Opinion: The passion of a Wrecker

I have experienced being a Wrecker from all angles. I was a Wrecker through and through. I came to Staples as a wide-eyed freshman, unsure of what was to come. Three times I battled hundreds of kids and teachers alike in the adrenaline pumping half hour that I spent at arena preceding each year. I played Laddie's Four Corner Special, and was continuously harassed by Shamas for being 30 seconds tardy. I schlepped through CAPT and the SATs. I learned from Mr. Jolley that a day absent was knowledge lost. I was a part of the school that was named the best public school in the state by Connecticut Magazine.

Beyond all that though, there was much, much more. I've been a Wrecker as both an athlete and as a fan. I've felt blood pump through my veins in front of a packed stadium of people at the Yale Whale with a state championship on the line. I've also led a riotous crowd of Superfans, all cheering for the same cause. Outside of family and personal relationships, the deepest of my passions were devoted to those two feelings.

I poured four years of my life into being a Staples hockey player. I played varsity hockey starting freshmen year, when I was an undersized defenseman trying not to mess up, through senior year, when I was an alternate captain and an emotional leader of the team. I had played hockey both casually and formally since I was in preschool, and eventually, a decade-and-a-half of hockey led up to what was supposed to be 45 minutes, but eventually turned into 65 minutes. With my team, I was a part of a double-overtime state championship game that defined the hockey careers of almost every individual who touched the ice.

And we knew that. We rallied around that. We huddled in the locker room before entering the spotlight of the championship, and we told each other in a very loud way just how significant the moment was. We were focused, and we were one heck of a team. I can't describe the feeling I got from that, and I won't ever experience it again.

And above the ice there were the fans. I could look up into the crowd and see my peers, my friends, my parents and my soon-to-be-girlfriend. And they were all dressed in white shirts that read "Staples-Weston Hockey." They chanted our names as individuals and as a team. They heckled the opposing players, most notably the "ginger." And before the game and between plays I would face the crowd and raise my arms in the air to hear a roar in return.

I've been a part of that roar. My favorite memory of being a fan was in Norwalk at the soccer FCIAC Finals against Greenwich. That was bedlam. We wanted nothing more than to make Greenwich cry mercy. The bleachers exploded with each goal we scored. And we were all in white. We looked like an angry cloud. We ran over to Greenwich's side of the bleachers with a piñata parrot -- but which was really a cardinal -- to make them feel as bad as their team was. When the clock ran out with the scoreboard reading Staples 3, Greenwich 1, we stormed the field, covering the green turf with white-clothed champions. That beat anything else I could experience as a fan. No NCAA Championship, Super Bowl, World Series or Stanley Cup could ever trump that.

The reason for that is intimacy. I don't interact with UConn athletes, and I rarely even see them. Spotting a basketball star is as exciting as seeing a celebrity in Hollywood. But in high school, I watched my friends' games all the time. Soccer, basketball, baseball, volleyball, you name it. And when one of my peers stood out to me in the day prior's game, I'd give them a pat on the back and let them know how well I thought they did -- whether I was friends with them or not. And they appreciated that. In fact I'm sure that some of those compliments made those kids' days.

We lost our hockey state championship game in double-overtime. We gave up a 2--0 lead in the third period to fall to our arch-rivals, St. Joseph's. And we hate St. Joe's. I was almost more upset that they won than that we lost. Our high school hockey careers effectively ended, and, for the most part, our hockey careers in their entirety were over. The last time I ever played competitive hockey ended with a goal against us that stole our chance to be a part of something really special. That will stick with me for the rest of my life.

But so will being a Wrecker. So will the fact that I played in the state championship. So will being a part of a complete turn-around in the culture of being a Staples fan. I was a Staples student for four years, but I will be a Wrecker for life. I always knew that, but life as a college student has only fortified that belief. So to all future Staples Wreckers, look forward to your time there. To the current Staples Wreckers, take in the moment as much as you can. And to all '09 kids and older, look back and be proud. We have a lot to be proud of.

Gregory Keiser is a 2009 graduate of Staples high school and a freshman at the University of Connecticut, Storrs.