Butterflies

I live for those moments when I can feel butterflies in my stomach. I'll take the nauseous feeling any day of the week. Adrenaline rushes are fun and tears of happiness are all great, but nothing can ever compare to that feeling.

Most people get those butterflies when leaving for school. Because no matter what, going away to college is downright petrifying. If you're like me, you've had your heart set on Boston University for a long time. It's the only school you applied to and you don't like having to imagine yourself some place else. But even with all that, all the security you feel in coming here, you never know what to expect. You know that the pedestal you've built can come crashing down at any moment.

Some things change the second you step foot on Commonwealth Avenue. The food is different and West, as big as it is, never really has what you want. The dorms that once held allure you now realize are only tiny and cramped. No matter how many times Mom explained it, you still don't understand how to do laundry. To top it all off, you're given a person at random with whom you have shut up and deal with or jump through hoops to try and get away from.

Within your first week you're already trying new things. You go out and you participate in some school sanctioned activities. You join a club and only go to the first meeting. You go to some parties and probably put yourself in some situations you had only seen in the movies. Through it all you're praying what's right for you will just come along. That something will stick and you'll find your niche.

I found mine on October 2, 2010. The first time I got to experience Boston University Men's Ice Hockey first hand.





I had heard of BU Hockey before October 2. My first tour of this school was in the summer of 2009. All my tour guides, all the guest speakers, and all the students left floating around talked about hockey. About that new and noteworthy National Championship. About the duck boats, the confetti, and the parade. About this school's biggest sport. From that tour on I followed the team like a hawk. I was downloading new sports apps on my phone and reading columns from sports writers I never knew existed. Even from the Berkshires in Western MA, I tried everything I could to feel like a Terrier.

Needless to say I was eager for October 2, 2010 as soon as I learned what it meant. To this day if you go back in my iCal, I marked a full, red bar on that day which I labeled "AHHHH HOCKEY!" I spent that whole day in Agganis rehearsing with the Pep Band. I memorized Twilight in about four and a half minutes because upperclassmen informed me I had no other choice. All day I eagerly awaited my first game and all that would come with it. I was nervous about winning, yes, as the team started that season with one of the highest ranked incoming classes. But beyond that, I was nervous that this thing I had spent over a year building up was not going to be what I had hoped for.

It wasn't. It was so, so much more.

To make a long season a short story, I knew from that moment on that BU hockey was going to be the biggest influence of my college life. Even though I was only required to attend half of BU's home games, I went to almost every last one. Yes, that Merrimack game still haunts me. I tried to make it right with myself by going to an away game at Matthews Arena, the game my friends and I affectionately refer to as "Behind Da Bench." I never looked back. Sophomore year my away game count was even higher and I was given such memories as two wins at Conte Forum, "Behind Da Bench Part 2" at Harvard, and countless others. Now as I begin my time as a junior, well, I know it'll be full of even more games and more memories.

Yet when people outside of BU ask what is up with my BU Hockey obsession, I've never been able to explain it. I've been struggling for a long time trying to put into words what this team means to me. As much as I contemplate it, I can't really construct a straight answer.

Maybe it's the team. I've only been able to see three years worth of Terriers in person, but each and every one of them has given me a memory. I lived for those games in which they let Adam Kraus play or the games in which I beg some omnipresent force to throw in Moccia. Then there are the players I truly loved watching. You can say whatever you want about either of them, their style of play, and their effort but Warsofsky and Clendening will always be some of my favorites. There are also those select few Terriers that I truly take pride in for one reason or another. I wouldn't trade the ever aggressive Garrett Noonan for anything and I wouldn't change a single thing about him. Even those games he got thrown out of freshman year. Then of course there's my newest favorite to don Scarlet and White - Matt Grzelcyk. He, somehow, has made me feel more attached to this school than I ever was. I have never wanted to support someone more than I support him. All in all, no matter what, there is a reason why I have loved every last person who has skated with that jersey on.

But the players come and go, some in good terms and some in bad. So then maybe my passion comes from the fans. That group of people who manages to get me to yell random and wonderful things. Some days they make me laugh, like when they slow down chants so the North Dakotans can understand. Other days I want to punch them for doing my all-time least favorite, the dreaded "I Believe" chant. To me, they're the complete opposite of the team. I collectively know nothing about them and I don't necessarily have an individual memory tied to each one of them. But everything they do, inside the arena and out, reminds me why I love BU hockey.

But the only fans I've ever known and will ever be a part of exist in a minuscule time frame from 2010-2014. It only seems logical then that my love of BU Hockey comes from the foundation it was built on. I've never seen Jack O'Callahan play, but I'll still tell you he's my favorite player. I've never seen the Terriers win a Beanpot in person, but I'll still refer to it as the BU Invitational. Every hockey book I've read mentions BU Hockey in one way or another. While I don't want to admit it, each of those references has made me cry because of how proud I am of this historic program.

But nothing compares to seeing the team I love right before my eyes. Then, maybe, it's the arena that drives my love. I try to get to every game early just to sit there. I have no responsibilities, yet I still find myself getting there half an hour before the forty-five minutes before game time that I'm supposed to. I sit there and stare at a clean sheet of ice, not necessarily thinking about the game, but just feeling happy in that moment. Whenever we have rehearsal there, I spend warm-up time walking around all the sections mostly looking for pucks, yes, but still stopping to admire the ice from every last angle that Agganis has to offer.

Yet I know it's not Agganis. I've only ever skated in Agganis once and I've never had the pleasure of playing hockey there. Instead I play my hockey at Walter Brown Arena. Although I'm a female and I play the game at the home of the women's ice hockey team (whom I also love dearly), every little thing reminds me of the men's team. Every last stride I take I'm reminded of some random game situation. Whether I'm trying to stop a breakaway or trying (and failing) at quarterbacking, I try to imitate all those guys that wear Scarlet and White every week. Those, not NHL players, are my idols.

That brings me back to the beginning and still without answers. I cannot place my finger on it. I'll always say I love BU Hockey, but I'll never be able to tell anyone why I love BU Hockey. I may never be able to explain to my dad why he bought me a flight to North Dakota or to my mom why she bought me a flight to Denver. I may never be able to explain to my work why I need Friday and Saturday nights off with the occasional Sunday matinee every single week. I may never be able to justify the amount of money I spend on game tickets in places like Durham, New Hampshire. But I think at this point, I'll stop trying to.

Regardless of why, I know that every game I go to, at Agganis or not, I feel like I'm home again. Those people that I'm watching it with, whether it's only two people on either side of me or they're twenty rows deep, are my long lost family. For a full sixty minutes and beyond, I am mesmerized by what I love. In that space, I don't have to explain myself. We all just...know.

So even when I'm forced to grow up and get a "real" job, when I'm told to leave BU even though I have an insurmountable amount of knowledge yet to gain, when it's no longer socially acceptable for me to tell a group of teenagers that they and the institution which they attend sucks, I'm not letting go of this program. I respect it more than anything I have ever been a part of. I feel closer to it than anything I have ever been a part of. Some people will move on, will find other passions in life to pursue. But as for myself, I'll be in following around this team. Because there is one thing I can always count on from BU Hockey. No matter who is on the team, no matter where they're playing, no matter what the final outcome of the season is. I know this each and every moment of each and every last game.

Boston University Men's Ice Hockey gives me butterflies in my stomach. And I live for those moments when I can feel butterflies in my stomach.