Right at Home at the Igloo

To my beloved Devils, who I had ripped rather savagely in a post here just a few scant days ago, all I have to say is, “You’re Forgiven”.

Even you, Johnny Oduya, despite another brain cramp of a play that cost Marty his first shutout of the season.  It didn’t lose the game and it is Thanksgiving, so I’m feeling rather magnanimous.

The evening started off with my brother and I heading into Pittsburgh.  I chose to wear full Devils’ colors as I normally do.  My brother chose not to call a lawyer to keep on standby even though we were going to be in opposition territory and I was going to be hard to miss.

A quick ride up Routes 79 and then 279 led us to the Fort Pitt Tunnel which goes through a mountain and empties on to the bridge of the same name spanning the Monongahela River.  Being from the greater New York City area and having actually grown up just across the Hudson River, I’m no stranger to spectacular city vistas.  Even so, the view of the city of Pittsburgh on the right with the view of Heinz Field and PNC Park across the Alleghany River to the left, spanned by yellow bridges, upon exiting the tunnel never fails to take my breath away.  It apparently also leaves me prone to run-on sentences.

We parked at the Convention Center garage and walked a couple of blocks over to Mahoneys, a cozy pub, for a few pregame drinks.  While there wasn’t a Rocky marathon running this year complete with pub patrons quoting every line, we did run into two brothers there wearing Crosby and Malkin jerseys who were more than willing to engage in some hockey talk.  A few pints of Gunness (for me anyway), a cigar, and a conversation between the pub owner and my brother about life in the military later, we started the climb up the hill to the Mellon Arena, more affectionately known as the Igloo.

We took our seats amid some mild razzing from the Penguin faithful.  I just smiled and kept moving until I found myself right behind the glass along the sideboards.  In a mini “It’s a Small World” moment for me, the two brothers we had met at the bar were sitting in the next section over.  Go figure.

Despite having had a cigar, my voice was in fine form as I periodically let out a vocal cord stretching “LET’S GO DEVILS!!!!”, hanging on to the second syllable of Devils for emphasis.  It was amusing how quiet the section was behind me every time I did it.  One vs. seventeen thousand plus?  No problem.  I had been looking forward to this for over a month.  I wasn’t going to be denied.

The game started off with a bang as David Clarkson and Ryan Malone exchanged punches just after the puck was dropped.  The action continued to my liking as the Devils went up 1-0 on a Zach Parise goal and stayed that way through the end of the first period.  Mike went up to get some beer while I commisserated with the Penguins fans on how awful the officiating has been.

The second period saw no change in the score.  Marty was magnificent in goal, denying the Penguins again and again.  My voice stayed with me through the action, emboldened by the fact that my team was playing hard so, come what may, the ending would not be for lack of effort.  A fellow Devils fan a few rows back even joined in with my chanting periodically.  Mike went up this time to get some action shots with his high quality camera.  Being so close to the glass, my own camera was not up to the task.

The third period action was a bit choppy.  Penalties on both sides marred what had been a very entertaining hockey game to this point.  A second Zach Parise goal, several more mind-blowing saves by Marty, and time running down did have me feeling good though.  That is until Oduya struck…..twice.

It was pure irony that he’d get called for holding the stick of the opponent.  This from the same guy who seems to have problems holding on to his own stick.  Thankfully, the Devs weathered that storm even with the 30 second 5 on 3 advantages the Penguins had.  However, Oduya’s other moment in the spotlight (or was it the heat of my glare?) found him managing to hold on to his own stick but unable to hold on to the puck without even being touched.  The puck ended up on the stick of Evgeni Malkin, a man who actually knows what to do with it, who promptly deposited it in the goal to cut the lead to 2-1.  Goodbye shutout, hello tense race to the end.

It was at this point where I probably shredded my vocal cords trying to stem the rising tide of Penguins mania.  Each “LET’S GO DEVILS” chant came louder than the last as I watched the seconds tick down, the game mercifully ending before I passed out.  Refreshed and overjoyed, I banged on the glass and saluted my team as they left the ice.  We left the Igloo for a late meal at the Fish Market and then the ride back to the house.  My sister-in-law had been busy in our absence, putting up some Christmas lights on the bushes.  I noted with a smile that the lights were Devils red.  Oh what a night!