It was a plain brown padded envelope.
It was late October, 2018, I had already started treatments for my Stage III colorectal cancer, and I was already learning about how people are inherently good. There’s a lot in this world that we can change and will make you upset, and a lot that will divide us. Yet the moment I let folks know about my diagnosis, a lot of those differences melted away. People seemed to want to do everything they could to imbue my life with good vibes as I would undergo an hours-long
chemo treatment every other week for the first few months. It floors me to this day the kindness of these people and it’s a debt that I feel like I’ll never fully repay. I had gotten multiple gifts from folks sending me a little slice of home or humor to my little apartment in Boston, and here was another one with an address from a fellow UNC alumnus Joey Powell.
When opened, I discovered a beautiful black third jersey inside. It was in my size, and I just stood there mouth agape. I reached out to him explaining how I couldn’t put into words my thanks, and it was there he revealed the work that went into it. He enlisted a fraternity brother—Connie Sawyer—in coyly getting my jersey size and address. He then reached out and got Mike Maniscalco—at the time the on-ice reporter for the Canes—to get his hands on one, then sent it my way.
That jersey was immediately worn at my next infusion. I needed that act of kindness to remind me to look at the light when it comes. Now seven years cancer free and almost eight since that one gift this Stanley Cup win has a completely different meaning than 2006.
My fandom is one with many twists and turns. My first game was in Greensboro on December 26th, 1997—a 5-2 loss to the Florida Panthers. I couldn’t tell you much about that game except that it was Christmas Break, the ticket was cheap, I went with a good friend from high school, and I enjoyed it enough to want to go back. I saw plenty of games from that point forward, in Greensboro and in Raleigh thanks to the student ticket deals. I got my hands on tickets for the first game in Raleigh and arrived late because they couldn’t figure out traffic at the arena yet. I went to the game where you got a free ticket for going because of the two feet of snow. I attended their first playoff win in Raleigh with my best friend after Ron Francis had been knocked out the game prior and the Canes pulled off an overtime stunner.
I took my future wife to a game, where she always reminds me that the best thing I did was just tell her to ask me if she had any questions and then shut up to let her enjoy.
The turns happen shortly after that as by the time of the 2006 Stanley Cup Run, we were living in Texas and this was before social media. Thus, we were really on an island. I cheered at the run, celebrated it, but really it was by myself. For the 2009 run it was a little different as we had moved to Boston, and that series against the Bruins gave me some coworkers to chat with, but again left me alone on an island. Then the dark times.
I’d check in with the Canes during that time, but when you weren’t living in North Carolina it didn’t make a lot of sense to pay for the right to watch games. It took the guys that ran the now-gone Section 328 podcast to finally make me feel connected again. I was lucky enough to know those folks through my best friend and the improv group that some were in, and just listening to a couple folks talk Hurricanes hockey when you couldn’t get coverage anywhere else but sites like this one made me feel connected. Someone else from that group had moved up to the Boston area, and we had even gone to a Canes game together in Boston—and I quickly decided to never do that again after the 6-2 loss.
I was dialed back in though. A trip back to North Carolina would include a visit to see the Canes. I have several Homegrown Series posters and T-shirts. I was there on January 12, 2018 which was the day after Tom Dundon bought the team and the day the press conference was held. My wife and I had tickets in 328, and we were all greeted with “HAPPY DUNDON DAY!” The Canes celebrated by giving up a game winning goal to the Capitals with two seconds left.
Little did I know that would begin a climb for the players on the ice and for ourselves as fans.
May 25, 2021.
Mask on, about six weeks freshly vaccinated, I stepped into PNC Arena for the first time since Dundon Day. By that point so much had already changed with the team transitioning to where playoffs were expected and fans were begging to be let into the building in that weird season where crowds were slowly being allowed back in. It was also my first post-cancer visit. The opponent was the Nashville Predators and the first round series was tied at two.
I had scored lower level tickets facing the bench and was joined by my wonderful wife who was fully bought in. When the clock counted down and The Scorpions blared over the speakers I broke down in tears. The game hadn’t even started yet but I had made it. Three years prior I had a tumor and didn’t even know it, and now I was back home and in person to see this Canes team as one that was expected to win.
As if I needed any other reason for it to be memorable, that was the game Jordan Staal scored in overtime to give Carolina a 3-2 series lead, a lead they wouldn’t relinquish. The scream that erupted from my throat probably still hasn’t been matched since. I was home, and all of this energy I had spent over the past couple of decades could finally be spent cheering this team on in person.
Then after all the disappointments and in-person memories since, I somehow became a member of the media. The wonderful leader of this site Bob Wage brought me on thanks to the recommendation of another writer, Evan Davis. My thoughts as a fan had an outlet beyond the rambling on social media, and I was thrilled with how welcomed I was. It still boggles my mind you’re reading this.
Starting at the very end of last season and continuing to this year I became exposed to the other side of this team—the media that covers it. Sixteen times between the pre and post season this year I was able to sit on the fifth floor of Lenovo Center. I met the wonderful Cory Lavalette, Ryan Henkel, and Kurt Dusterberg who grind away at that perch and provide the background that we all read. They gave me the ultimate gift—respect. I did what I could to not be in their way and to not interrupt the job they are just so good at. I’ve learned so much about hockey and have such a bigger appreciation for the grind of covering a team thanks to just this miniscule amount of time spent up there. I also saw Chip Alexander continue to do his thing and the relationships he has in the locker room connected me more to his writing.
So when I see the book that Cory is going to publish on the season, or read a gamer by Kurt, or watch the videos that Ryan put out after each game, I have at least a small idea of the work that each of them put into getting that out. I know how hard they’ve worked and to see them be rewarded with these opportunities I know that once they get some sleep, they’ll have a chance to reflect on how amazing it was. I may not see them again until next season, but I’ll be eager to hear about it.
I got to also finally meet Adam Gold in person, and he’s been kind enough to respect my voice and ask my opinion about what I see. Maybe it’s knowing that I’m still a full-on fan that it allows for a great back-and-forth. The post-game Canes Corner Podcasts I did this season are still surreal. I also got to get to know Mike Maniscalco a little bit better, and it was he on the first morning skate I went to against Detroit who boomed over the rest of the reporters “Hey, you don’t have to sit by yourself, come over here.” I have yet to meet a person who has a bad thing to say about Mike the person. Knowing the grind he’s gone through in the dark years and being thrust into the position he is now, reaffirms my believe that you get out of this world what you put into it. The amazing thing about Mike is while I’m sure he’s happy for himself, he’s probably happier for Tripp Tracy who got to see this in person and be on the microphone.
This season provided more moments than most people get in a lifetime. I cannot express just how amazing it was to watch the game and learn about the media side, while also still getting to go as a fan and watch the Canes win games like the amazing victory over the Dallas Stars in January. I got to be at one game of each of the Eastern Conference Playoff series—the NHL controls the Stanley Cup—and each one was memorable. Game One against Ottawa was the Staal/Tkachuk fight. Game One against Philadelphia was the ABC Saturday Night broadcast where Carolina just dominated the Flyers and I got to ask Rod Brind’Amour about the “high stick” penalty against Martinook. Game Two against Montreal was the overtime thriller to fight back against the rust in Game One. It was also the only morning skate of the playoffs I attended where I was able to see the joy radiating off K’Andre Miller who was still basking in being a new dad. I talked with Leah Hextall who was perhaps one of the nicest people you’d ever meet, and got to not only tell Eddie Olczyk thank you for the way he’s openly spoken about his cancer fight, but also get his opinion on the spear on Miller.
The tears that streamed from my eyes as Nikolaj Ehlers potted the empty net goal and as I hugged my wife were the culmination of all that. A perfect season with an amazing set of memories culminating in the perfect way—seeing this squad win a Stanley Cup and doing so in the place I call home. I not only got to experience that joy but I have a part in chronicling it, and I got to do so thanks to the extraordinary kindness of many.
I hope if you’re reading this one of the things you’re doing is letting those memories sink in. Not just of the the win but of the experiences you had getting there—whether you’re one of those original Greensboro fans or just hopped on this season. Every year only one group of fans gets to experience this, and some fans haven’t ever experienced it or haven’t in a long time. Cherish the moments, let them soak in, and remind yourself this is why you invested your heart, energy, and soul into the Hurricanes.
You’ll be amazed at how long those moments stick with you and might just inspire you to offer a little kindness of your own.
