Hockey is a metaphor for life, and that has been said hundreds of times.  What is it about this game—this unimportant, simple, joyous, silly game—that brings grown men to tears and strangers to hugs?

As far as sports are concerned, hockey is the greatest.  The parity, the gumption, the skates, the surface, the overtime, the game 7; it’s a beautiful, take-your-breath-away spectacle.  But that’s all it is.  An entertainment spectacle.  It’s unimportant in the grand scheme of life.

So some would say.  

Hockey, like so many other things, brings strangers and friends together for a common goal.  We applaud its humble, hardworking players and root for the underdog and a good, fair, hard fought series as much as anything else.  And when the team we all root for succeeds, our friendships and routines are extended a few more games, a few more weeks.  See you next Tuesday at the bar or at your house so we can carry on our traditions, our culture.

When the team loses, an empty feeling emerges in its place.  True, hockey will always be there to watch.  The replays are well-documented.  But that feeling of community—beers and jerseys and quarrels between friends over who should be traded and chants and hugs and brotherhood and camaraderie—disappears. It hurts.  And it takes some time to replace, but you never can simply “replace” it, anyway.  The end of a season could signify the end of an era, on and off the ice.  By the time next season starts, things might be different.

But we all know that next fall, the puck will drop again.  We will look forward to the next handful of months, because we know the routine now.  With the turning leaves comes training camp and opening night. With each season we inch a little closer to a stronger community that may not need hockey as much as it once did, but sees families and children and husbands and wives enter the equation in its place.  And we will pass the torch and smile and wink to one another, and we will gather around our TV sets and computers with the ones we love and the ones we’ll grow to love and say, “This is the year, boys.”