Wins and Losses…and Wins

I promise that I will not write another hockey-related post for the rest of the month…after this one.  See, the trouble is, I don’t get out much, so when I do, I have to take advantage.

Sarah and I were sitting up very high in section 212 at Madison Square Garden.  I was apprehensive about how we would be treated. Would we be harassed? Would I have to hold back on my cheering?  I had heard stories about the hard-core Ranger fans. They could be pretty rough on outsiders.

On Sarah’s left was a family of three, a mom, a dad, and their five-year-old son.  The dad looked like a hockey player. During the game, his son carried on in a pretty loud voice, so we got a sense of where his head was.  He was on vacation, and he was telling his parents what he wanted to do when they got to the beach. “We’re not going to the beach. We’re staying home for this vacation.”

“When we go to the beach, I want to build a sand castle.”

“Mmm hmm.  But we’re not going to the beach, son.  We’re staying home this vacation, and it’s winter, so we won’t be anywhere near the beach.”

“I thought you said we were going to be on vacation.  I’m going to bring my boogie board.”

This carried on throughout the first period.  Sarah was amused. The parents apologized to her for the distracting non-hockey conversations.  They were season ticket holders, it turned out, but not the rabid kind. Or if they were, then the Rangers’ poor season had taken a little of the rabidness out of them.  

On my right was a much more vocal group.  Midway through the first period, the guy behind me was on beer number four, not that I was counting. He announced it. Around that time he noticed my Capitals cap.  I was a bit nervous when he started asking me to defend a Caps player who had just taken a roughing penalty.  “How can you like Wilson? He’s such a goon.”

“I might not like him if he was on another team,” I said, “but he’s got some skill. I think most people would admit they’d want him on their team if they could have him.”

“Yeah, I guess.  But he’s not, so I think he’s a jerk.”

“You were just saying there isn’t enough checking nowadays.”

“Yeah, you’re right about that.”

The game was close.  We were both trying to stay cordial.  It was a Sunday afternoon after all. Who wants to be angry on a Sunday afternoon?   

By the third period, with the game tied, the guy behind me was on beer number six, but he wasn’t getting belligerent, just even more talkative.  “So, where are you guys from?”

“We came in from Connecticut.”

“Really?”  He had to think about this for a while.  “So, I’m curious. You’re from Connecticut.  How’d you get to be a Caps fan?”

“I grew up in Washington,” I replied.

“Oh, I get it.  I grew up on Long Island.  I should be an Islanders fan, but I’m a Rangers fan.”

“I can totally understand that,” I said. He and and his girlfriend laughed. Then they resumed their plans with the couple in front of them.  They were planning a road trip to Las Vegas in December, and a unique doubleheader:  first a Rangers game, then the next night a Lady Gaga concert. Everyone was very excited.  

Meanwhile, on the other side, Dad tapped the old guy sitting in front of me.  “Hey, Slick, I think I’m gonna drop my season tickets. I hear you sometimes sell your tickets.  Is that right?” They exchanged phone numbers, and I realized Sarah and I had sort of slipped into the midst of a little neighborhood in section 212.  It’s kind of like we were the crashers at a party. I wondered whose seats we’d taken.

When the game ended and the Caps had won, we didn’t linger.  We were hoping to catch a 4 o’clock train back to Connecticut. We headed for the aisle and down the steps.  As we were weaving through the crowds on the concourse, Sarah stopped short. “Oh, crap. I forgot my wallet!”  Sarah had only recently started carrying a wallet. She used to just have her drivers licence and a credit card in a slot on the back of her phone.  She’d never lost that, but a few weeks ago,  she announce that it was time she acted more like a grown up. She had more cards to carry, and felt like a high schooler with her old phone set-up.  The problem was, she had to keep remembering to bring her wallet…and when she did, she had to remember not to leave it.

We did a quick 180 and rushed back to the entrance to our section.  The usher didn’t want to let us back up to the seat. “Can I see your ticket?”  I showed it to him, and said, “We just need to check our seat. My daughter left her wallet.”  He relented, but said he had to go with us. We walked down the row. There were beer cans, cups, trays, and all manner of garbage under the seats, but no wallet. “It’s got to be here,” Sarah said.  We checked the rows in front and behind.  No luck. “We only left the seat a few minutes ago.”

“Sorry, miss.  If an usher found it, he’d bring it to the lost and found.  It’s by the main entrance.”

We rushed back toward the exit.   Again, we wove around the slow-moving traffic.  We asked for directions to the main entrance and a worker pointed to a stairway that actually wasn’t crowded.  We arrived on the main floor and hustled toward the entrance. I spotted an MSG employee who looked like he could direct us to the Lost and Found.  I wasn’t really that optimistic, though. None of the ushers remembered seeing a wallet. I sighed. It had been such a good day. Our timing on the way in had been perfect.  The game was good. The crowd was fine. The Caps won in a shootout. Why did it have to end this way?

Suddenly we heard a voice behind us. “Sarah! Sarah!”  We wheeled around. It was the mom from the family next to us.  “Sarah, we found your wallet. We were calling to you, but you guys left so fast, we couldn’t catch you.”

“Oh, thank you so much,” Sarah said.

“We just brought your wallet to that guy over there.”  She pointed to the Lost and Found. We thanked the people again and headed over to retrieve the wayward wallet.  I was amused that they had been calling Sarah by her name. “It felt like they knew you,” I said.

“They must have just looked at my driver’s license, but I know.  It did sound like that.”

As we headed out the door, Sarah sighed.  “Sorry about that.”

“No worries,” I said.  “I think I have something to write about tonight.”

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