Lord Stanley's Glory

I'm not much of a hockey fan.  Not because I do not enjoy the sport, I just did not grow up around it.  Born and raised in the Pacific Northwest, hockey was about as foreign to me upon my arrival in Boston as winning basketball games is in Minnesota.  People skate around with sticks and hit a little puck that is impossible to follow.  What else was there to this game?

Now, my knowledge of the sport has grown somewhat, but I still fail to understand the nuances of the game.  Line changes confuse me.  I couldn't break down an offensive attack with Wayne Gretzky tutoring me.  I can name about fifteen players in the entire NHL, about half of which play for the Boston Bruins.  Let's face it: I'm still a hockey amateur.

But at this point in my life, I have watched enough sports to tell when players really want to win a championship.  I do not question the desire of the Miami Heat or the Dallas Mavericks as they compete for the Larry O'Brian trophy.  They worked their entire careers for these moments, breathing, eating, sleeping, and simply living basketball.  Fans can say the same about the MLB and the NFL with their respective championships.  These athletes dedicate their lives to reach the pinnacle of their profession.

Except the NHL takes this passion and desire to a whole new level.  Watching game two of the Stanley Cup Finals last night, the effort that each team exerted and the passion in their eyes they demonstrated--each extra skate, hard hit and dive to block the puck--proved to me that NHL players want to win the Stanley Cup more than any other sport.

Witnessing Vancouver celebrate after they scored eleven seconds into overtime, the Canucks looked like a group of high school cheerleaders who just won the state championship: laughing, smiling, slapping high fives, one gigantic mob jumping up and down.  Their bliss was evident as each man appeared as though he was one step closer to completing his ultimate life goal.  Similarly, as Boston skated off the ice at the same time, their dejection seemed to imply a life failure.  Down two games in the biggest moment of their life, each man sprinted off the ice to hide the shame of losing.

This contrasting dichotomy swirls to create an atmosphere unmatched by the other major American sports.  When I watch the NBA Finals, when a team loses they appear upset.  Heads lowered, short answers with interviewers, sunken eyes..  When I watched the Stanley Cup Finals, when a team loses they seem to feel like an utter failure.  A disgrace to their teammates, their organization and their city.  The players want to capture and harness all of the glory that comes with the Stanley Cup.  It is the same reason that each team member is granted a day with the Stanley Cup, just for himself.  That trophy means more to them than anything else in the world.

I could never turn my back on the NBA.  But the passion and zeal that hockey players have for their sport makes me reconsider how I prioritize my sports interests.  Watching two teams engage in a life-or-death mental and physical struggle for the ultimate prize piques even my uneducated hockey mind.  Lord Stanley may just have another follower.