Here’s an entry from the archives. All the way from December 2005, in fact.

Magic with Malik and Dad
There we were, Dad and I, in the Madison Square Garden last Saturday. It was Dad’s first NHL game ever, and for me, it was the first time I was in MSG.

Maybe that’s why we got there two hours early and had to run across the street to Andrew’s diner for apple pie and nachos because the gates opened an hour later. Turns out it was good call so that instead of the five-buck hot dogs (albeit huge!), we could spend our imported dollars in hats and T-shirts.

The arena was much more intimate than I could ever imagine, the crowd loud and, at times, funny, and the seats simply awesome.

Having seen that game live, I am all aboard the NHL. If Caps at Rangers can provide so much excitement, speed, fancy stick handling and, yes, hitting, I can’t even imagine what the game looks like with some of the better teams playing. All in all, it’s obvious that not all that action can fit inside my 28-inch TV in Stockholm.

What‘s absolutely 100 percent sure is that Marek Malik with his arms stretched towards the arena ceiling certainly won’t. And there’s no stereo system that can reproduce the sound of 18 000 people yelling “Hen-rik, Hen-rik, Hen-rik” before Alexander Ovechkin’s penalty shot.

Now, by the 14th shooter, the sound levels had come down to a more normal level and some of the more senior people actually sat down.

But there we were, Dad and I, standing up, looking around us, seeing the retired jerseys and the championship banners, and another Finn – Ville Nieminen – scoring a goal for the Rangers, and me getting goose bumps and almost crying for all these people cheering for my boy Ville, and at the same time sweating like a hog not so much out of excitement, but mostly because my new Rangers tuque was just too damn hot to be worn inside when it was Malik’s turn.

Dad had lost count of shooters, and I had just told him that it was the fifteenth shooter, and what an embarrassing way it was for a player to find out how low on the list of shooters he was, when Malik took the puck and crossed the blueline in one stride. He went from left to right, pulled the puck back, and shot it past Olaf Kolzig with his stick between his legs.

And typing this, I realize how belittling that sentence was. That description of the goal is … it’s an insult.

(Check out this video:)

It’s like calling Ovechkin a decent player, Crosby a promising young lad, Forsberg kind of competitive or Sami Kapanen pretty fast.

Or Madison Square Garden just another rink.

I think I’m in love.