Large and imposing, bright lights lit up the sky as I caught my first glance of Heinz Field, looming high above the mouth of the three rivers from which it gets its nickname. A little voice, which I had been suppressing all week broke through--this is it, I thought. The months, weeks, and days of waiting were over; only a few short hours separated me from what might be the most intense game the Washington Capitals have possibly ever played in.
Walking the short half mile from the parking garage to the stadium, I passed thousands of tailgaters sporting jerseys from both teams. The air was filled with the smell of hot dogs, coca-cola and mustard, and the sounds of small children running in between cars playing street hockey and corn-hole. The sun was setting, turning the overcast sky seven different shades of pink and purple. Joining the crowd, I was swept along Art Roony Boulevard toward the front entrance of Heinz Field. A police motorcade drove down the street, flashing their lights. A bus rolled to a stop behind them. Suddenly everyone wearing blue or black started to sprint toward the bus, while the people in red continued walking at a normal pace. Shouts of "It's them! It's them!" added to the already noisy street. I reached the bus in time to see the back of the last Penguin disappear into the stadium.
Being two hours early, I walked around to see what all the NHL event had to offer. There were large blow up jerseys representing each team, and a colossal hockey player whose face was so gruesome that it could only be a rather large, inflatable, cartoon Ovechkin. There was a small rink set up, complete with boards, glass and penalty boxes, behind large merchandise tents. The whole street was blocked off, and with all the tents and food booths, it had all the appeals of a carnival.
Walking the short half mile from the parking garage to the stadium, I passed thousands of tailgaters sporting jerseys from both teams. The air was filled with the smell of hot dogs, coca-cola and mustard, and the sounds of small children running in between cars playing street hockey and corn-hole. The sun was setting, turning the overcast sky seven different shades of pink and purple. Joining the crowd, I was swept along Art Roony Boulevard toward the front entrance of Heinz Field. A police motorcade drove down the street, flashing their lights. A bus rolled to a stop behind them. Suddenly everyone wearing blue or black started to sprint toward the bus, while the people in red continued walking at a normal pace. Shouts of "It's them! It's them!" added to the already noisy street. I reached the bus in time to see the back of the last Penguin disappear into the stadium.
Being two hours early, I walked around to see what all the NHL event had to offer. There were large blow up jerseys representing each team, and a colossal hockey player whose face was so gruesome that it could only be a rather large, inflatable, cartoon Ovechkin. There was a small rink set up, complete with boards, glass and penalty boxes, behind large merchandise tents. The whole street was blocked off, and with all the tents and food booths, it had all the appeals of a carnival.
Walking into the stadium was a jaw dropping experience. As we climbed to the upper decks, the rink came into view for the first time. The untouched ice glimmering under the lights had a mesmerizing effect. It added a whole another level of intensity to an already intense game.
My worst fear was that we would emerge from the escalators and find our seats close enough to touch the sign saying section 526. Thank God we weren't that high up; our seats were perfect. The ice had been built on a platform, leaving those in the 100 level sections unable to actually see onto the ice. Though we were probably sitting as close to heaven as you could get in the stadium, we could see onto the ice as well as everything else going on on the field. Blue and red melted together as everyone stood to sing the national anthems in an Olympic-like opening ceremony. Flashes of cameras other than my own shone like flashing stars throughout the stadium. Excitement and tension built up in the stadium, encouraging every fan in the stands to hoot, holler, and cheer for their team. The noise rose to a peak, and then the puck dropped and the game got underway.
The first period was gut-wrenching. The 0-0 tie was enough to send the butterflies in my stomach into a frenzy. Erskine's fight with Rupp halfway through the period sent energy through the stands, even though it was a pretty even draw.
Evgeni Malkin's goal in the second period was perhaps inevitable. It came off of a bad line change by the Capitals. Pittsburgh fans stood and pointed in our faces and laughed. But about five minutes later we got to jump up and cheer and laugh at them as Mike Knuble put the puck past Fluery. Discernable groans came from the Pens fans as 8 minutes later Eric Fehr scored, and the Caps left the ice a goal ahead. There was a hit behind the play at the end of the period, and Dave Steckel ran into Sidney Crosby, who was according to the Pittsburgh press, "seriously injured". It began raining half way through the second period, and continued throughout the game.
Eric Fehr put another one on the board before the game was over. The atmosphere had an electric feel as the clock winded down. The caps started celebrating with .6 seconds left in the game. Caps fans all over the stadium exploded in chants and applause, and it was really amazing to see how many of them had actually come to the game.
With all of the hype surrounding the Winter Classic, I feel like there should have been a trophy awarded after the game. The NHL did its best to turn this into a "Superbowl-esque" event. And let me tell you, it had all of the components of a big league championship game. To me, this felt like more of a play off game than many that I've been to.
I thought that Pittsburgh's reaction to the loss was completely classless. The pens skated off the rink, ignoring Washington lined up at center ice. As I mentioned in my short post last night, I was completely outraged, as were many other Washington fans I spoke to. Again, I place the blame on the coach, and the Captain Sidney Crosby, for certainly it was a fault in leadership. The poor sportsmanship was a thread we saw through the fans, whose only (and quite unoriginal) post-game chant was "c-u-p-s, we have more!" And you can bet that sitting on the street corner for two hours while waiting for the car, I was the subject of much taunting. The media coverage was much whinier than anticipated. The general consensus was that the Winter Classic had been spoiled by Washington and that it was in no way fair.
But that's okay. I got my revenge on some penguins fan's car. In his carefully painted Pittsburgh emblem on his back windshield, I traced "lets go caps" with my fingers. I wouldn't change any part of this weekend for the world. This was an amazing experience from the tailgaters all the way through to the waiting in the parking lot at 2 am. The NHL had a task at hand to create a game worthy of these two powerful rivals, and they certainly did a tremendous job of it. A small suggestion for next time, if you're going to go to all of the trouble to make it such an event, then make it feel less like a penguins home game. Also, Washington, trod out those retro jerseys more often. They're better than the uniforms we have now!
I would definitely recommend going to an NHL event like this if you get the chance. It's an experience that you won't soon forget!
My worst fear was that we would emerge from the escalators and find our seats close enough to touch the sign saying section 526. Thank God we weren't that high up; our seats were perfect. The ice had been built on a platform, leaving those in the 100 level sections unable to actually see onto the ice. Though we were probably sitting as close to heaven as you could get in the stadium, we could see onto the ice as well as everything else going on on the field. Blue and red melted together as everyone stood to sing the national anthems in an Olympic-like opening ceremony. Flashes of cameras other than my own shone like flashing stars throughout the stadium. Excitement and tension built up in the stadium, encouraging every fan in the stands to hoot, holler, and cheer for their team. The noise rose to a peak, and then the puck dropped and the game got underway.
The first period was gut-wrenching. The 0-0 tie was enough to send the butterflies in my stomach into a frenzy. Erskine's fight with Rupp halfway through the period sent energy through the stands, even though it was a pretty even draw.
Evgeni Malkin's goal in the second period was perhaps inevitable. It came off of a bad line change by the Capitals. Pittsburgh fans stood and pointed in our faces and laughed. But about five minutes later we got to jump up and cheer and laugh at them as Mike Knuble put the puck past Fluery. Discernable groans came from the Pens fans as 8 minutes later Eric Fehr scored, and the Caps left the ice a goal ahead. There was a hit behind the play at the end of the period, and Dave Steckel ran into Sidney Crosby, who was according to the Pittsburgh press, "seriously injured". It began raining half way through the second period, and continued throughout the game.
Eric Fehr put another one on the board before the game was over. The atmosphere had an electric feel as the clock winded down. The caps started celebrating with .6 seconds left in the game. Caps fans all over the stadium exploded in chants and applause, and it was really amazing to see how many of them had actually come to the game.
With all of the hype surrounding the Winter Classic, I feel like there should have been a trophy awarded after the game. The NHL did its best to turn this into a "Superbowl-esque" event. And let me tell you, it had all of the components of a big league championship game. To me, this felt like more of a play off game than many that I've been to.
I thought that Pittsburgh's reaction to the loss was completely classless. The pens skated off the rink, ignoring Washington lined up at center ice. As I mentioned in my short post last night, I was completely outraged, as were many other Washington fans I spoke to. Again, I place the blame on the coach, and the Captain Sidney Crosby, for certainly it was a fault in leadership. The poor sportsmanship was a thread we saw through the fans, whose only (and quite unoriginal) post-game chant was "c-u-p-s, we have more!" And you can bet that sitting on the street corner for two hours while waiting for the car, I was the subject of much taunting. The media coverage was much whinier than anticipated. The general consensus was that the Winter Classic had been spoiled by Washington and that it was in no way fair.
But that's okay. I got my revenge on some penguins fan's car. In his carefully painted Pittsburgh emblem on his back windshield, I traced "lets go caps" with my fingers. I wouldn't change any part of this weekend for the world. This was an amazing experience from the tailgaters all the way through to the waiting in the parking lot at 2 am. The NHL had a task at hand to create a game worthy of these two powerful rivals, and they certainly did a tremendous job of it. A small suggestion for next time, if you're going to go to all of the trouble to make it such an event, then make it feel less like a penguins home game. Also, Washington, trod out those retro jerseys more often. They're better than the uniforms we have now!
I would definitely recommend going to an NHL event like this if you get the chance. It's an experience that you won't soon forget!
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