When he looks back to that day, there is only one memory he cherishes: the memory of his father.
When his father, an academic who enjoyed physics over sports, asked his 14-year-old son where he would like to go for their much anticipated day of father-son bonding, the young boy didn’t hesitate.
“An Islanders game.”
Inwardly, the father cringed. Attending a professional sporting event was one thing. Going to a hockey game — where adult men get into full-blown fistfights — was quite another. It was not his definition of an ideal evening out.
Yet he’d given his son his word, and if that meant heading to the Coliseum to watch the New York Islanders, so be it.
When they arrived, the boy realized they had front-row seats, right next to the penalty box. Yet as they settled in, the protective plexiglass shield in front of them curbed his feeling of really being at the game.
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