Hey!

Oh my god, I’m so glad I found you. I was starting to get worried. The game is about to start, and there’s no way I could even begin to pay attention until I found the one. The one other person of color at this hockey game, that is. You see, it’s a rule that we have to find each other before the puck drops. We have to make intense eye contact but share no words. We have to assure each other with a look that says “You’re not alone” and “Don’t worry, I’ve got your back.” Because when someone shouts something alarmingly racist during the national anthem, we have to be able to find each with wide eyes that say “What the actual fuck is going on?”

During the first intermission, we should meet by the bathroom near section 112 to check in on each other. Maybe we can even grab a giant pretzel. Silently, of course. That’s the key to this relationship. No words, all eyes.

It’s a shame, because I would love to know how you ended up here. Is it anything like my story? Was it an attempt to find a new hobby in your thirties that didn’t involve leaving your couch? A deep depression that made watching shows like Love Island and Survivor impossible? Were you as bored of Deuxmoi as I was and decided you’d rather hear hockey gossip? Or was it the endless TikToks about hot hockey players that made you finally look into what the fuss was all about?

Maybe you just started a job at a company where your boss proudly announced the end of DEI, and you felt the need to become an expert in the whitest activity imaginable. If that’s the case, I’m so sorry. Because the whitest activity imaginable is rowing. But hockey is a pretty close second or third, so maybe it will still work out in your favor.

More likely, judging by your lack of team paraphernalia, you got dragged here by your friends and don’t know a single thing about hockey. In which case, I wish I could tell you about some of my favorite parts. For example, when a player breaks a rule that involves physically hurting someone, they’ll get put in the penalty box, or what I like to call “hockey jail.” Hockey is the one sport where a white man will get put in jail for breaking a rule. It might only be for two to five minutes, but hey, that’s longer than Ted Kennedy got.

It’s funny, isn’t it? Willingly putting yourself in this potentially hostile environment because you simply must watch grown men slam each other into the boards up close.

We better hurry, the next period is about to start. I really do hope you enjoy the game. And who knows, maybe I’ll see you at the next one. Just remember the rule, and you’ll be fine. But if something goes wrong, find me in the crowd and blink twice. I’ll drop my Dippin’ Dots and come to your rescue.

See you on the ice,
Sahar