Welcome to the NHL Hillen!

What a way to kick off your NHL career, landing skates first into one of the largest Hockey rivalries there is. Other 22 year-olds may have been scared to death, but this young man had fewer butterflies than I did before last night’s game. Personally, I don’t like the rivalry. But that’s because I’m in the stands. It seems harder for the fans to deal with than the players on the ice. To them, it is their job. To the fans, it is their pride. And Pride always comes before a fall. The falling came in the concourse and in 301 where there were numerous fights requiring larger than usual security contingents to get them under control. I try to shy away from the battles, while IslanderQueen seems to relish them, insisting we stay to watch as three men were trying to be controlled by a flurry of guards in yellow and black jackets. They were having a hard time with it. We were chased from our safe distance three times before I couldn’t watch anymore.

I’ve become familiar with many of these security guards over the years. I didn’t like watching them having to protect themselves while trying to protect the rest of us. These displays of fan violence are exactly what I fear before every Islander/Ranger game. This behavior is not reserved for hockey games, it’s everywhere. But it’s what caused me to dress in black yesterday, to not show any team affiliation and be a potential target. But I also felt like it was going to be a funeral anyway. In stark contrast to my mourning clothes was the ever upbeat CJ Papa who donned Islander colors along with his classic Islander jacket. Blue shirt and a great orange tie that I might have to borrow one night next season.

The season’s last home game, last time at the glass for warm-ups with friends, last Gate 1 NYIC Meet & Greet, last night in the Blog Box for season. A night of “lasts” that made REM’s “End of the World as We Know It” run through my head on a perpetual loop. To be safe, I packed tissues, but I didn’t need them. Even with the barn filled with Ranger fans, the Islanders scoring inadequacy, and the beer dumped from 301 onto one of my fellow bloggers, the tissues never came out once. (Until I crawled into bed at 12:05 am.)

Brad Kurtzberg from InsideHockey spent his first night with the Blog Box crew, and I think I kept him from working. “Wow! You’re allowed to cheer here?” he asked me as I was applauding as the team was announced on the ice. “They never told us we couldn’t.” He seemed happy to be in a new environment, until I warned him. “Brad, I’m a little loud and a little excitable. Just be aware.”

It was fun to have him there, as it kept me from concentrating on the finality of the night. Brad showed all of us his book about the Golden Seals that took him five years to write and includes countless interviews. It was very impressive. But there was a game being played on the ice, and that was not.

Without Brendan Witt to drape on Jagr like an Albatross, he became a force that couldn’t be contained. Davison tried, but he’s no Witt and no match for a future Hall-of-famer. I watched Hillen hit the ice and was very impressed with the way the kid skates. He’s another Islander that seems a little small for the NHL (I think they take the measurements with their skates on.) because he is certainly not the 5’11” he’s listed as. I know what 5’11” looks like. That’s not it.

I had hoped Ted would have unleashed Brennan, but he kept him in reserve giving him limited ice time. I did watch him through three huge hits in a matter of about six seconds at the 10:50 mark of the third. But it was too late. Chants of “Season Over” rained down on the ice confirming what we already knew.
Earlier in the day, I had sent an email to one of my friends at the club: “Winning isn’t everything, but it would be today.” It would have been for the fans in the Blue & Orange in attendance. It would have been for the season lost to injury. But you can only do so much, and some days you just fall short.

More tomorrow. There’s plenty to say, and you know I’m never short on words, but never long on time.