Good Night of Good Luck
One of those strange, lucky nights, when I had hockey on the brain. I ducked out to get a coffee around 4:30, and rather than zip over to my favorite Dunkin’ Donuts paradise, I stopped at the local Starbucks anticipating 10 minutes with the newspaper, something artery-hardening from the bakery case, and a short coffee break (literally).
As I turned with my guilty goodies, I ran into Scott Stevens, in line behind me. I double-checked, did a double take, and sat down with my paper. What should I say? “Thanks” for some spectacular hockey? “Good luck” with his coaching, parenting and other post-first-career activities? I simply took the Stevens sighting as a good luck omen.
Three hours later, my son connected on a 100-to-1 shot at our annual hockey fundraiser dinner, winning a Patrik Elias autographed stick that he wanted (perhaps more than his dinner). It’s significantly better than the basket of shampoo products that I usually seem to drag home from these events. A good night was had by all.