It was a frigid and windy night in Newark on Wednesday. With the wind blowing in my face after walking out of the automatic rotating door at the airport, I had one mission in mind: Get to the game. The plane arrived right on time, and I had plenty of time to get to the Prudential Center, but the excitement was swelling up like a nasty bruise from a hard slapshot or an aggressive slash. It was hard to contain the giddiness that I found sitting in my chest.
Any time the chance to watch live hockey arises, that feeling of excitement makes its presence well known.