Liev Schreiber concluded the first season of HBO's 24/7 Penguins/Capitals with a quote that brought me to tears. In three minutes, he concisely summed up the most powerful aspect of my favorite sport. It was one of the most beautiful examples of scripting I had ever heard.
"Hockey won't hold still to give you a better look," he said. "You wouldn't want it to anyway. It's the action that makes the possibilities endless. The next practice, the next city and the next game await."
I heard the lines midway through my sophomore year at UB. I only related the words to what hockey meant to me. I thought the quote only applied to pucks and sticks, men in pads and skates.
I didn't think it would apply to me.
Looking back on my time at UB, I can only think of who I was when I walked in and who I am today. Reflecting on the biggest transition of my life, I realize that my toes grace the precipice of what might be an even more risky and encompassing decision.
When I came to this sprawling campus, I came with hopes that I would find myself. I was depressed; you might even go so far as to say I was suicidal. I was lonely, desperate for companionship, but with little to no social skills and no idea of how to make friends.
I had social anxiety. I hid away in my room, talked to friends back home online. I considered myself a boat without an anchor, because I so easily left my family behind. I thought it was a bad thing. I thought that because I had no anchor, I had no control over my course; I would drift from place to place and remain lonely.
The only time I truly felt alive was down the street from my South Campus dorm room. The then-HSBC Arena was my home away from home. I remember my first game there, a preseason game against the Toronto Maple Leafs. I was so excited to be in the presence of my favorite hockey team, I sunk to the ground beside the boards and cried.
Now, a born-again Bruins fan, I smile fondly in remembrance of my adoration of the Sabres.
It was my love for the Sabres that slowly brought me out of my shell. Sophomore year, I wrote for The Spectrum, hosted a hockey talk show on WRUB radio and worked at WGR 550 to try to step into the hockey media business.
I made friends, a closely-knit group of people who went with me for almost all of the 19 games I spent at the arena freshman year (that's half of all home games, for those keeping track). We bonded over our love for the game.
And slowly, the symptoms of my mental instability started to slip away.
I look at myself now and see almost no resemblance to the person I was four years ago. I don't see an opponent in the mirror, someone who I have to defeat to be happy. Four years ago, my reflection was my most hated rival. The person in the mirror held me back, a groping opponent who just wanted to smash my face into the glass.
I don't recognize myself sometimes, because I don't hate who's looking back at me any more.
Hockey helped me find who I am. If you asked me who I was four years ago, I'd say "No one special." I'd avoid your eyes, and I would make any excuse to abandon the conversation.
Now? I'm Meg. Let's talk sports. Let's talk cars. Let's go get a few beers and talk about anything. I want to talk to you. I want to know you better.
UB gave me the stage to build my confidence, to grow and to be who I want to be. And that confidence, while still in its infancy sophomore year, led me to find love. A relationship based around hockey and physics.
I lost that love a little while later, and I thought the world was ending, but I also learned that it wasn't.
If you took a picture of me the past few years, a picture of what I think would be the most important part of my UB experience, it would be out of focus. I was never the same person long enough, never sat still long enough to take a proper portrait. My identifying mark would be a blur.
Four years ago, I was anxious about being a boat without an anchor.
Now? I wouldn't want one anyway. The next city and the next game await.
Email: meganlea@buffalo.edu
