Chasing Jason - continued.

I haven't posted anything about the rest of my evening on Tuesday the 18th, because I didn't want to say anything until I had time to digest it... and tell Big Angry Man so he knew what in heaven's name I was doing outside the house. Oddly, by speaking to him tonight, with the benefit of a good Cajun dinner and a few cocktails, it seems I'm the jerk.

I forget that while I live in a Man's World, and run in odd circles in a Man's sport, no matter how much I believe I can THINK like one, I actually can't. Certainly I basically have a male ego, because it's as big as all outdoors, but my wiring is still female, motherly, and just not conducive to my environment. So while I truly felt hurt, dissed, and basically disowned by the one person I spent six years promoting, protecting and prophesizing about, I may actually be mistaken.

It was a simple question across the dinner table. "Did you say ANYTHING to him? Did you tell him you wanted to interview him?"

I blinked hard. "No." Of course this didn't occur to me, because I have been waiting for Jason to simply acknowledge me with a nod or blink or something while he was on the ice, so he wouldn't think I am too forward or GOD FORBID frightening.

Dan just stared at me. I was worried about his response. "Well.... Maybe if you just TOLD him you wanted to INTERVIEW him he would have SAID something to you. But instead you just sat there and he had no idea what the hell you wanted. Did you THINK of that?"

Crap. The male mind at work.

Why didn't I say something? Because I know how Virgos work. They are quiet, shy and angry all the damn time. I know. I gave birth to one and she's a horror. You have to walk on eggshells 90% of the time. Ten percent, you just sit back and listen. They will not talk when they don't want to, and you can't shut them up when they are in a good mood. You just deal with them.

All that said the misadventures of the day boil down to… It's my fault I didn't get the story I wanted, or the end to the book in my head. It IS MY fault for not speaking up, confronting, being assertive and getting what I wanted. The answer to five questions to put an end to the saga and a final chapter to the book I dream of.

Instead, when confronted in the locker room hallway completely off guard by a freshly showered, well dressed Toronto Maple Leaf, ex-Islander Jason Blake, all I could do was ... gasp, pale visibly and grab onto my blog box buddies. I could have knocked him down in the narrow, very crowded hallway. But I didn't. Security was never required as is always the joke.

As completely jaded as I am in the locker room, I made the mistake of turning into a puddle at that moment. I'm a jerk. Put Chris Campoli in front of me in a gorgeous suit, or my other boy, Sean Bergenheim, wrapped in a towel and I don't even blink. Six years later, put Jason Blake within 50 feet of me without the benefit of Plexiglas boards and I'm a 12 year-old and I don't know why. Reporter? Journalist? Blogger? Nope. Stuttering, blushing moron. There ya go.

Maybe it’s because I know everything I’m doing now in this business is because of the interest I took in him way-back-when. The energy he brought to the game was the spark that lit a match that has turned into the controlled burn that is my passion for the NHL.So while he may have been waiting for me to actually SAY something, and I waiting for a form of acceptance from HIM to cross that bridge to actual conversation, we both failed. Damn it.

Thank you to my BB buddies for always being gentlemen and friends and always surrounding and protecting me, even when it’s from me.

Thank you to Chris Dey for bumping into me in the hall and being genuinely concerned because I was over burdened with hardware and teetering in heels.

So, when does the next season schedule come out? I may be dead by then. Missed opportunity, and my own fault. Maybe next time.