dagies Posted March 14, 2003 Share Posted March 14, 2003 The fans are filing into the arena. The Fan is already sitting in her seat, soaking in the eerily calming, dimly lit bowl that shall fill with rabid college hockey fans in an hour. The pregame movie quietly plays at center ice while students file in, first in a rush, then a steady stream, busy like ants grabbing the last acceptable pieces of turf and holding on for dear life against interlopers. The Fan watches as a few of the boys on the team file out from the locker room, chat around the benches, tape sticks, file in and out. The astute Fan is sitting quietly, ignoring the buzz of activity around him, loving the quiet anticipation of a new game, and taking in the ambience. It feels almost like floating in a calm pool of water. There is noise, but it is swallowed in the cavern. It is relaxing. Life is good and little matters to the Fan, other than the Now. Nothing else is reality within the arena. As the student sections now fill close to capacity, the rest of the arena is almost strangely absent. This is a religious experience, frankly not unlike visiting a sleeping church during midweek. The Fan looks over the ice. It looks soft, belying the strenght it contains and will support for almost 3 hours. The Fan begins to daydream, the movie no longer holding her attention. Crushing hip checks, flying wingers, astounding saves mesh together in his imagination. The Fan can feel the coolness waft off the ice, breath upon her neck, and wing along to the person behind. The Fan begins to think about the gear, how they would like to strap it on, take a shift against the hated foe. The Fan imagines himself working the corner, holding the stick of the opponents best forward, hiding the obstruction between his body and the boards. She streaks down the ice, breaking open on the wing and taking a long breakout pass, sees the terror in the goalies frozen eyes and deftly moves the puck forehand to backhand and between the pads of the helpless stopper. "Excuse me, is that seat taken". The dream is shattered. A body pushes against the Fan's legs. Another fan is let by down the isle. It is 6PM. This is The Fan's life. And I am just leaving work in Mpls. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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