My husband Larry and I have always had our basic values in common, but our interests are far apart. I love the arts, especially opera. He' s a huge sports fan of hockey (曲棍球). His big passion is NHL hockey. He' s shared season tickets with his friends for years.
There were times when we attended the games with other couples. The rest of our group was enthusiastic about the game, even the women. They knew all the players and how to pronounce their long names. I enjoyed participating in the National Anthem, but aside from the meal, that was the only thing I enjoyed about our hockey nights. Instead of appreciating the good seats we had, I' d complain that it was too cold there. When the game started, my phone would be on my lap. Most of the time, I' d be texting or daydreaming. ometimes, my texting would be interrupted when the home team scored. I knew they scored because everyone jumped up and exchanged high-fives and shouts.
What was so exciting about a group of grown men on ice hitting something with a stick? It was beyond me. I started to wonder. Why was I the only one not enjoying myself? As I looked around at thousands of people cheering and getting increasingly excited, I decided to at least give it a try — for my husband' s sake, if not for my own.
It took a few games, but soon I learned who the goalie (守门员) was, who our latest player was, who had been traded and from where. When the other team scored, I eventually felt great disappointment with the rest of my crowd. I searched the program to see which part of the globe our players had come from.
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I was surprised that I began to like the games I watched.
I felt excited when I heard that our city would have the first women' s hockey team.
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