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First Person is a daily personal piece submitted by readers. Have a story to tell? See our guidelines at tgam.ca/essayguide.

My name is Andrea and, before you begin reading, you should probably know that I am (insert awkward hair twirl and eye shift here) … a diehard Boston Bruins fan.

I don’t really know how or why I chose this team. It was a combination of having friends from the Boston area, wanting to pick an Original Six team, appreciating Boston’s liberal politics (yes, I did consider that in my quest to become a sports fan), and, quite frankly, my love of being different. I mean, a Boston fan in Toronto is annoying enough to be different, right?

If I am being really honest, though, watching hockey started from a lifetime of wanting to fit in. Riddled with anxiety pretty much my entire life, I longed for some sort of sense of belonging, but sports never made sense to me. I watched my siblings excel in sports, watched my friends wear jerseys and yell at the screen, watched co-workers talk at the lunch table about “the game”- and I knew I needed to understand what was going on.

Living in Ontario and cheering for the Boston Bruins is not a popular thing to say. But, all of a sudden, I had something to say at the lunch table. It also gave me a new way to talk to my students. I teach English to teenagers and being a hockey fan has brought me more credibility than my English degree itself, at least according to the teenagers.

My way of getting 15-year-old students to pick up and read Indian Horse by Richard Wagamese? Hockey. Teaching prepositional phrases? Sentences about hockey. Teaching descriptive writing? By asking students to write from the perspectives of players, fans and coaches to learn writing from different points of view.

More importantly than any of this, however, is that hockey brought me closer to my dad. As I slowly began to understand hockey (though I still ask so many questions), I was able to sit and watch games with my dad. He bought me my first jersey with no name on the back because, at first, I really didn’t know anything about the Bruins. He bought me my second jersey a few years later, proudly sporting the number 63: Brad Marchand, my favourite player.

A few years back, my dad and I decided to go on an Original Six tour, visiting one city a year to watch a game. We started with New York, and I realized that though considered low in Canada, my hockey IQ game was strong in a city that had so many professional sports teams.

In Toronto, we attended a playoff game in 2017 (Toronto-Washington). One of my students told me I couldn’t go to the playoffs without a jersey and – even though I wasn’t a Leafs or Washington fan – he lent me his prized possession: an Auston Matthews jersey he had received for Christmas. I never turn down a kind gesture, especially from a student, but did I feel like a traitor? You bet. Wearing a Leafs jersey felt like a weird sort of treachery, despite the fact I was finally cheering for the home team.

Last season, we went to Game 4 of the Boston-Toronto series. As soon as I finished teaching for the day, I hopped on a GO Train for the hour-long trip into the city to meet Dad. I was wearing my Bruins jersey but it was hidden under a jacket. I was nervous, truthfully, to wear a Boston jersey in Toronto during the playoffs – a lesson I learned wearing a Bruins T-shirt in Vancouver the summer of 2011. However, since I am a true, diehard fan, I knew it had to be done. I didn’t undo my jacket until I met up with my dad and, once I did, I was antsy awaiting the attention it would bring. Leafs Nation showed up for this game and there were only a few Bruins fans in sight. We lined up and started talking to other fans around us.

I got razzed a bit at first, but nothing I couldn’t handle. When we sat down across from the Bruins bench and about 20 rows back from the ice, I slowly settled in. Everyone teased me, but my seatmates were also quite kind.

By the end of the night, I had taken a selfie with a Leafs fan so he could show his wife and kids that not all Boston fans were terrible. I had convinced the businessmen behind me that I could be the one to make Brad Marchand a better human (Brad, if you’re reading this, I think you’re perfect the way you are), and I shared my obscure facts about the Bruins with those around me (Zdeno Chara is like, 7 feet tall on skates).

Toronto sports fans, I learned, are wonderful. And I understood more about team loyalty, especially since the Bruins won that night. Toronto fans are unwavering. They support their team no matter what. The energy and excitement was palpable in the stands, and I couldn’t believe how kind the fans were about my Bruins affiliation. Sure, the occasional drunk yelled something unfavourable at me, but I left the game elated.

Regardless of who I was cheering for, Toronto Leafs fans showed me – someone with a myriad of diagnosed anxiety disorders – that people aren’t scary. The world isn’t scary. In fact, if given the chance, people can be wonderful.

Hockey season is starting once again and with it the same old mantra I hear from every Toronto fan I know: “We’ll get them this year.”

And in some (small) way, I really hope you do because, Toronto: you deserve it.

Andrea Mathieson lives in Port Hope, Ont.

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