"Well I'd say maybe Dupuis, Eaton or Staal, but all of the guys could do with some more love, so it's up to you."

After a quick round of eenie, meenie, miney, mo between the jerseys displayed in front of me, I pointed out my winner - number 11, Staal. A small argument ensued when Lucy refused to let me pay for it so I threatened to just leave the shop with nothing. When she insisted that Max was paying, because he felt everyone needed to love the Penguins, we were back out into the hustle of bodies with only a small frown over my features.

"Should I be scared about Max? I mean, I haven't even met him yet, and already he's buying me off? Seems a little dodgy to me," I laughed along with my roomie.

"He is a bit strange, but I'm sure you'll love him."

I was more than surprised when she kept leading me closer and closer towards the ice. We were just off center, behind the player's bench when Lucy finally stopped, pointing to two empty seats three rows back from the glass.

"Wow," was all I could breathe out. Never, in all the times I'd hoped to attend a game, had I imagined being this close to the action. I knew these tickets were nowhere near cheap, even worse when I converted the price back into New Zealand dollars.

Lucy just laughed at me while she pushed me past the few people sitting between our seats and us.

Taking my seat, it was hard to look away from the ice. Bodies moving gracefully, pucks flying towards the nets, the occasional clang when one missed it's target and hit iron or glass. The atmosphere was tense, but electric. I loved it.

"I thought we were meeting Max?" I questioned, motioning to the seats occupied by older women either side of us.

Lucy nodded, her eyes trained on the players as they made their way back to the changing rooms while the ice was cleared once more to prepare for the start of play. "Yea, he's working at the moment. We're going down to meet him after the game."

I took that as meaning he worked for the Penguins, or at least in the arena, but decided it wasn't worth bringing up. I'd meet him when I met him, and until then I had a hockey game to become absorbed in.

I never realised just how much happens before a game. Back home when I'd watch games on TV, they'd have commentators talking on screen basically right up until the first puck drop. But being here, there was so much more. Obviously the teams had to return to the ice, the announcer making a great deal of fuss over this being Game Two of the Eastern Conference quarterfinals. When the opposition took the ice, booing surrounded us. Lucy explained that the Penguins/Flyers rivalry was probably the biggest in the NHL, and being thus would make it an extremely tense game. That information made me even more excited. To me, there was nothing better than pure aggression on a sports field. In rugby I loved seeing guys tackled and being flung backwards by the impact. With hockey, there were the big hits into the glass that held the same mesmerising impact. And, of course, there was always the possibility of a good fight or two in hockey, not that they didn't occur occasionally in rugby.

Once the national anthem had been sung and we were back into our seats there was no delay in getting the game started. As Lucy predicted, the game was tense, but fairly even.

The play was a lot quicker than I remembered; I was barely able to keep my eyes on one guy for more than a second before the puck was shovelled off to someone else. It only took about five minutes for me to get into the swing of things though. I was soon following the puck with ease, trying to anticipate passes, hits or takeaways.

During the breaks in play I studied the players, quickly identifying the Staal I was showing support for. He seemed like a pretty decent player in the few shifts I watched him, but then again, he'd have to be talented to be playing at this level.

By the end of the period the Flyers had managed to score on a power play, much to the frustration and annoyance of those around us. I knew it was too early to start getting carried away and disappointed however. This was a game that could quickly turn a score around, and it seemed as if the Penguins had the skill to do so.

Sipping on beers that Lucy had ventured off for during the intermission, I couldn't help but spurt out my feelings on the game so far, and how interesting it was to see the interaction on the bench. I told her how I recognised a few of the names, leading me to tell the tale of how I first discovered hockey.

The break was soon over, the second period flying by in a flurry of chances, concluding with a tying goal, just minutes before the end. The third was just as action packed, the Flyers going back in front after barely two minutes. It was a long wait for the Penguins second goal, but it was well worth it. Coming on a power play, a hard shot redirected off Malkin's knee was a beautiful thing to watch.

Everyone in the arena was on the edge of their seats for the remaining few minutes of regulation, but the score remained tied. It took until the final few minutes of overtime, on a two man advantage for the Pens to crack the goal line. When Guerin scored the place went crazy.

"Wow," I mused to Lucy once the crowd had settled down a bit and I could hear myself think again. "I can see why you like these guys. Crosby, Malkin and Fleury definitely deserve all the love they get, but I'm pretty happy I picked this Staal guy."