The Moving on Ice Hockey

Let me start by thanking everyone who made this blog successful, popular and fun over the past three seasons, especially Mark and Ben for their efforts.  It’s been a labor of love, a demonstration of my devout fan hood, obsession and addiction to Quintilian Hockey.  As I approach my 9th season of not missing a Q U home game, I sit stunned and taken aback realizing the growth of the program, the fan base, the recruitment and Bobcat Hockey as a whole.

I’ve talked at great length in the past about the friendships that I’ve gained since attending and “covering” games.  These are meaningful and lasting.  From the NIP to the Bank has certainly been an eventful journey for the team and for myself.  I have welcomed a baby.  I  have moved from dorm to apartment to another apartment and finally to my home.  I got married.  Some guests at that wedding were lifelong friends made, ironically enough, on a Q U hockey bus ride to Harvard.

We compiled a Top 20 Bobcats of the first decade of the 21st century list.  We have covered, interviewed and followed, quite proudly, Bobcat alumni as they ventured into the world of professional hockey.  We have traveled as a cohort to many rinks in and out of the EC AC wearing our Bobcat gold proudly, long before a national title game was even a thought.  Let it be known, the fandom will not end.  The donning of our blue and gold won’t stop but the coverage has run its course.

Along the way, however, I became blacklisted to a certain extent because, well, I was a little too opinionated during a rough stretch of play.  I accepted this, altered my approach, and went on covering the team I love.  Recently, a small but similar event occurred.  While it would be easy to shrug it off and file it under the “can’t make them all happy” category, I simply can’t.  Back when things weren’t exactly gravy and FT N T TB wasn’t on the best of terms with the brass at the Q it was tough receiving sideways stares walking into a venue that I held, and still hold, so near and dear.

It was even harder when those stares were coming from some people whose opinion mattered.  The labor of love turned into a exhausting game of second guessing and self-censoring, even at times when I truly felt I was right.  I just don’t feel like doing it again.  I concede.  I now look forward to a season where every time our beloved Bobcats score.

I don’t have to scramble for my phone to tweet the score, faster than anyone else in the Twitter sphere might I add.  I can’t say if the site and Twitter handle will be picked up by another staffer.  For some loyal followers who can’t make it to games and for those incoming recruits who are often seen poking around, I hope someone will consider picking up where I’ve left off.  See you all around the Bank.

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