February 2010 has passed into history. Hockey fever is at a four-year peak, with an all-time classic Olympic Gold Medal done and in the books. In a story book ending, Canada bested a US squad that was not supposed to get into a medal round. As “Badger Bob” Johnson used to say, “It’s a great day for hockey”.

I’ve been a hockey-ite for over 50 years, ever since I got my first hockey skates. It became an obsession, as I moved up to a pair of Bauer Black Panthers in the late 60s. I still have them in a closet, along with a fossil Sherwood helmet and a Hespeler wood stick with a straight blade. They're in a basement closet. It’s my museum.

Approaching my 59^th year on earth, I am a confirmed hockey nut; my collection of hockey paraphernalia, Devils season tickets and an email address proves it. And here’s a picture on the ice, about a year back. It was a Presidents Day weekend Saturday night skate. Here I am, in the disguise of gray beard, underneath a woolen Bowdoin College Polar Bear toque.

A Canadian friend (yes, I have friends north of the 49^th parallel) and I were just commiserating about going cold turkey after the Olympics. We both look at the return to routine NHL day-in-day-out regular season competition as a letdown. The same thing happens after the Stanley Cup playoffs. How can you enjoy normal games, after playoff intensity ends? But we always find a way.

Why am I such a hockey fan(atic)? Here are some of the excuses.

WHY I LOVE HOCKEY

My mother was a figure skater. There were skates in the house as far back as I can remember. She took me skating by the time I was three (on double runners, of course). Here in New Jersey, Essex County had a couple of places to skate. There was Cameron Pond in South Orange; South Mountain Arena was built in 1958, just about the time I was moving off the double runners. Mom continued skating until my son (as a tyke), pulled her down from behind and opened her head up, requiring stitches.

Around 1960, I inherited a pair of hand-me-down pair hockey skates while in elementary school. They did not get much use; I was more comfortable with figure skates and couldn't figure out how to stop without using the toe rake. There were fewer places to skate – the family had moved to Pittsburgh at the time. Football and baseball were the kingpins of the steelworkers. We left Iron City in 1964, just three years before the expansion Penguins arrived in town.

After entering high school in Montclair NJ (where the McMullens come from), a hockey rink was built in 1968 on a former parking lot/tennis court. It was open air (enclosed in 1972, after I left town). Out in the open, we skated in good weather. Figure skating came first and then we put together a small, informal hockey club (my senior year of high school). We sucked.

The first game against an older and established team was a thrashing. We lost by 23 - 4 or some other lopsided score. Not exactly an auspicious beginning. But I learned that I loved playing. It was the only sport that felt good to me, on so many levels. Soccer came close, but it was hockey and time on the ice that got my juices going.

In 1969, I graduated high school and headed up to Bowdoin College in Maine. It was a cold place in many ways. The snow came on October 10^th of my freshman year. Bowdoin’s mascot is the polar bear and it has a huge arctic exploration tradition. Ice and the far north are woven into the cultural fabric of the college.

Located on Casco Bay, Bowdoin is a coastal school far from ski mountains. The ice hockey program was old and well established. Nordic sports (cross country skiing) were new and flowering. Bowdoin’s hockey coach was Sid Watson (ex-Northeastern U and Pittsburgh Steeler, go figure, but the man put together championship after championship team). It was 1969, at the zenith of Bobby Orr and company.

Not only was the entire region hockey mad, but the college's main sport was, you guessed it, hockey. Bowdoin was a small place, with teams beating the likes of U. Vermont, UNH, Clarkson - real powerhouses. It was the hockey mouse that roared. The teams were full of All Americans. They over-achieved, and won ECAC championships just short of the top tier (Harvard, BC, BU etc).

I wasn't good enough to even make JV, but intramural frat hockey was a daily routine. Hours were spent on the ice, practicing, having fun, playing, learning with JV and varsity players who were friends. Gradually my skills improved. I had always been a decent skater and just needed to learn how to use a stick, how to shoot a puck, how to, well, play the game. It was fun. It was an escape. It was relief. It was relaxation. College was incomplete without hockey.

After two years in this hockey mad environment, with the Boston Bruins winning the Coupe Stanley in 1970, my life took a turn. A job opened up in the Canadian High Arctic, at a remote weather station. I jumped at the chance and in the early summer of 1971, ventured into the Northwest Territories as a Physical Science Aide for the National Weather Service.

Then came my indoctrination as a North American, at the hands of my Canadian bosses. They were merciless. There was no hockey, because you can’t play on icebergs, and the Arctic is really a desert. But in Canada, one learns that the national religion is hockey. I developed an affinity for Montreal (which was part of the logistical supply chain). And to this day, I remain a member of the Resolute Bay Arctic Circle Club. I returned south, transformed. And then the Bruins won again, in 1972.

Part of the college experience was “storied”. There was another kid from New Jersey who played varsity. After college, he wanted medical school; at first, he found work in semi-pro hockey to make money. His experience, going from squeaky-clean ECAC college hockey to the color and showmanship of the semi-pros was eye opening. His later sister wrote a book about his story. It became the basis for Slap Shot. He even had a bit role as Ogie Oglethorpe.

After college, in 1974, I went to work in a business with a location in Pittsburgh. There were connections with the early Penguins (who had been playing there for 7 years). One employee had been a speed skater in his youth; he became friendly with Jean Pronovost. Later on, Mario Lemieux built an ice rink in the neighborhood. I always made it a point to bring the blades and go skating there in the evenings, when I was in town.

In the next 5 years or so, I kept the hobby alive with pickup teams, and ice time at 2 AM in the morning. When ice froze outside in New Jersey, ponds were available at night, since I had a day job. But my ice time gradually diminished. Marriage and family came around. I took my wife and kids skating whenever the chance arose. My wife looked at me skating, with a reaction that was pretty amazing. I like to skate. I feel comfortable on ice. It is total pleasure.

Hockey became ingrained in me over a period of years. Here in NJ, natural ice is hit or miss. So I took up roller hockey, and coached some kids in a local league. In 1996, I was coach for the “Y” Kings – with the same colors as the LA pro team. In June of that year, I attended a scientific conference in Denver. It was the week of the Stanley Cup finals and Denver was hockey heaven.

Not only did I get to a Cup game at the Pepsi Arena, I also sat next to Barry Melrose at breakfast one morning. It was the opportunity to get his autograph for the “Y” Kings team back home. The kids loved it. And our team went on to win their league championship! The trophy is still on our shelf. Some of the players went into high school hockey. All of them still love the game.

My coaching days ended when my son got into high school (and those pesky real life business pressures escalated). I still occasionally go skating at a local rink.

In the past few years, our family acquired a small place in the Poconos. In the winter, when I get up there, I go out on the pond with stick and puck. It is pure joy. The kids ask if I play hockey. I tell them, no, I just love to be out on ice. It is a love, pure and simple.

I remain a huge spectator fan too. Hockey on TV and a season subscription to the New Jersey Devils round out the hobby. When I travel, I have sometimes been able to visit other arenas. The beauty of the game, to me, is sublime.

Hockey is a great game. Along with soccer, it is a truly international sport. I think about hockey as art. The beauty of sliding gracefully on ice. The dance of bodies moving through space. The challenge and excitement of competition. The two sports, hockey and soccer, are linked.

Hockey is unique. There is speed, finesse, motion, scoring, toughness, flow and incredible change. I cannot think of another sport that comes close. The only fly in the ointment is TV. It is tough to follow hockey on TV, since the speeding puck is hard to be seen easily. HD helps.

The cure for that – attend a game and sit close to the ice. After a few of those experiences, most people come to appreciate the expression…

"Hockey Rules!"