Even more beards.
Everything about the night was, well, sexy. Even the fist-fighting that lead to five minutes in the penalty box was exhilarating. I can't believe it's been three years since I went to a game.
What can I say? These are the moments I miss my roots. And smile upon remembering my first, childhood love and kissing him in his hockey pads after he beat our neighboring town rivalry. Or pretending to be a Mighty Duck with a tennis ball and broom in the driveway on humid, summer afternoons. Pure nostalgia.