What I Miss About Game Days

 Game days weren’t just about the 60 minutes on the ice—they were an all-day experience, a ritual filled with superstitions, routines, and moments that could never be replicated once the skates were hung up. From morning skates and pre-game burritos to sewer ball battles and the first sip of a post-game beer, there’s something about the chaos and camaraderie of game days that will always hold a special place in my heart.

1. Pre-Game Skate: The Best 20 Minutes of the Day

Pre-game skates were hockey’s version of recess—low stress, high skill, and just enough structure to trick the coaches into thinking we were working hard.

• 20-25 minutes of structured drills, then the rest of the hour to mess around.

• Defensemen? We worked on puck recoveries, partner passes, blue-line walks, and trying to shoot around shin pads instead of into them.

• Forwards? Probably working on dekes they’d never pull off in a game.

• Always ended with a juice boy shootout or rebound game—where chirping was an absolute must.

The dressing room vibe was easy and light, the music was either country or the latest Top 40, and if we were in San Diego, a pre-skate donut courtesy of Moose Brogna. And if you’ve never eaten a Krispy Kreme with a coffee while reading the USA Today entertainment section, you simply haven’t lived.

2. Pre-Game Meal: The Feast Before the Nap

Pre-game meal was a sacred experience, whether at home or on the road.

• At home: Simple. Grilled chicken, rice or pasta, ESPN SportsCenter on loop. Bonus points if you could beat Stuart Scott to his own one-liners.

• On the road: A per diem-fueled team lunch, usually at an Italian restaurant because carbs were king. In the AHL, team meals were set up at the hotel—a no-brainer. In the ECHL? It depended on the city and whether you still had money left from the night before.

Shoutout to Jon Daigneau, our rookie goalie and resident Harvard grad, for memorizing everyone’s order at every Old Spaghetti Factory, Olive Garden, or random Italian joint we hit.

The best part? Avoiding shoe checks, scouting the waitress situation (especially in Victoria), and preparing for the inevitable food coma.

3. The Sacred Pre-Game Nap

Early in my career, naps were a light snooze with a movie on in the background. Later in my career? I hibernated like a grizzly bear on melatonin.

• Young me: Throw on Days of Thunder, visualize the game situations, close my eyes, and drift off for 30 minutes max.

• Older me: Two-hour blackout. Wake up questioning what year it was.

Turns out, pounding endless carbs before lying in complete darkness is a foolproof sleep strategy.

4. Dressing Up for the Game: Look Good, Feel Good

• North America? Suits were the standard. You looked like a pro even if you played like a plug.

• Europe? Tracksuits, jeans, hoodies—it was lawless.

• My approach? Dark colors. Hid beer stains, late-night hot dog drippings, and any evidence of poor life choices.

A good game meant showing up to the bar post-game looking like a big wheel. A bad game? You just hoped no one recognized you.

5. Two-Touch: The Pre-Game Battlefield

Every hockey player knows two-touch (sewer ball) was just as important as the actual warm-up.

• 12-14 guys, standing in a circle, juggling a soccer ball.

• The goal? Stay alive.

• The execution? Target your teammates with “sewer balls” and watch the chaos unfold.

• The final two standing? Medieval jousting, hockey style.

6. Pre-Game Warmup: The Calm Before the Storm

Warmups were a 15-minute runway to get the legs moving, the hands warm, and the head right.

• Good warmup? You felt invincible.

• Bad warmup? You felt like a beer leaguer who won a charity raffle to play.

Walking down the tunnel, second-to-last in line, as the hype music hit? Hair on the back of my neck stood up every time.

7. Post-Game Beers: The True Trophy

Winning a game meant a cold beer in the room, half-dressed in gear, and the perfect blend of exhaustion and satisfaction. It was a tradition everywhere except Japan—where, unfortunately, post-game beers weren’t part of the program.

• Celebrate a win, nurse a broken nose, or laugh about the idiot who skated into the ref.

• War stories were told, bruises were compared, and for a brief moment, all was right in the world.

Back when spitting chiclets actually meant losing teeth, not just a hockey podcast, the post-game beer was a badge of honor, earned the hard way. Some guys left with points, some left with stitches—but as long as you left with a beer in hand, it was a good night. 

8. The Post-Game Celebration

This section is redacted for everyone’s protection.

If you know, you know. and I expect you to keep your mouth shut too. Snitches get stitches 🍻

As my old man used to say, “Those who know do not speak, those that speak do not know."

 Final Buzzer: What I’d Give for One More Game Day

Looking back, it wasn’t just the game itself that made it special. It was the entire experience—the routines, the traditions, the inside jokes that no one outside the room would ever understand.

I miss the smell of the rink when you first walk in. The feeling of taping a fresh stick. The sound of a perfect tape-to-tape pass in warmups. The music. The banter. The thrill of battle. The beers.

You don’t realize it when you’re in it, but one day, you’ll play your last game. And when you do, you won’t just miss the competition—you’ll miss the game days.

About the Author

Darrell played over 1,000 professional games, logging more air miles than most pilots and consuming enough pre-game pasta to feed a small country. He has won and lost countless juice boy shootouts, been sewer-balled out of two-touch by teammates with questionable morals, and has worn a suit more times than a Fortune 500 CEO—all for the love of the game. These days, he’s traded late-night bus rides for coaching whiteboards, but his game-day spirit lives on in every rink he steps into.