Knights on Ice—The Night My Wife Met My Girlfriend

In the fine movie Master and Commander, the character played by Russell Crowe makes a toast: “To wives and girlfriends. May they never meet.”

Well, I was hoping this night never would happen, as obviously, I didn’t want them to come face to face. It’s all Gary Bettman’s fault. He didn’t have to make them meet so soon.

You see, I’ve been with my wife since I was nine years old. It was an arranged marriage set up by my dad. He took me to meet her and it was love at first sight. She always wore just blue or white and she always looked amazing.

The relationship grew stronger and stronger to a point that I was totally committed. I saw her almost every day from October to April and if I was lucky, she’d stick around in New York until May—and even sometimes into June.

Through the years, we tried to have a child. We came close in 1972 and again in 1979. The frustration was immense. But I never gave up hope and I’m so happy I didn’t.

In October 1993, we went to a doctor, Mark Messier, who came highly recommended and whose success rate was outstanding. The entire nine months were a dream: We won the Presidents Cup, swept the hated NY Islanders, and quickly disposed of the Washington Capitals.

The last four weeks of the pregnancy were somewhat difficult, but I was with her on the road with my brother, traveling to games on Long Island and taking the train down to Washington to attend the games there. When the conference finals came against the despised NJ Devils, I needed support! So I bought a block of 10 tickets and with family and friends we went to NJ to cheer my wife on.

After the fifth game, NJ was ahead 3-2, needing only one more win in two games to once again deprive my wife and me of our first son. Dr. Messier met with us and assured us that this complication that we were experiencing was nothing to worry about and he guaranteed us that we would get past this Devil of a problem.

And he did that personally, taking full control of the impending problem. Somehow, when things were looking bleak, he came through. To be exact, he did so three times that night.

On Tuesday night, June 14, 1994, our first son was delivered by Dr. Messier. We named him Stanley. Now, my marriage to my wife, a. k. a. the NY Rangers, would last a lifetime.

In 2000, I left my wife to go live in Las Vegas. We not only remained married, but our long-distance relationship stayed as strong and faithful as ever, as I watched every game she played. I never missed a game and my love never wavered.

Then this amazing young amazing came out of nowhere. She didn’t wear blue; she wore armor. She was a Golden Knight.

Since I’d been without hockey for 17 years, I was an easy target to fall for her and I did. Of course, I knew deep down it was wrong, so I confessed to my Knight in shining armor that I could never leave my wife. I did tell my Golden Knight that I’d be there for her 80 of her 82 games, and last night was one of the games where I had no choice but to be with the mother of our son Stanley. There was never a doubt in my mind where my loyalty would be, though some of my long-time friends from New York City, and even some family members, thought I might have stopped bleeding blue.

It’s not easy being in love with two different women at the same time, but my Golden Knight fully understands. At least she claims to.

My next dilemma won’t happen until January 7, 2018, when my wife come to Las Vegas. She knows I’ll be at the airport to pick her up and be behind her 100%. This is what you do you’re loyal to someone you’ve been with since the tender age of nine, sharing the highs and lows together. Also, lest we forget, we’ll always be connected through our son Stanley, who is now 23 years old.

It was too much of an emotional night for me to write my blog about the game itself, so you’ll have to allow me a few hours to compose myself and I’ll have my report on the game by tomorrow.

Here’s a picture of our son on June 14, 1994, being held up by Adam Graves. That’s me over Adam’s right shoulder, with the baseball cap and mustache, proudly watching my son being lifted up and held high.