The Teams Are Ready

Exhibition games are fun. They get you back into the spirit of the season and give you a chance to watch people play that normally wouldn't. But nothing compares to the start of the season, to the time when it all starts to count. From the first time the freshmen see what the hype is all about and the upperclassmen electrify whatever building they're currently inhabiting. Everything's fresh and new. This weekend both of our hockey teams start playing for real.




Every year, the writers over at the Boston Hockey Blog write a hockey preview issue. I'll admit that sometimes it's better than others, but this year they wrote a few feature stories that really got me excited to once again be a Terrier. If you haven't checked out the issue yet, you can find it here, but the articles I really think you should check out are the one's on Quinn, Noonan, and especially the one on Moscatel.

There's one thing all those feature stories had in common, though. A connection to Boston University. But not the connection that they formed by playing on the team. They all had moments prior to stepping on Walter Brown or Agganis ice that made them realize that this was the one place that they wanted and needed to be.

I'm not a huge proponent of jumping into athletes' personal lives. Certain things reports ask truly piss me off and they'd piss you off too if a reporter ever asked you those questions. There's a pretty fine line between what makes a person who they are and what has nothing to do with the game. The point is that we have to take these good features when we get them. Especially that one on Jake Moscatel. Nothing in it is invasive, but it's all really telling. Someone worked his ass off to get himself in the position he is today and he has learned not to take his time spent in this school or in that rink for granted.

I get it, though. We can't all be BU babies. BU is so diverse that the likelihood of even the majority of students growing up dreaming to go to this school is almost none. It was my first and only choice, but for other people I know it was on the bottom of the list. Regardless wether or not they've changed their opinions since they came to this school, the point still remains that the personal connection was not forged far before the acceptance letter.

So, in short, no. We can't get the same level of devotion to this school let alone its athletic teams as some of the people playing on them. We are bred to take our time for granted in the stands, always worried about the next best thing or all the homework we have to schlep through over the weekend. We wear our jerseys with a sense of disconnect and go to most games for the 'free' shirt we paid for already through tuition checks. We go to say we've been, to notch it off our college wish lists and bury the memories of our time in a bank that gets completely trashed every weekend. So, in short, it is completely unrealistic of us to eat, sleep, and breathe BU Athletics.

But there are some of us that do. Every weekend.

What the hell is our allegiance to the athletic department? Absolutely nothing. We continue to splurge for our Student Pass Upgrades, jersey customizations, and red pants. We spend our night and weekends where ever our mascot does. We've endured car rides with kids we don't know, bus stations early in the morning, and airports that exist miles from our hotel rooms.

It seems stupid to some of you, I get it. But the real reason behind it is that a small contingency of us have our best memories during athletic events. And they keep getting better. We didn't necessarily have personal connections to BU before we got here, but we have them now.

Yes, it will start with the games. The senior class can recall how godly we all thought Charlie Coyle was going to be. Or the America East Championship game were we all lost our voices after we had already been to three other games that weekend. Matt Nieto's hat trick.

But then it goes a little deeper. The songs the Dog Pound created through their facebook group. Every time that you high five a stranger because something awesome happened. The superstitions you stupidly follow, knowing that it without a doubt has an effect on the final outcome of a game.

Before you know it, it has almost nothing to do with the games. The time the women's soccer team ran over and thanked us for coming to an NCAA game on a freezing cold afternoon at Nickerson. The conversations that took place late at night in a Minnesota hotel room. The friends you always have a meeting place and time with.

Then, you end up like us. Completely devoted, probably a little crazy. You sit through four years of madness just to sit and reflect on the idiotic inside jokes you swear only you know.

One time I spent the afternoon crying because I thought I had strep throat. If I did, I was not going to tell a single soul because they'd keep me home and not let me go to the men's hockey game that night. I wanted so badly to run the risk of infecting all of 118 just so I could watch a game.

One Christmas break I didn't go home until after the men's basketball game in Agganis. I told my mom I had to stay on campus until that day because a project was due, so she had to come pick me up after the game was over and drive me home that night just two days before Christmas.

Once I won Bruins tickets. Too bad the game fell the same night as the first round of Women's Beanpot. I almost didn't go but decided to because I had invited my brother to Boston before I realized the date. But then the hockey gods were on my side because I enjoyed a great game in TD Garden while the collegiate refs spent a huge chunk of time trying to repair the messed up ice in Walter Brown Arena. I made my brother drive like a maniac through the streets of Boston (sorry Mom) because I had the chance to catch the last period of the game. I'm pretty sure I didn't even say goodbye.

These are memories only specific to me and the represent only a small portion of what other people have gone through. These are our remembrances of college. When we tell our grandchildren about our glory days, these are the kinds of things we will mention. Yes, we do have other things that tie us to this school, but nothing unites us more than these memories.

But the best part of it all is that none of us expected this. We all had our thoughts about college and how it would all work out. Maybe some of it involved sporting events. But close to none of us could have predicted this. These things that happen so suddenly and randomly but mean so much for so long.

You can usually catch me yelling give the puck to Danny and ice is slippery, making jokes about Ryan Ruikka or what Sam Kurker does on a day to day basis to get penalties. And there is a core group of people that know exactly what I'm talking about and joke right back. When hockey dads who think they're hot stuff yell things at Kerrin Sperry through thin cracks in the glass, there's a chorus of voices willing to help me drown him out with cheering. Even though BU's Male Dance Team, Hulk Hands, and Hartford weekends are gone, I can name a specific handful of people that can reminisce with me. And I never thought I would.

Maybe you don't like sports, I get it. But the camaraderie you can feel at these games is what makes them special. It goes far beyond the athletes and the equipment, it runs through each and every person in the stands. And if you're one of the people that likes sports, it's time to go and check your school's out. No we don't have baseball but our women's lacrosse team can fill your spring afternoons. No we don't have any Heisman Trophy winners but we have an athlete in the MLS. There's so much hidden in the cracks that you won't find unless you just give it a try.

I'm not suggesting by any means that BU Athletics will be your only ties to this school after you graduate. There are many other things that I myself am connected to and owe a debt of gratitude to that aren't sports. All I'm saying is that you might find yourself in positions you've never dreamed of if you dive head first into some of these games. You might walk away with a story or two, or even better, a friend or two. There's really nothing to lose.