Game on.

After months of waiting.




Game on.

Tonight we can turn on our televisions and watch the Blackhawks play a meaningful hockey game. And Pat Foley will be there to describe the action.

Monday night we can turn on our televisions and watch the Blackhawks play a home opener. And Pat Foley will be there to describe the action.

Life is really fucking sweet now.

There's nothing in the world like going to a game. The pre-game video presentation (I admit, I'm a sucker for that shit), the screaming during the anthem. The whistling. The chanting, LET'S GO HAWKS!

It's seeing a kid in an oversized Toews sweater, at his first game, his father pointing out the players. It's remembering when you were that kid, maybe cheering for Stan Mikita or Denis Savard.

It's seeing an ocean of red and white sweaters in the stands. Looking at the different eras through the names and numbers on the sweaters. #21, Havlat, Roenick, Larmer, Probert, Hull. I even saw a "15 Nesterenko" last season. Warmed my heart.

It's hearing some kid yell out "how much time?" before the one minute announcement, and thinking he's the first to ever do it. It's some guy in his 30s yelling it out, because he still thinks it's funny.

It's knowing that on any given game night, someone's seeing their very first hockey game. Sadly, there's also someone seeing their last.

It's the rush up the ice, everyone rising to their feet, a crisp pass or quick shot, the puck pushing out the netting in the back of the goal, the red light and foghorn, and the screaming.

It's gloves and sticks on the ice, two men squaring off to settle a score, or to get ahead on one. The players banging their sticks on the boards, the fans standing and cheering.

It's seeing players trying to be good, good players trying to be great, great players trying to be the best, and some players trying to hang on.

It's knowing that tonight's game is different from the last game. It's also different from the next one.

It's hockey.

I fucking love hockey.

Game on.