Seventeen years ago “Mighty Ducks” turned me into a hockey fan. That’s officially over half my life. Very odd for someone who was born and raised in Texas and a sport that was born and raised in Canada. Before Norm Green moved the Stars to Dallas about the only thing the countries of Canada and Texas had in common was a love for beer and the ability to produce a good bull rider. Now, there is absolutely no doubt Texas is THE predominant hockey state in the South and kids are growing up in Dallas loving the Stars just as much as the Cowboys, Rangers or Mavericks. There are two main reasons for its popularity: the Stars have produced Dallas’ only championship in 14 years…and Mike Modano.

Meeting Modano for the first time, 1994

Although it was pretty much apparent at the end of this season that Modano was more than likely not returning, the Stars officially sealed the deal yesterday. So it’s time to say goodbye. When it came to the growth of a sport, Modano was twice the hockey ambassador to Dallas than Gary Bettman only wished Sidney Crosby was to the United States. Our appreciation for the game, mine specifically, is about 90% thanks to him. In 17 years I’ve only had two actual legitimate favorite players, Mike Modano and Jamie Langenbrunner. The others (such as Petr Buzek) were total personal infatuations and took on a stalking life of their own. So basically, Modano will forever be King of Hockey in my world and in this neck of the woods. I call mutiny if 9 isn’t hanging from the rafters of American Airlines Center before the first puck drops next season.

Modano wants to keep playing and should he do so, seeing him in another jersey won’t be anything less than weird and heartbreaking. I want him to be happy, so a fresh start (as with Marty Turco) just might do the trick. I agree with Mike Heika, “a happy Modano would be fun to watch“.

I know this isn’t officially goodbye, as much as Mike loves Dallas, it’s more like see you later…just not on our ice in our colors. All I ask, for the love, don’t go all Favre on us, Mo.

This book might have made me like baseball a little bit more

I hate reading books where authors write to hear their own voices. Look at me I’m so smart, I know all these fancy words and amazing information, blah blah blah. I LOVE books about the history of the movie industry. But the ones that don’t read like text books and/or weren’t written by snooty d-bags are few and far between.

Despite the fact I am a frequent visitor to Deadspin, there was just something about “God Save the Fan” that made me hesitant to read it. I was afraid it was going to be like someone puked all their insane sports knowledge into one book. But I bore witness to Buzz Bissinger’s attempted rape and ass chewing of Will Leitch on Costas Now, so I knew at some point I had to read this book. And lucky for Leitch, my “God Save the Fan” was paperback and my “Men With Balls” is hardback and I was flying. I detest flying with hardbacks. See how I make decisions? Just go with what’s lighter and softer. Apparently I make all life choices as if I was picking out toilet paper.

Anyhow, my worries about “God Save the Fan” proved absolutely, positively untrue. I zoomed through this book during my trip, which is astounding since I barely have free time when in freak convention mode. I started in on it the minute I finished “The Football Fan’s Manifesto”, which actually didn’t help my hesitations because Manifesto is bloody hilarious. No one wants to go back to class after recess. But “God Save the Fan” is not only up to snuff humor wise, but also very informative in a not so in your face I’m smarter than you, dumb ass sort of way. The only chapter that threw me was about race relations in player/fan relationships, so to speak. I think I knew what he was trying to say and I THINK I agree with him, it’s just the type of chapter you read and at some point go “wait, what?” Other than that, the Fans section (in which you can find said chapter) is by far my favorite.

Backing up, I have to give Leitch mucho kudos not only for watching ESPN for 24 hours straight, cause really I can’t deal with much more than PTI after I watch one round of SportsCenter on MUTE in the morning at the gym (and the occasional viewing of NFL Live), but also for dedicating an entire chapter to his continued fanship of a Could Have Been. I talk about former NHL player Petr Buzek a LOT on here and my fanship of him falls into that category. He was a Could Have Been. But I still love him. Something tells me Leitch didn’t want to have Rick Ankiel’s babies, but still, you get the gist.

Back to the aforementioned Fans section, it holds lots of truisms. How our love for our fantasy team can outweigh that of our actual team on occasion because we are actually somewhat in control and his guide for “How Not to be a Jerk at a Baseball Game”, in my opinion, crosses the lines of all professional sporting events. Especially why it’s unfortunately not cool to cut the annoying kid behind you, etc. In addition, his stories about a small Cardinals group that formed in New York during their World Series run epitomizes a lot of the ways I love my Cowboys group here in Los Angeles. I’ve often thought about what I would do when we make it to the Super Bowl again. First and foremost, I OBVIOUSLY would try to go. But what if I don’t? Do I go home? Do I stay here? I’d like to think I would stay here, because the way Leitch and his fellow Cards fans celebrated the NLCS is the way I’ve envisioned victory would be for our little group:

Suddenly, the bar wheeled out cheap champagne…I shook up two bottles and sprayed anybody in sight, then poured a bottle over my own head. Then I grabbed two more and repeated the process.

The madness continued for about two hours…everyone in the bar was immediately bonded for life at that point, and we busted out digital cameras and Kodaks and anything to help us record what was happening. I kissed a woman I had never seen and might have been standing next to her husband, who just smiled and danced.

The night wore on, and nobody stopped screaming until 3 a.m.

P.S. Two days till THE VEGAS!

Readers, I really hate Mondays. The only things I hate worse than Mondays are the Eagles, Scott Gomez, the 101 and water chestnuts. What makes this Monday particularly atrocious: we open a movie on Friday so there’s potential for mutiny in the office, I HAVE to go grocery shopping after work and no one likes that (if you do, you’re a weirdo), I couldn’t care less about tonight’s MNF, I’m fighting off the bitterness of losing my first fantasy football game (by less than five points; McGahee – you’re on my shit list, son) and it’s so gloomy outside I should be at home under two blankets, snuggled with the pooches, watching Battlestar Gallactica, drinking hot chocolate topped with a scoach of Bailey’s. Mmm.

In a painful effort to be positive (blurgh) I do have to say that today is somewhat bearable because I managed to put makeup on before noon, am loving my new scarf from Old Navy, have a cold, cold Diet Coke on my desk (the elixir or life), the newness and lickability of the Taylor Lautner Rolling Stone photo shoot hasn’t worn off (my heart dies every time they put a football in that kid’s hands) and the interwebs are totes overloaded with Miles Austin.

Record breaking run

I feel like I’ve spent the last year and a half on the campaign trail for this young, blue-eyed wideout from Jersey (yeah, I try to forget that tidbit) to become the next President of the Dallas Cowboys Receiving Core. I don’t think ANYONE was ever listening to me or taking me seriously. Can’t really say I blame you, but it’s whatever now…cause eff you. Nikki FTW.

As an uber fan, it’s imperative to stick to your man through thick and thin. However, (here’s the segue from one version of today’s topic to the next…wait for it…) at what point does a TEAM stop sticking with a player through thick and thin? Tis a tricky predicament, that one. I hear this is a business, after all.

Last week I caught most of ESPN’S “30 on 30″ about Edmonton trading Gretzky to LA. Holy pucks the uproar that caused…the GM’s family even had to leave town. Koo koo Canadians. Not that I can blame them, that would be like America gifting the Statue of Liberty to Canada. We’d have to do more than just call shenanigans. Anyhow, in addition, several weeks ago PTI covered Phillies’ pitcher Brad Lidge’s horrific slump towards the end of the MLB regular season. Kornheiser commented that during the playoffs “you cannot put a guy out there you don’t have confidence in.” True story…perhaps?

How the Oilers and Phillies handled each of these situations was dependent upon what was best for the organizations, not what the fans wanted. In the end, Gretzky is now responsible for the explosion of hockey in Los Angeles, if not the entire Western United States and Lidge led the defending champs to a 6-5 victory over the Rockies last night to take a 2-1 lead in the NLDS. A personal example: I was destroyed when the Stars left Petr unprotected during the 1999 expansion draft and Atlanta took him. DESTROYED. But although his pro career didn’t last long afterward, he spent the majority of it in the NHL, made the All Star Team as a rookie and won a world championship. Chances are none of that would’ve happened if he’d stayed with the Stars. And I got to go to Atlanta and Calgary! Good times. Sometimes you just gotta let it play out.

Open issues

Having said that, there are some major issues on the table in Dallas. Do the Cowboys stand by Romo? Do the Stars stick with Turco? Both are huge fan favorites, but these aren’t questions that just popped up last week. These are 2-3 year-old problems. Neither of these guys have proved their worth in the playoffs. And right now neither of them are proving consistency in the regular season. I know it’s early, but again, these are long term open wounds. Not one of my mystery bruises that randomly pop up after I’ve been drinking. I don’t even know how *I* feel about what should be done. Although you’ll never see me wearing his jersey, I like Romo, he seems like a good dude. But damn. And Turco is even tougher. I have personal ties to him that make it heart-wrenching, so I kinda avoid talking about him. I really can’t imagine Marty on another team.

But at the end of the day, I’m honest enough to admit that my loyalty is to the teams over any individual player and selfish enough to say I want to see the Stanley Cup and Lombardi Trophy back in Dallas. No team should sell their souls for or buy a championship (*cough* Yankees) but changes, albeit temporarily hurtful to the fans, sometimes have to be made.

December of 1998 I wrapped up my first semester of college and took a week-long trip to see the boys in Kalamazoo. I think I even arranged to take two finals early. Remind me never to lecture anyone on organizing priorities.  BTdubs, I wish I could remember where I got the money to do all of that crap, I don’t think I even worked that year. Leftover graduation money perhaps? I need to figure it out, cause here I am 11 years and several tax brackets later and haven’t been on a real vacation since March 2004. Anyhow, I digress.

I was 18, didn’t drink (seriously), innocent as could be (no, really) and was a smitten kitten over at least four or five of the K-Wings (all Stars property). Petr you know about, the rest are still playing – two in Europe, one in the NHL and one belongs to an NHL team but is in the AHL in Texas (go figure).  None of them were saints. Hell, I’m pretty sure the Devil himself created one of them, somewhere between the strapless bra and Facebook. I’ve no doubt he invented all three with the intention of torturing womankind. Devil Spawn and his BFF (the one now in Texas…are you keeping up?) were inseparable evil. If I hadn’t been oozing with Southern Belle goodness, I would’ve been walking into double trouble on NUMEROUS occasions. I labeled them a “you’d either wind up dead or pregnant manwhich”. However, on top of the goody two-shoes-ness, I also had older, wiser friends looking out for me. MANY of them. And with magnifying glasses.

A must read for any young female hockey fan!

As an early Christmas present in ‘98 my friend Janelle gave me a book called “Crossing the Line” with strict instructions to read it before I stepped foot back into Kalamazoo. This book is BANANAS. Should my future daughter ever utter the words “Mom, me and my friends are going to Kings practice”, after I refrain from stroking out, I’m gonna be like “you’re grounded from hockey players until you’re 30 and read this book. Now.”

No one will dispute the fraternal nature of a locker room, whether it be hockey, football or cricket for all I know. There is too much raging testosterone and too many uncovered penises in one small space (and too much alcohol consumed off the ice/field) to do anyone any good. However, I wish I was a good enough writer to put into words the bond, brotherhood and unwritten code amongst hockey players. While doing some digging for this post I came across another book, “Men at Play: A Working Understanding of Professional Hockey“, which I’m ordering toute suite. I hope it can spell it out better, I only know what I saw. Some of these guys were born and bred to play hockey. They were ripped from their homes (MOST of them by choice) not too long after their voices changed to be immersed in the system. As if high school isn’t hard enough, right? “Crossing the Line” is a no holds barred, balls out examination of how junior hockey impacts such vulnerable, wee lads.

The entire hockey world was slapped in the face when Sheldon Kennedy announced he was abused by his junior hockey coach.  This week Theo Fleury, one of the WHL’s most notable exports, admitted he was sexually abused by the very same man. So although Canadian junior hockey is a staunch tradition, fabulous to watch (I’ve been to a handful of games) and produces some of the best players in North America, if not the world, the system leaves it’s marks. As if those two examples aren’t horrific enough, the culture can affect not only the players themselves, but also the girls and women around them.

Side note, Devil Spawn’s team is examined at length in “Crossing the Line”. Coincidence? Yeah…not so much. And don’t get me wrong, Readers…I still love me some hockey players!!! Bless their hearts.

One of my other favorite lady-ran sports blogs is Ladies… They’re on my blogroll (well, will be on it when it have it up and running again) and I follow them on Twitter. Today they had a post regarding pro athletes use of Twitter and the recent social networking crackdown from the NFL. They asked what we think, I almost commented…but realized that my comment was turning into an entire ramble that was more fitting for, well, here.

I’m absolutely fascinated by the tweets of all these football players. Martellus Bennett is on the Cowboys so I love him, but he is batshit crazy. But as long as he catches the ball, fool can be all sorts of crazy. TO’s bible verses were, what’s the right word, uncomfortable? Completely random? I’ll just go with odd. Pics of his recent mani/pedi were kinda like a train wreck, you just had to keep looking (much like the entire TO Show). Chris Cooley is a douche, but he’s on my fantasy team so I have to grin and bear it. OchoCinco…is self explanatory. But like the Ladies pointed out, it’s the little things I find interesting: what a player thought about a movie he just watched…or what song(s) he’s listening to get pumped up for a game. That part is no different than me saying “ugh, stuck in bloody traffic on the 101 AGAIN, but hey I’ve got Bob Schneider to keep me company” They’re multimillion dollar pro athletes, but they’re also varying forms of normal, just like us.

[Let's pause whilst I think about what it would be like to really have Bob to keep me company...]

I can look at this whole sitch as two different versions of me. The Nikki from over 10 years ago and the Nikki of today. Nikki from today is (on paper) mature, grown up, only internet stalks guys she’s actually involved with on some level (or was), is a huge football and hockey fan still, but is all about being a fan instead of going googly for a player. OKAY, aside from that whole Miles Austin thing, which is why I hope blue eyes NEVER gets a damn Twitter. But for the big pros who do have Twitters, Facebooks or official pages, I think it’s absolutely wonderful and in the age of the deteriorating player image, it’s the best thing that could’ve happen. Especially for poor hockey.

If the Twitter bird can make the playoffs in goal, the Stars should sign him

However, high school/college Nikki was bananas for hockey players. More on that can be found here, here and here. I think about what it would’ve been like if Twitter and Facebook existed THEN and my brain partially strokes out. (My college roommate is totes going to have a major *facepalm* moment when she reads that). I would have been absolutely uncontrollable. I already knew enough, I already made a big enough fool out of myself and I already put myself in plenty of a precarious situations. I’m not even talking about the biggies like Mike Modano and Jamie Langenbrunner. I’m talking about the pups, the rookies, the ones who were already way too accessible to me. Sweet Jesus I loved those boys. Petr could’ve been like “boozer25: going to play game now” and I woulda been all “nikkihearts25: @boozer25 OMG I LOVE YOU AND WILL HAVE 10,000 OF YOUR BABIES.” Now given, I’m overestimating Petr’s use of the English language at the time and underestimating what ability I did actually have to control myself and the words that came out of my mouth. But you get my point.

I was a good girl little girl with stars in my eyes (no pun intended) though, despite what it sounds like, and although I was a basket case over at least two players over the years, I handled myself well most of the time. But for every one of me? There were a dozen crazyspices out there who didn’t quite have my boundaries. I knew a few and although I turned in my Official Player Stalking Club card years ago, I’m assuming they still exist in minor league arenas all throughout the country. THAT is why Twitter worries me. For all these little manchildren playing in the minors out there, oy vey for them.

Can’t lie, now my brain is working on would’ve been tweets for some of the other guys. At least the ones it wouldn’t have completely dumbfounded. *cough*Jon*cough*

Update: the blogroll is back. I know you were worried.

I caused a stir with something I said in my last post and even though I don’t have to clarify, I will for the hell of it. I’m sweet that way. The whole analogy of “my taste in teams is much like my taste in guys…” is NOTHING AGAINST the guys I’ve been in any sort of relationship with. People are who they are. And after all, there were reasons I liked them all in the first place and reasons I can’t get over a few. Aside from my lunacy. Teams and boys can break my heart over and over again and I ridiculously come back for more. Eventually one of my teams will be amazing enough to win me another championship and some guy will be awesome enough to never let me down. So that comment was totally me being hard on myself  and my patterns because, trust me, that’s what I do best.

Moving on…back in December I discovered how entertaining the search terms that lead people to this blog are in Turn me inside out and learn me. Since I took a stupidly long hiatus, I have some catching up to do. Oh, but it’s been worth the wait…

1. The Top 5 search terms: Jamie Langenbrunner, hockey room, Miles Austin, trying to find my way back home and Petr Buzek.

Jamie Langenbrunner I get. Hockey room I kinda get. Miles Austin is the obvious all time search term leader at CLSL. This will come as a surprise to absolutely no one. Not even a noob. “Miles Austin girlfried” is actually in the top 20. Ladies, I have no idea if he has a girlfriend and I don’t care as long as he keeps catching the ball and doesn’t change his eye color. “Trying to find my way back home” are idiots looking for song lyrics, why they click on a sports blog I have no idea. But the one that leaves me absolutely dumbfounded is Petr Buzek. If you’re Googling Petr Buzek, dude, introduce yourself. I refuse to believe anyone outside of Kalamazoo and myself remember and give a crap who he is. Unless…he’s Googling himself. In that case, well, that’s another discussion all together.

PB

Funny enough, I just did a Google image search for Petr and two pictures of me came up. Huh. He just thought he could get away from me by moving back to the Czech Republic and retiring!

(edit: also whilst searching for a picture to use in this post, I came across a video interview with him from last year. This is the first thing I’ve seen with him for over six years. If I miss 14 typos before I post this…you now know why, as the 18 y ear-old in me died a little and I am ruined).

2. Burbank sports bar, The Office Bar and Grill, sports bars in LA, etc.

Several searches for sports bars lead people here. In case you pop upon this post first, I reviewed several Los Angeles area sports bars here in She don’t mean nothing – she’s just having fun. I’m kinda slacking in this department. But have no fear, football season starts in less than two months. So my alocholism and hot wing addictions are sure to kick back in.

3. ” hot girl cowboys game”

I don’t even know where to begin. First of all, this doesn’t make sense grammatically. Second of all, this just doesn’t make COMMON SENSE. Hey that hot girl who sat down the row from me at the Bengals game, or that hot girl I saw on TV during the Ravens game…I bet I can Google her!

No. You can’t.

4. “jamie langenbrunner nude”

This came up (no pun intended) in the first search term post as well and it doesn’t seem to be stopping. Which, ew. For the record I never mention Langenbrunner nude EVER.

5. “sport bars in los angeles for cowboy fan”

Yankee Doodles on Third Street Promenade in Santa Monica. Every game. We are the cat’s pyjamas.

6. “how to dress like Tim Riggins”

Oh, Timmy Riggins

This is probably my favorite search term EVER. Absolutely fabulous. I even tweeted about it. Here’s my question, do you actually watch Friday Night Lights? (If you don’t, YOU SHOULD) Because if you do, you’d know to just crawl out of bed looking all morning after tussled and hot, throw on week old jeans and a flannel shirt half buttoned and you’re good to go. Instant chick manget, that 33.

And brace yourself for not so lucky number seven…

7. “gay men hockey players s**king d**k in locker room”

Um…

Yeah.

Random P.S. Speaking of relationship nonsense, I’ve been asked to guest blog over at Excuse My Nonsense. This site is owned and operated by one of my best friends and examines the lives and insanity of single ladies knocking on the door 0f 30. It’s like a younger Sex and the City, but takes place in New York, Dallas and Los Angeles, with too many pet dogs, no designer shoes and not enough sleeping around. My first post can be found here, When I grow up.

A few weeks ago I was at dinner with a large-ish group of friends. The  conversation was all over the place, which is fine, as my head follows nothing less than random. At some point, we started discussing what our various quirks are. That convo took place late on a Thursday night, by Friday afternoon the only thing I could come up with was I think I look retarded in overly girly earrings and I refuse to eat veal and lamb. LAME.

Somewhere around the same time, a reader posted a comment that started out with “Miles Austin? Really?!” So that got me thinking – and not about Miles Austin, ass holes…

Lucky charms

Sports quirks. Quirks of the sports fan. (By the way, I’ve reached the point where I’ve typed quirk so much it looks like the weirdest word EVER). We all have rituals and superstitions, as all die hard fans do. Because I’m mentally challenged, there were two songs I listened to every time I headed to Santa Monica to watch a game with the Cowboys group – “Gimme More” by Brit Brit and “A Milli” by Lil Wayne. True story, cause why exactly would I make that up? In addition, I have a necklace with The Star on it, the first game I forgot to wear it? We not only took our first loss, we lost to the Redskins. Ew. But superstitions aren’t really quirks, they’re more like examples of our retardedness and how we’ve convinced ourselves a team’s ability to win or lose is dependent upon what color of underwear we wear (or whether we wear underwear at all…wait, what?).

Per my response to the aforementioned reader’s comment, I realized I have a Crazy Little Sports Quirk(ish). Ready for this? I don’t favoritize (did I just make that word up?) players that everyone else does. Meaning, I will move on to my next favorite player once one becomes too popular. Hence the constant question of “Miles Austin? Really?!” I became a Marion Barber fan three years ago when he fell onto my first fantasy team. I bought my white Barber jersey two years ago, my blue Barber jersey last year. Then I went to a game in Dallas. It was like the number 24 had staged an attack on Texas Stadium.  I can’t be having that. I’d already taken a liking to young Miles during Hard Knocks and was keeping an eye on his performance (dirty). So I thought, well, WHY NOT?! So I ordered my custom Austin jersey and as of right now, I’m going to take a guess that there aren’t TOO many out there. I have a suspicion that won’t last long, however. Blurgh. Anyhow, I’ve always been this way, I was even worse with hockey. I worshiped the ground Mike Modano walked on, until he blew the f*ck up, became Mr. Dallas and I was like, okay, not cool anymore – we’re done. I went onto Jamie Langenbrunner. Same thing happened, had to break up with him as well (and then he went and got himself traded to the Devils, he was so heartbroken). Then I picked an absolutely not really known outside of the fans of the teams he played for player in Petr Buzek. I OWNED that number one fan spot and almost ran with it right  into the loony bin (or into a restraining order).

This leads me to admit that some may question my reasoning behind picking favorite players. I don’t pick players for why a lot of people probably THINK I do. I look for potential and I look for heart. I like ‘em when they still play for the love of the game…when they’re still up and coming. So, you can have your mass produced Romo and Witten jerseys. Make fun of me all you want, fools, I’m okay being a crazy with an Austin jersey.

Continued from A fire I can’t put out and I’d like to have that one back:

In honor of the Stars first appearance at the Staples Center this season and celebrating 15 YEARS of hockey fandom, I’ve decided to put together a list of my Top 15 Favorite Hockey Memories.

I heart Canada

11. 1999: Oh, Canada. At one time, I had this uncanny ability to make friends with players’ ex-girlfriends or really good female friends. I still don’t know how it all happened, but hey, they liked me. Probably because my pudgy, nerdy, star-struck, infatuated younger self was the least of threats. Or it was the Southern charm. Who knows. But one such friend, Ruthie, was in Canada, Nova Scotia to be exact. She was a longtime friend of Jon Sim. Great gal, wish we could get back in touch with her. MONTHS (please remember that part, MONTHS) before the Stars even made the playoffs, Leslie and I decided to travel to Canada to visit her. Getting to Halifax required a layover in Toronto coming to and from. We had some total good times…pretty much still my favorite trip that wasn’t intended to directly relate to anything hockey. Learning to drink in Halifax, continuing to learn how to drink even more in New Glasgow (those Canadians, man…), camping on Cape Breton Island and freaking Jon Sim completely the f*ck out…PRICELESS.

Fate has a major sense of humor. It’s taken me almost 10 years, but I can finally laugh about this trip. The two weeks we were in Nova Scotia happened to land right when Sim got his day with the Cup. During the planning process, we did everything we could to figure out how to avoid bumping into him, despite knowing we’d be running in his social circle. Naturally, Plan Avoid Jon Sim didn’t pan out too well. However, he’s not the brightest crayola in the box and forgot at some point in time we were there…or even that we exist! Leslie waited till Jon visited the loo and chased the Cup down and kissed it right where Joe Nieuwendyk’s name is engraved with the ‘87 Flames, I became pals with Jon’s brother (which led to an infamous night on the SMU campus a year later…let’s just say I WALKED into a stop sign) and turns out one of Jon’s childhood friends is the hottest guy I’ve met to this day. Chris Hale of New Glasgow, Nova Scotia…I love you.

It’s not every year two crazy fans happen upon a player’s day with the Cup in his hometown, drunk and delusional, on a river in the middle of nowhere Canada. Eh?

Me and Leslie showing our love to Lord Staley's Cup, Hockey Hall of Fame

On the way back to the United States of America, besides a stay in Toronto at The Scariest Hostel Ever, we popped into the Hockey Hall of Fame. Amazing. I can’t wait to go back one day. They have this ginormous wall-size picture of the current Stanley Cup champions leading into the trophy room. Being the dedicated fans we were, I asked a friendly looking family to take our photo with it, seeing as it was the Stars. Afterward, I thanked them and asked where they were from. They said Buffalo. I said, oh, um, I’m sorry…IT WAS TOTALLY A GOAL.

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Continued from A fire I can’t put out.

In honor of the Stars first appearance at the Staples Center this season and celebrating 15 YEARS of hockey fandom, I’ve decided to put together a list of my Top 15 Favorite Hockey Memories.

6. 1997: Stars training camp in Kalamazoo. Yes, there really is a Kalamazoo. And I’ve been there a LOT, probably more than anyone who has never actually lived there. For several years, the Stars minor league affiliation was with the Michigan K-Wings (now the Kalamazoo Wings), a relationship that carried over from the North Stars days. After hosting training camp in Dallas for the first four years, they decided to take it off campus to Kalamazoo in 1997. Yep, that’s the first and last year they did so…and it pretty much changed my life.

Because of the aforementioned Peter Buzek, I got exceptionally involved in keeping up with the K-Wings and

Petr and me, Stars training camp 1997

all of our up and coming players (players closer to my age? I was all over it!) About this same time, I met a total hockey fanatic (I’ve still yet to meet anyone quite like her!) named Kim. Kim and a couple of her friends had plans to go up to Kalamazoo to attend camp and meet up with some of the local fans they’d been corresponding with. She asked if I wanted to go with. Uh, was I breathing? Sign me up. The great part about that trip? Kim had gotten to know Petr over the past year, therefore, she did a 17 year-old giddy heart some good and officially introduced me. I was probably mentally picking out fancy white dresses and shiny diamond rings and planning family vacas to the Czech Republic as I drifted off to sleep that night. I will forever be grateful to her for the memory and the picture that came with it…11 years later it is still my absolute favorite.

It was a kick ass time. Training camp has always been my favorite time of the season, still is. I met some amazing people beginning in Kalamazoo with that trip and throughout the dozen or so trips I took afterward. Heck, I almost went to school at Western Michigan. I had a second family there, it was amazing. They’ve got a fabulous booster club that takes care of all the players and as a smitten little girl, it was all sorts of fantastic to have someone in the inside to dish the dirt and keep me updated. (Thank you, JoAnn!)

Petr and me, 1998 K-Wings Booster Club holiday party

The K-Wings organization and booster club have all sorts of great player involved events and I had the chance to go to most of them. Two (or three?) green ice games, charity spaghetti dinners and the booster club holiday party. So much fun…and yes, oh my god, I was SUCH a stalker.

I still go back whenever I can, it will never be the same as it was then…but everyone there still means the world to me. My favorite K-zoo gal will always be Miss Marci. How we met is best left for discussion over margaritas, because there is no other proper way of celebrating the amazing life force that she is. I can only hope to be like her when I grow up!

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In honor of the Stars first appearance at the Staples Center this season and celebrating 15 YEARS of hockey fandom, I’ve decided to put together a list of my Top 15 Favorite Hockey Memories. I am totally stoked about this. This is the first of three entries. There are many, many wonderful experiences and as hard as it was to choose, I’ve no doubt I picked the cream of the crop. And apparently I didn’t have much of a life outside of hockey from 1998 to 2000. As much as I talk about football, I am known amongst family, friends and former classmates back in Dallas/Denton for being a ridiculously ginormous hockey fan. And I am proud of it. It’s shaped who I am today.

My room in high school, no joke!

For example, when I was home for my 10-year high school reunion last month, a fellow classmate asked

Me with Jamie Langenbrunner

“you’re still a hockey fan I hope? Please tell me you’re still a hockey fan…cause it’s you.” Our senior year we put our hand prints on the wall in paint, mine is signed with my name and a big star. One of my congratulatory ads in the senior yearbook? Included a photo of me and Jamie Langenbrunner. WORD.

When I started this blog, it wasn’t meant to be another armchair quarterback’s analysis of the most recent game or what the team could do better. I obviously know enough to hold decent conversations at the sports bars and do a fair amount of trash talking, but I leave the details to the big guns like Blogging the Boys. They do a MUCH better job of logically saying what is in my head. Therefore, this blog is about me and my life as a chick who loves her some sports and my experiences. So the memories listed over the next three posts aren’t lessons in Stars history…they’re MY hockey history.

Some of these I will go into more detail in future posts…once I find the pictures! I’ve already frightened a couple of people by mentioning I’m doing this. Ah, the power of the interwebs! I hope y’all enjoy, you’re about to find out where the Crazy in Crazy Lil Sports Lady came from. Please note, we’re going in chronological order. Starting with…

The movie that started it all.

1. 1993: The Mighty Ducks. The film hit movie theatres in 1992, home video sometime in 1993, which is how I saw it. I remember sitting on the floor of the living room when it was over thinking, oh my god, hockey is the coolest sport EVER. Screw football! (I know, imagine that…I was 13, obviously confused and going through an identity crisis or some such).

Amid the second or third viewing within 24 hours (seriously) my mom popped into the living room during the scene in which the team visits the North Stars and announced “oh, that’s the team that is moving to Dallas.” COME AGAIN?! Once this was confirmed by more reliable sources than a mom, I dumped Christian Slater as my celebrity boyfriend at once for Mike Modano. (Again…confused).

That October I watched the first Dallas Stars game on my tiny TV, began clipping out any article with the words “Mike” and “Modano” joined together and well, it just gets better…

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