The game ended in a tie, but I didn’t care about the score. All I cared about was that it was over and I didn’t want to leave.

On Thursday night, I experienced a first: I went to an NHL game. The Blue Jackets were playing the Lightning from Tampa Bay, and by an act of divine intervention, I got a ticket. Actually, a guy from my dad’s office had an extra, but anyway, I was there.

For those of you have never been to a Blue Jackets game, I have one word of advice: Go. Even if you think a line change is something you do at the grocery store, just go. You will enjoy it. Trust me.

From the moment I walked across Nationwide Boulevard I could feel the energy, excitement, and cold emerging from a small patch of ice inside the brick arena known as the Insurance Igloo. After the lady at the door scanned my ticket, I thought I would need a knife to cut through all the emotions.

The gentleman who generously gave me a ticket for the game and I got to our seats a little early, and the commercials were still playing on the Jumbotron. We exchanged small talk, I paid him for my ticket, and he went off to find the concession stand.

As I sat there, alone but not, I was amazed at what was happening around me. There was a ring of video screens about five feet high between the second and third decks telling me to buy a Pontiac. The Jumbotron was telling me first to eat a Donatos pizza, and then to shop at Giant Eagle. All the while Disturbed was blasting at me.

Then, a golf cart- sized truck, sponsored by Mountain Dew, came out onto the ice and a guy standing in the back of it started shooting t-shirts into the crowd from the biggest airgun I’ve ever seen. The shirts would sail up into the stands, bounce off of many outstretched arms and finally settle in the hands of the happiest fan in attendance.

After the t-shirt cannon truck the Zamboni’s came out, and after they worked their magic on the ice the National Anthem was played. Then it was time for the starting lineup for “your Columbus Blue Jackets.” The lights went out, the music went up, and the announcer suddenly sounded like Publishers Clearing House was at his front door. And, I know it’s cliche but, the crowd went wild.

And then the game started. I didn’t actually see the puck drop though, I was too busy watching the video on the Jumbotron. But after no time at all we scored. As I stood and cheered with 18,500 new friends, I was cautious of my actions. I didn’t want it to look like this was my first game.

A few minutes later, we scored again. As soon as I saw the puck hit the net, I felt my arms go up and I heard myself scream “alright!” Then I caught myself and stood up and clapped like nothing special had happened. But it was too late. I had officially become a Blue Jackets fan.

From then on, I watched the puck, booed the officials, and said “ooh” when a player got checked especially hard. Hockey is OK on TV, but when you can hear the sticks hitting the ice, feel the puck bouncing off of the boards, and can’t get warm until your team scores and you jump up and scream, it is so much better.

So, like I said, if you’ve never been to a Blue Jackets game, I can’t suggest it strongly enough: just go.

When I heard that Greg Graven’s mom had died back on March 25th, my heart immediately went out to him. I’ve never lost a family member that close, and I can’t imagine the emotion that he was feeling. To lose your mother, as a senior in high school, no less, must be beyond earth-shattering.

But, when I learned, a few days later, about the outpouring of love from the Crew Family that Greg and I share, I was floored. It came to my attention, from someone I refer to as “Aunt Lisa” that William Hesmer, the Crew’s starting goalie, had not only given Greg the jersey off his back after the most recent match, but had written on his Facebook wall the afternoon of her passing. I was floored.

I mean, this guy is a pro athlete, he has a lot of things on his plate and a lot of fans who have had important and close relatives die. Something tells me, though I may be wrong, that Will doesn’t go around writing on facebook walls of his fans for fun. He’d be all Facebook, no soccer.

But, nevertheless, he did. And he made an eighteen year old’s week with three simple, heartfelt sentences.

This was a story that had to be told.

I reached out to Greg, via Facebook (hello, it’s twenty-eleven) and asked him some questions. He told me the story, all the details about his mom’s passing and how Will came to find out and a few other background things. But all the while, I couldn’t help thinking that I was prying into a super personal time in this guy’s life. I couldn’t help but think I was intruding. But, I kept telling myself that this story needs to be told, I have to tell this story.

I went to Crew practice the first chance I got, with the intention of talking to Will and getting his thoughts and a couple of quotes for my piece. I stood around in the dreary Ohio morning, waiting and watching for my chance to get a few words, but being respectful of the working media guys there (10TV was there that day doing a basketball [!] piece) but I never got a chance with Hesmer. He snuck into the locker room, and literally no one saw him go.

(Now, don’t get me wrong, the morning wasn’t a complete waste, Crew practice never is. I got to meet a couple of legends, and joking with the other media types is always a good time. Also, I got to show Sir Duncan my sweet soccer skills. It wasn’t a bad time at all, just the mission wasn’t fully accomplished.)

So Friday, after the Crew game, I went to the locker room and waited for Will to get dressed and to do his real interviews so I could talk to him. He got quiet. His tone changed, became somber. He was visibly humbled by the devotion that a fan had shown by coming to a game. He didn’t come out and say it, but a person could tell that he was shocked. He did, however, come out and say that he’d never felt so strongly exactly how much of a family Crew Nation is.

The story here, that I feel like I didn’t tell very well in the original piece on Massive Report, isn’t about a Crew player reaching out to a Crew fan in a time of need. It’s about a family circling the wagons when times get tough for one of it’s own. It’s about supporting our “summer family” the same way we support our immediate family. I’m sure that if one of Will’s best friend’s mom’s had died, he would do something special for his buddy, a show of solidarity if you will. He may not give the guy a jersey, but more likely send flowers or take the guy out for a few drinks.

Will couldn’t do those things for Greg. All he could do was give him a bro hug, wish him the best, and hand him a shirt. It was the best way Will knew to say “Hey man, you’ve been here for me for years, and now I’m here for you.”

But Greg, Greg will never forget that one Facebook post. Greg will probably never wear that jersey. Greg has a good memory from a week filled with horrible ones.

I asked Greg if he had ever though of not going to that game. He said no, it never crossed his mind not to go, looking forward to the game helped him be positive throughout that rough week. And I bet both he and Will are going to remember that game forever, even though nothing much interesting happened on the field.

My path to soccer was long and twisted, with many stops and starts. I played in youth leagues when I was growing up, but eventually grew tired of it and drifted away. After moving to Kentucky, I joined the high school team as a quick way to make friends and get back into shape for basketball. It was during high school that I was first exposed to the EPL, World Cup (’98), and eventually the Columbus Crew.

During my senior year the team came to Crew Stadium the same weekend as the Kansas City Wizards, and I guess you could say that was the day I was officially introduced to The Crew, but I hardly remember it and certainly didn’t give it a second thought until almost ten years later. From the west side stands, my friends and I watched Ansil Elcock and Robert Warzycha score in the 2-1 victory (but I had to look the score line up just now).

After that weekend, soccer really only came up during the ‘02 and ‘06 World Cups but it was just a passing interest, even though I had moved back to Columbus and had the Crew in my backyard.  Baseball was a bigger part of my life, and becoming a soccer fan again never occurred to me.

It wasn’t until a  Saturday in March of 2008 that a buddy of mine, Dan, asked if I wanted to go to a bar near the OSU campus to play foosball and then maybe to a Crew game. Seeing as I like both foosball and soccer, I readily agreed. The fact that it happened to be the season opener, against Toronto, was just a coincidence – I was only going for the foosball and to get out of the house on a nice spring Saturday.

I had literally no idea what I was getting into as I walked up to Ruby Tuesday’s that day. I didn’t know that the Hudson Street Hooligans – or Toronto FC for that matter – existed, didn’t know anyone at the bar other than who I cam with and had the most basic knowledge of The Crew itself. I knew that the team had a tumultuous history, and that MLS wasn’t exactly the greatest quality league in the world. But I wasn’t there for the soccer so I didn’t care a whole lot, I was just there to have a good time.

I don’t remember anything about the game other than the score: 1-0 to Columbus. I do recall learning a lot: I learned about the (yet to be named) Nordecke. I learned about Frankie, Duncan, Guillermo, Gino, and Danny O (whom Dan knew from high school). I learned about Toronto; about MLS; about HSH and Crew Union; about being a fan: singing, cheering, screaming, and cursing. I learned how to really sing the Star Spangled Banner.

The gates to Crew stadium have been open fifty-seven times since that day and I’ve been absent just once. That is a better attendance record than I’ve had with any job, school, church or girlfriend in my life. I really did fall in love with the Crew on that Saturday, but it wasn’t just the soccer, it was the family that came with it.

As I sit here, in early February, I know that come opening day in March I’ll see many close friends for the first time in months. I know that there will be stories of the long winter, hugs exchanged ad nauseum, someone will have gotten married (it happens every year), and someone will have moved away. But my summer family will be together again. There are names that I don’t know and faces that I don’t recognize but, March through November, they are all my family.

I’ve grown to love the people that The Crew brought into my life almost as much as I love the club itself. I’ve worked for them, dated them, traveled across Kansas with them, gotten pepper-sprayed by the police with them, made countless poor life choices with them/kept them from making poor life choices, and become closer to them then I am with parts of my own family. There are people that The Crew has brought into my life that will be life long friends, and after only three years I really can’t imagine it any other way.

The Crew has also, in a not-so round-about way, given my life a purpose. If not for that one Saturday back in ‘08 I wouldn’t be writing and you wouldn’t be reading this. I wouldn’t be part of the best Crew-centric news website. I wouldn’t have met some amazing professionals, or shaken some amazing hands. I really wish that I could remember the day that I decided I wanted to write about The Crew because it was a day that changed every day that has followed. I’ve always wanted to be some sort of sports journalist, and were it not for that Saturday in March ‘08 I never would have pursued that dream. I know that I’ll probably never be rich or famous (at least not because of my writing) but the joy that I get from writing about soccer and it’s players is more than enough compensation.

It hasn’t always been sunshine and roses; life isn’t like that. But we will always be a family, and we will always have The Crew. Sure, players and friends alike will come and go, but the core will remain – the dynamic between club and fans, and among the fans themselves, will remain – and there is nothing that can change that or take it away from us. We will always have each other, even if we don’t.

All in all, that Saturday afternoon changed my life in ways I could never imagine – it was just a soccer game, after all. But it wasn’t, it was so much more than that. Walking into The House That Lamar Built feels like walking into my grandparents house, gathering with my friends to watch an away game feels like a big family birthday party, and going to away games as part of Nordecke on Tour feels like going on a family vacation. I think you get the point: Crew Nation feels like a family. Crew Nation is a family.

To me, being a Crew fan is about more than just soccer on Saturdays. It’s about everything besides soccer on Saturdays. It’s about camaraderie, family, support. Its about players giving thanks as much as fans. It’s about making eye contact with that one other guy at the mall wearing a bar scarf in December, or a Banana Kit in June.  It’s about being a part of something much bigger than myself, a part of something Massive.

(Also, please feel free to leave your Crew Story in the Comments. I’m really interested in how we all got here)

1. Never switch allegiances
2. Show some respect
3. Visit the shrines
4. Never give up
5. Never give in
6. Never leave early
7. Neither a front-runner nor a Johnny-come- lately be
8. Accept no substitutes
9. Wait until next year
10. Never turn down tickets to see Jordan

Memorize these, teach your friends. Scold and/or mock them when they stray. And never, ever take a seat on the bandwagon.