Plain and simple.

I’m writing this within an hour of watching the Washington Capitals defeat the expansion Vegas Golden Knights and take home the Stanley Cup for the first time in their franchise’s history. It’s a monumental feat and one that should be celebrated for a team that has known nothing but heartbreak and frustration as they’ve chased that goal, and as a fan of the sport I am excited for all they’ve accomplished this season.

This isn’t going to be a story about a sports fan’s experience with watching their team lose a championship. Instead, I’m taking a moment to look at the sport on the whole, and why I think it’s got the most affect on me. For starters, let’s acknowledge that I had no real business falling for the sport in the first place. I’m a kid from the American southwest, splitting time between Las Vegas and Los Angeles, where everywhere I looked it was beach sports, baseball, and Kobe Bryant for as long as I can remember. Sure, there were fans of the various college teams, and yes, the Kings and Ducks had their footing, but it never really stuck or lasted with me. It wasn’t until my high school girlfriend said we were going to the local Vegas ECHL team for her birthday when I truly saw the game on ice for the first time.

The Las Vegas Wranglers played at the Orleans Arena, a smallish venue attached to a locals casino. In the wider world of hockey, this league was 2 levels below the NHL…but I didn’t care. It was fast. That’s what I remember more than anything. Those players sped along the ice in ways I didn’t realize was possible. And sure, it was rough and tumble, and given the smaller nature of the arena it was far too easy for fans to heckle the visiting players in the penalty box. (I distinctly remember a shorter player getting called a hobbit.) The concessions were cheap and the arena was colder than anything else I had been to for a sporting event.

I was hooked.

The rules were wasted on me. The players were complete strangers. The crowd was voracious. Didn’t matter. None of that mattered. I knew this was the sport for me. More than baseball, the sport I just couldn’t keep up with as kid. More than football, the sport that just didn’t have a foothold in my home as much as the others. More than basketball, the sport where I could never make a layup if I tried (and still can’t). Nope, I wanted this sport. The fast one on ice that didn’t make any sense. That was the one for me.

I fueled my love for the sport during the recovery of a breakup, using my newfound free time to really understand the games I watched beyond “oh look, the Sharks are winning. Cool.” And after moving to New York I started regularly attending games when the Sharks were in town, typically dragging along a friend who would listen to me describe random bits of rules and trivia I’d gleaned,even if I didn’t fully understand it all myself at times. They’d cheer with me, we’d drink some beers and eat arena food, and on the whole have a great night. I caved and bought the online viewing package so I could watch the Sharks broadcasts, often staying up far later on the east coast for a 7:30 puck drop in the Pacific Time Zone. Maybe it just meant that after all of this time I finally had my “thing” outside of work, but whatever. It felt right, and I liked it.

For the past 10 years or so, hockey’s been a source of comfort. Even though it’s an exciting game, I’ve enjoyed it as a centering presence and escape; it’s the thing I turn to that takes my mind away from whatever else life has thrown at me. Just ask my wife, who on more than one occasion has dutifully woken me up after I get home late, turn on the game, and promptly fall asleep on the couch during the second period without complaint. The fact that the hockey community is juuuuuust small enough to develop a sense of camaraderie almost immediately means I’m always able to find someone to share a game with too, even if it’s just a stranger at a bar. I’ve touched on it before, but I derive so much joy in fandom due to the level of community that comes with being a fan. By my sheer devotion, I belong.

Hockey is a sport with plenty of barriers to access. There are hurdles financially, environmentally, you name it. The NHL has certainly tried their hardest to expand into non-traditional markets with various levels of success, but I have a feeling that even if they only stuck teams in cities like Albuquerque, San Antonio, or Shreveport, you can only count on a few fans like me stumbling onto the sport and truly latching on the way I did. And it’s because of all of these barriers that make the story of the Vegas so impressive. The Golden Knights pulled off so many incredible things this season both on and off the ice. They galvanized a city into a fan base and community far quicker than I think anyone could’ve expected, and that’s incredible. All it takes is one quick spin through my Twitter feed or my Facebook timeline to prove that what that team brought to my hometown is more than a flash in the pan, and that’s exciting to see. As someone who loves this sport, nothing could make me happier than knowing how that joy is being spread around so many people I care about. I’m so proud of what that team accomplished in the past year, and can’t wait to see what their future holds.

This sport’s the one I love the most. I love watching it. I love pretending I know how to play it. I love taking people I care about to games and hoping they get a fraction of the enjoyment I get from it so that we can share in that experience. And when my team doesn’t win it all I do everything I can to remember all of the highs hockey has brought me, and remember all the sport can do beyond the 60 minutes on the ice.