Dance with the one who brought you.
Sports head coaches say that all the time when they want to make it clear that they won’t change their game plan in the face of a tough opponent. But what about the fans? Should they remain arm-in-arm with their dates even when said partner passes out face-down in the punch bowl or shows up in a powder-blue tux? Is there room for fans to rearrange their dance cards?
For the past two years, I’ve struggled with this question, peering across the room at the cutie in the corner wearing a simple gold dress while remaining reluctant to let go of the glitzy prom queen at my side.
I first found love in the early 1990s in the New York Rangers. I grew up outside Albany, N.Y., a television market dominated by the Rangers, with the New Jersey Devils and New York Islanders serving as local publicity also-rans. Like an attention-stealing beauty queen, the Rangers had me rapt. They were the first team I saw. I couldn’t help but fall for them.
I followed my blue-shirt beauty everywhere, tracking every step she took. I beamed as she rose to prominence, asserting herself over an overachieving Canadian girl who rode a singular talent named Pavel Bure to the Stanley Cup finals. I couldn’t have been more proud. My girl was shining.
From there, though, things went downhill. I wasn’t tremendously upset that she was sliding from the peak of success. For a few years, she was still trying hard. But then, she changed her whole look. She abandoned the youth and vigor that made me fall in love with her, instead choosing to accentuate features that made her look old and slow — features that made her look like she didn’t care anymore.
The final straw was when she changed her haircut. She could have gone with an inexpensive hairdo she could really do something with in the future, maybe a Kim Johnsson or a Jan Hlavac or even a Pavel Brendl kind of thing. But no, she wanted something trendy and expensive. She picked the Eric Lindros.
“How could you?” I screamed. During our entire affair, I made it clear I hated the image the Lindros portrayed. “It’s like you’re asking for split ends. Are you trying to destroy yourself forever?”
I was devastated. I agonized, pondering my future with my once beautiful Rangers. I couldn’t do it, I decided. I couldn’t stay with someone who could turn her back on me. She was not who I once thought she was. She didn’t care anymore.
At about the same time, another girl caught my eye. This girl was young and strong. She knew she couldn’t be the best naturally, so she fought extra-hard to get to the top. She had attitude. She gleamed in gold.
After sliding 180 miles across the dance floor to where she was standing, I instantaneously became infatuated with her — the Boston Bruins.
“I like the way you use your Joe Thornton,” I said to her. “You’ve got a Byron Dafoe that can’t be beat, and your heart shines bright through your P.J. Stock.”
My new lady returned my affection, always showing me she cared. She wanted to be the best for me. She fought tooth and nail with the nasty ladies of the league, telling the Montreal Canadiens and the rest of the girls in her division she could beat them any night of the week.
Then the night came. The fateful night where past and present collided. The Rangers found out I was cozying up with the Bruins and came looking for her. They beat the crap out of my new girl. I found out what had happened the next day, and — low and behold — I was happy.
How could this be? The Rangers and I had ended our fling long ago. Granted, my heart jumped a bit when I heard she had revived her Mark Messier and Mike Richter — two of the qualities I found appealing when we were together — but I didn’t like the changes she had made. Didn’t I?
Again, I thought long and hard. Who do I love? Who will I go to? The inner debate was excruciating, but the answer eventually became clear. I couldn’t abandon my first love when the spot she had carved in my heart was so big.
Sure, she had betrayed me. But I guess the Lindros doesn’t look so bad. She was trying to get better. I understand that now. Plus, she taught me what it meant to love someone — I can’t give up on her now.
Bruins, I am sorry. You caught my eye and became the focus of my infatuation. But, in the end, you are just eye candy and can never have all of my heart. It belongs to the Rangers.
Oh, Rangers, won’t you take me back?
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