On the morning of Thursday, September 10th, I received a phone call from Quinnipiac Sports Information Director Ken Sweeten. There was an opening as the PA announcer for the women's hockey team at QU, and I was asked to come in and audition for the role the next morning.
I won't lie, I knew it wasn't catapulting me towards becoming the next Bob Sheppard. This was the team that was lucky to draw 100 fans at the Bank the year before, when they finished 3-26-5 under a first-year head coach. But, as I rode the shuttle back from York Hill that day, after being handed the keys to what was perennially the Ford Pinto of Quinnipiac athletics, I started thinking. Maybe this would be the year when the turnaround began. Maybe I would be lucky enough to be a part - a small part, from a booth high above the ice - of something special this winter.
One day after this storybook season came to a close with a game that felt like a movie - minus the happy ending - I sit again, thinking. As I sat on that shuttle back in September, I was right. I was privileged to be a small part of something special this winter.
Yesterday, as I said, had the makings of a Hollywood production. The home team, the team that never gets any respect, trying to tie the game and force overtime in the deciding game of a playoff series. The girl who grew up just minutes from campus knotting the game at one in the final minutes of regulation. One of the top players going down with an injury on the game-tying goal.
And then, the overtimes.
This team was no stranger to them. In fact, they had played two on Friday before capturing game one of the best-of-three series. Two overtimes wouldn't be enough on this day that was becoming night, though.
At some point in either the second or third overtime, the Canadian men's hockey team defeated the U.S. in the gold-medal game of the Olympics. I debated whether or not to announce Sidney Crosby's game-winning goal, and then decided in favor of it. Whatever would encourage our Canadian-born goaltender to hang in there, and maybe for one of our Canadian skaters to win it in OT like Sid the Kid, was worth swallowing my nationalistic pride for a few moments.
Three overtimes wouldn't be enough, either. At the intermission between the third and fourth overtimes, we started to try and figure out what the record was for the longest women's college hockey game. It was Mathias Gausz, the field producer for WQAQ's broadcast of the game, who informed me and others on press row that the record was 5:35 into the fifth overtime.
I decided to keep quiet about it, hoping that the Bobcats would finish off RPI in the fourth extra frame. No such luck, however.
At the intermission between the fourth and fifth OTs, as the scoreboards behind the goals read "Period 8," the surreal feeling at the Bank continued to grow. We were witnessing something most of us would likely never see again. A five-overtime hockey game. Jill Seward and Pat Salvas, the grad assistants in the Sports Information Department, were trying to figure out how to set up the game in the statistics software, as the program couldn't handle something this rare. Granted, it was only the second time in history it had happened. We were 5:35 from being at the longest game ever, as more and more people started filing into the Bank.
Then, four minutes and change into that fifth overtime, the air was sucked out of the building like a depressurized plane. It was the ultimate heartbreak. It was the game that felt like an inspirational Disney-esque movie, but with a horror flick of an ending. I've been a life-long Red Sox fan, and I would rather watch side-by-side TVs of Buckner's botched ground ball, Aaron Boone's walk-off, and Bucky Dent's moon shot over the Monster from sunrise to sunset than to ever see the end of that game again.
Maybe it's because I was there. Yeah, that was a part of it. But it was something more.
I was right when I sat on that shuttle in September. I did get to be a small part of something special this winter. The storybook season didn't have the Hollywood ending, but I can't think of a more enjoyable way to spend many of my Friday and Saturday nights the past few months. From the puck drop against the Bluewater Juniors in September, to when the team skated off the ice last night, it was truly a privilege. From witnessing the phenomenal single-season turnaround of this program, to those of you on the team I've gotten to know this year, thank you. Thanks for the interviews. Thanks for the memories. Thanks for giving me tips on how to do my job better. Most of all, thanks for making me proud to be a Quinnipiac Bobcat.
--MTM
