Wrapped in blankets under the weather. I should be studying for my anatomy lecture and lab exams at the start of this week. I have to have the white blood cell percentages committed to memory. Never Let Monkeys Eat Bananas. Instead I made potato dumplings and find myself binge watching romantic Christmas movies.
This past week was business. Project submission, exams, scheduling. In the midst of everything, I went to my first university sports event as a college senior.
I think I’ve become a hockey fan.
The last time I went to a hockey game, I was 8. It was New Year’s Eve and my family and I got stuck on the downtown Portland underground mass transit for two hours. We missed the hockey game, but made it for the arena’s balloon drop and ice skating
I haven’t made it out to a sports event since. Understandable, now that I think on it.
Our Ohio University Bobcats played a team from Minnesota during Sibs Weekend on campus. From the start of the game, I was hooked. Violence, fights, and pettiness on ice. As a Slytherin, I can recognize pettiness when I see it at play. #16 on the opposing team. Calling him out. He also happened to be tall, dark and handsome, so I was decidedly conflicted.
I’ve never been one for watching basketball or football. The skill involved with passing around vulcanized rubber shaped smaller than a pancake on razor thin skates, speaks to me more as an audience member, than running with a football. Just a personal note for someone like me, with a short attention span, but whose amusement is easily aroused.
I think in going to a sporting event and cheering with other people, I understand a little more on the sense of belonging, in being a fan of a sport. I can see why people do this: Going to games, watching with friends and family, following a team religiously, and feeling good when their team is victorious.
I don’t have a team identified. People have been asking. I follow the OU Bobcats since it’s my university team and I feel the greatest connection to them currently.
Do I know what all is going on? No. I can make a guess every now and again, but I don’t know the rules. Yet.
For now, I find a strange happiness with people smashing one another into the rink walls as they fight to move a puck around the rink.
Confrontation meeting the grace of ice skating. Players dealing spiteful blows and recovering from their fall without missing a moment. Respect for these players, even as my mouth is hanging open as I watch undercurrents of revenge simmer out on frozen water.
Yeah. This Parselmouth is a fan now. And she’s going to more hockey games in the future.