I'm Nathaniel Smith. I'm a 23-year-old African American from the Big Apple. I love basketball, I love baseball, and I love football.
But there is a special spot in my heart for hockey.
I know, a black guy, loving hockey? Crazy. But let me explain.
I grew up in Southern Queens, an area that is not your typical hotbed for hockey fandom. Typically on Sundays after church, my aunt, uncle, and myself usually sat on the couch and watched Knicks games, which of course was a lot of fun in the '90s. But hockey was not a big part of my early life.
Then 1994 happened.
I have only one vivid memory of that year. It's not one of Knicks center Patrick Ewing waving his hands to the heavens after a tough series against the Indiana Pacers. It's not even the excruciating series against the Houston Rockets, where the Knicks blew their only chance to win a title in that era (sorry folks, the Knicks had no chance in 1999 against the twin towers of Tim Duncan and David Robinson).
It's the sound that erupted from WFAN's Howie Rose's mouth as New York Rangers left winger Stephanie Matteau scored the game-winning goal against the New Jersey Devils in double overtime of game seven of the Eastern Conference Finals.
"MATTEAU! MATTEAU!"
Just like that, my 5-year-old mind was intrigued. But my interest waxed and waned. With a sport with few superstars that looked like me, it was honestly hard for a young, impressionable person like myself to love the game.
Enter Jarome Iginla.
He was everything one would want in a star. He was quick. He was tremendous with the stick, with quick dekes that would leave defenders in awe, and a slapshot that was nearly impossible to stop on a good day. He was a leader. He loved his country of Canada and loved his teammates, and that love was reciprocated.
More importantly, he was black.
In a game that is dominated by Caucasian athletes, it was refreshing to see a guy like Iginla not only hold his own in the NHL, but also dominate games.
With Iginla as my hero, I watched the NHL in awe. I loved the big hits, the sick goals, and the even more impressive saves. I fell in love.
It's a love that persists to this day. It's refreshing to me to see players like the Philadelphia Flyers' Wayne Simmonds and the Winninpeg Jets' Dustin Byfuglien grace the ice, giving hope to kids like I once was, that maybe they also can play ice hockey at a professional level.
With all that said, I always get weird looks when I tell people that I love hockey, or when I strongly proclaim that the best sports tournament in the world is the NHL playoffs. Sometimes it seems as if people expect me to talk about just basketball or football, and that I shouldn't talk hockey because I'm not as well-versed in the sport as I am with football.
It's a weird life. I come to a hockey-crazed town such as Buffalo, and it's an amazing city, but I feel unworthy to give my hockey two cents to locals. When I go home to NYC, there are few people in my neighborhood that could even name a single player in the league.
So I stand in hockey fan purgatory. And that's okay.
I still love this game.
Email: nathaniel.smith@ubspectrum.com
