time MSM had seen them; now they were practically full-grown men. The most mature response I could muster up was a big ol' "Duh." The non-news for a year may have been the lack of NHL hockey, but the lockout taught me that there's so much more to it then just the Big Show.

As I'd feared, the NHL's return did change my relationship with the AHL, but it was neither for better or for worse. Even on the worst days, all that happens is that the NHL keeps me on my toes with transactions and trades. It keeps the relationship I have with the AHL fresh and exciting.

Yeah, sometimes I miss the stability of our first year together, but as the AHL and I charge full-speed towards the end of our third year together, I'm just happy to have it in my life. It took awhile, but the NHL and I have finally reached the place where we can be friends again. I don't see them as often as I used to, but I keep tabs on them. I also keep my distance; the pain of that heartbreak might be three years old, but it is still fresh in my mind. I'm not sure I'll ever be able to forgive them for what they did to me. They say that time heals all, but a better schedule and cheaper prices wouldn't hurt either.

by Heather | 4:12 PM | 6
filed under: 06-07 season