Raised at the rink: lessons from growing up as a hockey gal

You might be a hockey girl if...

• You've been told, "Wow, you actually know hockey," more times than any person should have to hear.
• Your family vacations somehow were always put on hold to watch a big game, much to your family’s dismay.
• You've defended your favorite team's third-line winger like he was a member of your family.
• You still remember the heartbreak of a trade that happened years ago.
• You can tell when someone is pretending to know hockey.

If you're nodding along, welcome. You're among friends.

Some girls grew up spending their weekends at the mall. I grew up spending mine at a hockey rink.

For as long as I can remember, hockey has been part of my life. My family had season tickets to the Wilkes-Barre/Scranton Penguins, the AHL Minor League Affiliate team to the Pittsburgh Penguins, before I could even understand what icing was. Some of my earliest memories involve walking into the arena, hearing the buzz of the crowd, watching players take warmups, and feeling like there was nowhere else in the world I'd rather be. 

Some of my childhood milestones are tied to hockey rather than the usual things people remember. Before starting grade school, I had already written and illustrated countless stories that all revolved around the players, as if they were my close personal friends. My poor mother who had to write out the stories since I could not yet write, probably thought her young hockey-obsessed daughter was crazy. In kindergarten, I could name every player on the Wilkes-Barre/Scranton Penguins roster and knew their jersey numbers by heart. One day on the school bus, a group of eighth grade boys started quizzing me, convinced there was no way a little girl could know the answers. One by one, they rattled off player numbers, and one by one, I gave them the correct names. By the end, they had stopped laughing and started looking impressed.

At the time, I didn't think much of it. Looking back, it may have been my first experience proving that hockey knowledge doesn't belong to one type of fan.

Another one of my earliest hockey memories stems from when I had received my “own money” for the first time. In 2007, I lost my first tooth and eagerly received $5 under my pillow.

However, my first Tooth Fairy money didn't go toward candy or toys. Instead, I knew exactly where it was meant to go.

Months before, former Penguins player, fan favorite Darcy Robinson passed away less than 3 minutes into the opening game of his season on his new team in Italy. Robinson collapsed to the ice without being hit, suffering a heart attack. He was pronounced dead before he reached the hospital. At the time of his death, Robinson was 26 years old. I was absolutely gutted to learn of this as a 6-year-old. I took my $5 and used it to sign a memorial banner honouring Darcy that still hangs in Wilkes-Barre’s arena today. I was too young to fully understand the impact of that moment, but I remember wanting to contribute, wanting to be part of the hockey community that was grieving together.

Even then, hockey felt bigger than a game.

Growing up as a hockey girl means your year revolves around the hockey calendar. The schedule release is an event. Free agency is a holiday. The trade deadline is somehow stressful, even though you have absolutely no control over it.

It means knowing exactly where your lucky jersey is before a big game. It means texting your friends and family during intermission like you're part of the coaching staff. It means explaining for the hundredth time that yes, hockey is actually very easy to follow once you give it a chance. In fact, I was able to convince my grandmother to become the most loyal hockey fan I know, by explaining the game to her at 5 years old. Today, she still has her season tickets and travels with the team’s booster club to away games.

One thing I've come to appreciate as I've gotten older is how lucky I was. My family never treated hockey as something unusual for me to love. They never told me it was "for boys" or questioned why I cared so much. They bought the tickets, listened to my endless player facts, and encouraged every part of my hockey obsession. To them, I wasn't a girl who loved hockey, I was just a kid who loved hockey.

The world outside my family wasn't always as welcoming. As I got older, I encountered plenty of people who assumed I couldn't possibly know as much as they did, who treated my fandom like a novelty, or who seemed to think I needed to earn my place in hockey conversations. Those moments could be frustrating, but they also pushed me to become more confident in my voice and my knowledge. Ironically, those experiences helped prepare me for the career I have today. I now work in sports and entertainment, where I regularly collaborate with teams, leagues, and industry professionals. The little girl who got quizzed on player numbers eventually built a career in the sports world she loved so much – and that's something younger me would think is pretty cool.

Today, I can attribute my entire career to hockey because somehow, without realising it, the sport starts shaping you.

Hockey taught me loyalty.

Any fan can support a team when they're winning. Hockey fans learn to stick around during losing streaks, coaching changes, heartbreaking playoff exits, and those seasons that make you stare at the standings wondering what exactly is happening. You learn to keep showing up anyway. One example of this was when I was 7 years old and was hysterically crying over my favorite all time player, Colby Armstrong, being traded. I spent a better part of that time dedicating break up songs to him because that is the only way I could explain my deep hurt. Fast forward to a year later, the Pittsburgh Penguins won their first Stanley Cup in my lifetime in 2009, probably thanks to the help of the players Armstrong had been traded for. I guess I forgive them…sort of.

Hockey also taught me community.

Some of my favorite hockey memories have very little to do with the final score. They're about the familiar faces who sat in the same seats every game. The ushers who watched me grow up. The friendships formed because someone noticed a logo on a sweatshirt or struck up a conversation in line for concessions.

There's something special about hockey fans. We can spend three hours yelling at a referee together and leave feeling like we've known each other forever.

And then there's the part every hockey girl knows well.

Being underestimated.

Growing up, I was often one of the few girls in hockey conversations. Sometimes people assumed I was there because someone brought me. Sometimes they acted surprised when I knew the roster, the prospects, or the statistics.

For a while, it felt like I had to prove I belonged.

But eventually, you realise something important: hockey isn't a club you're trying to join. It's already yours.

You stop feeling the need to defend your knowledge. You stop trying to pass tests no one should be giving in the first place. You simply enjoy the sport because you love it.

That's one of the reasons I love seeing communities like Ice Hockey Gals continue to grow. More women are sharing their perspectives, creating content, building friendships, and showing younger fans that there isn't one way to be a hockey fan.

You can be the analytics girl. The jersey collector. The hockey romance reader. The prospect expert. The game-day photographer. The fan who just loves being in the building.

There's room for all of us.

The older I get, the more I realise hockey has influenced nearly every part of my life. It shaped my friendships. It gave me confidence. It introduced me to experiences I never would have had otherwise.

The little girl sitting in the stands at Wilkes-Barre/Scranton games could never have predicted exactly where life would take her. But she knew one thing for certain: She loved hockey.

And honestly, not much has changed. 

I still get excited when schedules are released. I still have opinions about line combinations that nobody asked for. I still find myself checking scores before checking the weather.

Because growing up as a hockey girl wasn't just about becoming a fan. It was about finding a community, a passion, and a place where I felt at home. And that's a feeling I'll carry with me long after the final horn.