Taking my son to a Rangers game

Last night at the Kitchener Memorial Auditorium, the Kitchener Rangers faced the Sudbury Wolves in OHL hockey action. As always on a Friday night, every seat was filled and the building was buzzing.

Though no one would have noticed, a man with an 11-day moustache and a brutal head cold led his six- year-old son up the stairs, to the very last row of seats in the building. It was the first time the father had ever taken his son to watch a hockey game.

We were sitting next to a very young couple, their baby and a portable car seat beside them on the floor. A father and his son, who looked like veterans of Friday night hockey games, sat on the other side of us. I hoped they would all tolerate some coughing and a bit of seat kicking from the two jokers in the neighbouring seats.

My son became thirsty immediately, so we left our seats in search of water and the popcorn “with lots of butter” he had asked for all week long. Returning to our seats, I was surprised to realize that the baby beside us was a very lifelike doll! The young couple was either practicing to be parents or perhaps were the strangest people in the building that night.

After a nice Remembrance Day ceremony and the singing of the national anthem, the game began. In the first minute of play, my son turned to me and said, “Daddy, this is boring.” He either expected players to shoot out of cannons while a laser show lit up the air or he was testing me and I highly suspected the latter. I chose to ignore the comment and my son settled in and seemed to enjoy the action on the ice.

The Rangers scored the game’s first goal on a power play and my son covered his ears when the crowd roared. The noise had obviously overwhelmed the “baby” who awoke from its sleep and its mother was now feeding it a bottle, all of which I pretended not to notice.

I had asked my son to see if he could make the water bottle last the entire game, but midway through the first period I saw it was nearly gone and I couldn’t help but think the popcorn was at least partially to blame.

He asked me during the second period if he could get a souvenir and I told him that the program I purchased on the way in was his souvenir, but he was clearly unimpressed. I realized then that the program hadn’t been a great idea and told him we could see what else was available between periods.

At the souvenir store a Kitchener Rangers flag caught his eye and we returned to our seats so he could wave it in every direction, nearly hitting people and lifelike dolls on all sides of us. The flag had to be confiscated, but flag waving was replaced by a hearty cheer of “Let’s go Rangers!” from my son that, surprisingly, didn’t catch on in our section.

The Rangers won 4-3 and we left happy. My son couldn’t stop talking about the game or the experience on the drive home and it made me smile.

Years from now, we can refer to the program and say we saw players like Matia Marcantuoni before they played in the NHL and I’ll remind him that Ryan Murphy, perhaps the most talented player on the team, had been out with an injury that night.

I doubt my son will remember any of the details of his first Rangers game, but he’ll remember that we went together. I’ll remember that I had a horrible cold that under any other circumstance would have caused me to cancel my plans. But as long as I was breathing, I wasn’t going to cancel that game. It just meant too much to miss.

To both of us.