Hello.
My name is Wilson and I am a Sens addict.
I never thought it would get so crazy, so wild. I never thought it would happen to me, but one game, one night, one moment of weakness, would change everything...
It was the year 2001. People were still trying to collect themselves from the Y2K scare. Perhaps I was too. Perhaps that's why I got on the bus that day. Who knows really? Who knows how the mind works in times of confusion, ya know, like Y2K.
My friends had gotten wind that some team from Edmonton and some team from Ottawa were going to meet head to head at the Corel Centre. I didn't want to go, but it was either the game or spending the night alone in Glengary House, leafing through pages and pages about every minutia of Canadian civil law.
So, I got on the bus.
I was feeling nervous and frightened, as I hopped on the bus and made my way through the gaunlet of Sens fans. Hoards of men and women alike with faces painted and bright red jerseys, thrusting flags and homemade posters in my face, as I breathlessly tried to find a seat.
Suddenly I felt a jolt. I assumed it was the butterflies in my stomach, desperately trying to escape, but soon realized it was actually the bus revving up and moving out.
I was on my way.
My nervousness grew when I looked out the window and saw nothing but night skies. No buildings, no lights. Nothing I recognized. Were we being driven to some secluded location, only to be left to fend for ourselves, fighting to the death to survive? Turns out I was only partially right. After some time, a lone building shone through the darkness. It was the arena.
It was intimidatingly large. I didn't know where to go, but luckily, the crowds lurched forward, carrying me forward with them. After walking through the concourse jungle, I found my seat. Quickly, I sat down and closed my eyes. I had to collect myself after my journey in darkness.
But when I opened my eyes, I saw only light.
A breathtaking sight really, one that has not and cannot be matched to this day.
The ice.
The ice lay before me, gleaming. It was singing to me, songs of battles past. It told of a ballet of strength and courage, of violence and wonder, of honour and blood.
The rest is a blurr of white noise.
I left that game, forever changed. How could I go back to a mediocre existence of a life without hockey?
How, I ask, how?
I couldn't. One game wasn't enough. One jersey, one autograph, one Alfie t-shirt; it's not enough. It's just not enough.
My name is Wilson and I am a Sens addict.
But I don't want to be cured.
I want to infect.
I want you to be a Sens addict too.
Stay tuned...
