A Day of "So What?"

Yesterday I wore an Islanders jersey to school, and knew what was going to happen. The Isles were fresh off a loss to Edmonton, their 13th consecutive road loss, and I knew what that would mean to people who knew anything about hockey. A rite of passage for them to point and laugh, to wrinkle their noses. My father even saw me in it before I left and asked, "You're actually going to wear that in public?"

My snappy answer, "You still wear your Jets jersey, don't you?"

The fact is, people think that I haven't heard it all before- that is, the snide remarks and quick quips that they've probably heard out of the mouth of Larry Brooks first. When I was younger, a raw rookie fan, I wasn't used to the barbs, but now, I've created some of my own. Sometimes I'll let the heat of the moment burn me, but more often than not I realize something: I don't care much at all.

And I didn't, not even when one of the deans came up to me and said, "I'm an Islander fan, and they suck." I didn't bat an eye- only said, "Same script, different actor- I've heard it already," and walked past him. At the field for practice, as I walked past the guys, they shouted putdowns,to which I simply smiled and walked on, wearing my blue Brendan Witt jersey proudly. And why not? I know their record. I know their stats- I should after all, writing for this blog. I know exactly what my boys on the Island are made of, so whoever thinks they're doing me a service by telling me this is sadly mistaken.

The truth is, I could care less. I'm an Islander through and through. Perhaps I didn't know what I was doing when I chose them over the Rangers, but the point is, I made that choice on my own, and I'll stand by it, because over time I've come to love this team despite their record, and despite their stats. There are some who will never comprehend that... and quite frankly, my dear, I don't give a you-know-what.

My name is Angie, and I am an Islander. Plain and simple.