Blame Québec.

I've found most people familiar with ice hockey aren't surprised to learn I was converted by a diehard Montrealer.   Not only does Québec turn out wicked cool (and frequently handsome) players on a regular basis, they also turn out legions of hockey fans who pounce upon unsuspecting horse-racing fans with the enthusiasm of religious zealots.

I still recall when my descent into hockey fandom began. Said Montrealer was flailing over a Habs game and replied to my sigh with: "You are a hockey fan; you just don't know it yet." 

I got my start listening to Montreal Canadiens' games (the French radio version because I did not realize there was an English version for weeks...which I then switched back to a week later after realizing that hockey just wasn't the same in English) over the internet.  Through all of the French, names and personalities began to take shape:  Carey Price. Brian Gionta. Michael Cammalleri. Maxim Lapierre. PK Subban. Hal Gill and so on.  Names from other teams began to surface as well.  Styles of play. Rivalries. Slights. Fights. Etc.  I may not have understood all of the rules (I certainly did not understand all of the French), and I may not have had a background in the history of ice hockey, but I was already figuring out that Montreal was right.  Hockey told one hell of a story.  I hadn't even seen a game with my eyes, but I was hooked...like a child seated in front of a radio in the old days, envisioning a game I knew next to nothing about.  I needed to change that.

Finally in 2010 I attended my first real game. It was ECHL.  It didn't matter that my home team lost...the very next day I purchased season tickets.


And there you go.