taking my niece to her first ever game next season and i've appointed myself the keeper of this sacred duty, so i'm crowdsourcing wisdom from the in market parents and the sentimental sorts.
she's seven. attention span of a goldfish. i need to know the realistic stuff: when to get there, what's actually worth the concession money, how to explain icing to a child without losing her, and most importantly how to make the first game stick as a core memory and not just a loud confusing night. i want to do this right.
and because i'm sentimental, tell me about YOUR first game. what do you actually remember from it, decades later. i bet it's not the score.
season ticket mom here so listen up. get there for warmups, that's non negotiable, the players are close and a seven year old losing her mind watching them up close is half the magic. bring a cheap dollar store sign. skip the overpriced food, eat before, but DO buy the one souvenir she picks even if it's a stupid foam finger, because that object becomes the memory. and let her bang on the glass. let her be loud. don't shush the joy out of her first game.
don't even try to teach her icing or offsides the first game, that's a rookie mistake. she'll ask why everyone groaned and you say the refs blew the whistle and that's enough. let her learn the rules by osmosis over years like we all did. first game is about the lights and the horn and the crowd, not the rulebook. the hockey education can wait.
the goal horn is gonna scare her the first time 😂 warn her it's LOUD before puck drop or she'll cry on the first goal. learned this the hard way with my nephew, first horn went off and he was inconsolable for a period 😭 now he asks for the horn specifically. prep her for the horn and you're golden
My first game was 1961 and I'll tell you exactly what I remember, and Suze is right that it isn't the score. I remember my father lifting me up so I could see over the man in front of us, and I remember the ice looking impossibly white and big, and I remember the sound the crowd made on a goal, a single animal roar I'd never heard a group of grown ups make. I don't remember who we played. I remember my father's hands holding me up. That's the whole assignment, kid. Be the hands she remembers.
@GordieHoweElbows said:Be the hands she remembers
gordie you have GOT to stop doing this to me on a thursday. but he's completely right suze. my first game memory is zero percent hockey and a hundred percent my dad explaining the octopus to me with total seriousness like it was scripture and me believing every word. the game is the backdrop. you and the wonder of it are the actual memory. you've already got the most important part handled by caring this much.
MINE WAS A PLAYOFF GAME AND I WAS SIX AND IT RUINED ME FOR LIFE IN THE BEST WAY. the building was so loud i felt it in my chest and my mom was screaming and crying and i decided whatever THIS was i wanted it forever. suze if you can swing it for a niece, the energy of a packed loud building does more than any explanation ever could. she won't remember icing. she'll remember the FEELING. give her the feeling!!
Practical add since everyone's gone misty: bring ear protection for a seven year old, those little kid earmuffs. The horn and the crowd can genuinely hurt small ears and a kid in pain doesn't make a good memory. Comfortable kid plus loud building equals magic. Uncomfortable kid plus loud building equals a meltdown by the second intermission. Protect the ears, protect the memory.
i came in for logistics and i'm leaving in tears, thanks everyone. be the hands she remembers is now tattooed on my brain forever, gordie. the plan is set: warmups, ear protection, one dumb souvenir of her choosing, prep her for the horn, teach her zero rules, and just let her feel the whole beautiful loud thing. i'll report back next season. wish me luck giving a seven year old the best curse of her life.