There is nothing else in sports like the excitement that comes from the NHL playoff rounds. The tension and anticipation in the arena are palpable. Regular season games are fun while the team is in the hunt for the playoffs, but everything turns up a notch or two once the tournament begins. The fans are raring to go, the players can't stand still during the National Anthems, the noise level is tremendous, and the first goal for the home team creates an explosion!

In May of 1995, the Pens were in search of the Cup and playing a tough series against the Washington Capitals, perennial rivals. Tickets to the series were hard to come by, especially for good seats, close to the ice. As luck would have it, a business acquaintance called me on Friday afternoon to ask if I would like four seats to the playoff game on Sunday. Of course I did, but Sunday, May 14, happened to also be Mother's Day and was the reason the man couldn't use the tickets. I knew my mother and my kids would understand, so I said yes, I'd love to have the tickets.

On Sunday, the whole family gathered early in the day for brunch to give gifts and cards and spend time together. Then my sister Kim and I joined two friends and set off for the arena and the afternoon game. We weren't really sure where our seats were, but we knew they were good ones. We were all caught up in the excitement of seeing a playoff game. As we made our way to our seats, it was obvious they were good ones. We were just to the right of the goal where the Pens shot for two periods, only about 10 or 12 rows back, behind the glass. We sat down marveling at our good fortune and I told everyone to keep their eyes on the puck because we could have some hit in our direction.

The game began and we saw first-hand the magic the Pens could create. At the end of three periods, the score was tied and we were hoarse from cheering our team on! Finally the overtime period began and the excitement grew. We had to win! The play was coming back to our end of the rink when a whistle blew. I was looking at the Pen's bench to see who was coming on the ice for the next shift when I felt someone or something hit my upper arm. I thought it was my friend, Pat, who was sitting next to me. I turned
to her just in time to see the guys in the seats in front of us lunging towards us! I didn't know what was happening until Pat said, "Jan, get the puck, it's under your seat!" I reached down and in one motion, grabbed the puck while my three companions worked at pushing the guys away. One of the guys tried to get the puck from my hand, but with the nails on my other hand, I raked his skin and he let go. Pat said, "The puck hit her -- it's hers!" That's when I realized what the pain in my arm was -- the frozen puck had ricocheted off the glass and hit me square on the arm. All of a sudden, my arm felt like it weighed twenty pounds, but I had the puck for a souvenir.

I looked to the end of our row and saw an arena usher motioning me to come with him. I asked why and he said he wanted to take me to the first aid station for treatment, an ice bag. I said, "Are you crazy? We're in
overtime in a playoff game! I can't leave now." Within five minutes, the Pens scored and we won the game. I don't remember the score or who got the winning goal, but I have a memory of feeling like I "took one for the team" because I had the bruise to prove it. Over the next week, the puck impression on my arm turned every color in the rainbow before it healed, but it was my badge of honor.

Five years and many hockey games later, the puck still sits on my desk today. It is in a stand, it's signed by Gary Bettman, the Commissioner, and says Official Game Puck. I wrote on it "May 14, 1995 Pens vs.. Caps." Idon't know either who's stick it came off of when it soared in my direction -- I don't even know if it was a Penguin or a Capital. All I know is it's mine, I fought for it and I got it!