Hockey… just typing that word stirs emotions deep within my soul. What hockey means to me is far more than what I could ever put into words, so where do I even begin to express what this beautiful game means to me?

My dad was born in Portugal and moved to Canada when he was 13 years old. His father picked him, his three brothers, and his mom up at the airport in Edmonton, AB, in the dead of a cold Canadian winter, driving them all in a five-seat Chevy Camaro in 1973. They traveled eight hours to Prince George, BC, where they would settle. My mom was born in the tiny, nearly unoccupied town of Likely, BC, to parents who had come to Canada, escaping post-WWII Germany with only a few dollars in their pockets, searching for a better life in a prosperous nation. My love for this game was not generational by any means.

I start with that because, ever since I can remember, I have had a dream—a dream to play in the NHL and to be involved in hockey for the rest of my life. Why did this game captivate me so much that, at the age of 40, I still imagine myself being involved at the game's highest level in some capacity? Dreaming is in my blood—that is evident in both of my parents—but hockey does something to people that is almost magical.

Hockey is just a beautiful game. The sound of pucks hitting players' sticks during practice, the calls for a pass, the rhythm of play. The smell of each different arena, especially the ones from childhood. I can still walk into the Vanderhoof, BC, arena, breathe in that arena air, and almost be transported back to when I was a young boy playing this beautiful game. Each arena has its own unique scent and feel.

The feeling of your blades on the ice—scraping, sliding, gliding. Making something external, steel blades, become part of your body. We almost turn into superheroes, wearing a special outfit. I mean, what other sport has steel blades 3 mm thick, where players are moving anywhere from 10 to 20 mph around a frozen sheet of ice, smacking a 3-inch diameter rubber object, crashing into boards with plexiglassth? I think about that often and laugh at the uniqueness of our beautiful game.

So much more can be said about the game itself and its uniqueness, but what is truly special about hockey is what it can do to a person's soul and the endless opportunities it provides.

• It’s the fierce competitiveness—sticks smashing, fists flying, words exchanged—only to find appreciation for your opponent's willingness to battle and say, "Good work."
• It’s the bumps and bruises that hockey players wear like a badge of honor. As Dave King would say, it’s about “loose pucks & ice bags.”
• It’s forgiving. Hockey moves too fast to dwell on mistakes. There are too many of them during a game to hold onto. Make a mistake, correct, repeat. Hockey begs you to play.
• It’s the crushing feeling of a hard-fought loss, knowing every one of your teammates feels the exact same way. Like the Vernon Vipers’ 2007 RBC Championship team motto, "23 Hearts, One Beat"— hockey players move in unison for the betterment of the team.
• It’s the peaceful feeling of stepping onto the ice for a 6:00 AM skate, hearing only the arena lights humming, the nets waiting for the fresh sheet to be carved up. So, so peaceful and calming.

I have been around many different athletes and sports teams, and I can say without a doubt—hockey people, whether players, coaches, or managers, have no greater love for their sport. How could someone not be completely in love with this beautiful game?

Just watch the NHL playoffs going on right now—Jets tying Game 7 with 1.7 seconds left and winning in OT, VGK scoring with 0.4 seconds left in Game 3 of round 2—epic, epic sports moments. Look at the emotion in those players. Watch their interviews—it’s all about the team, never about themselves.

Man, I just love this beautiful game. Every time I step onto the ice, I try to honor everyone who has skated before me—past, present, and future. I hope I can continue to show this game how much I love it for many more years to come.