Yesterday was just one of those cool days when I ran
into people I haven't seen for a while (but hadn't
been avoiding). Walking down Broadway in the Big
Apple, I ran into "C" (identity hidden to preserve
her privacy), who is the executive assistant to
a major hockey executive. She stopped; she talked;
she asked about my son. A complete dose of hockey
in a New York minute. "C" exemplifies the
person you want on your right hand -- she's probably
the only person other than the commissioner who talks
to every owner, writer, official or fan, and she does
it with a smile.
On the way back from the city, I stopped at South Mountain Arena to pick up this year's hockey schedule. Saw some higer-end cars secured in the Devils parking area, and on the way out, I ran into Scott Gomez, who came over to offer greetings. I haven't seen Scott since the Devils won the Stanley Cup in 2003, when he had to suffer through my golf game at a charity event later that summer. He stopped; he talked; he asked about my son. Like Patrik Elias, he's the epitome of an ambassador for the sport. And he does it in a New York minute, conveyed in New Jersey.