When I walk down the street in New York, I swear to God, the building constructor, the guy pounding cement and what not, will yell, 'Hey, you hockey puck!'
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
I am a huge hockey fan.
Since the beginning, I always loved the game. When you grow up in Montreal, one day you want to be a professional hockey player. When I was six or seven, I knew that was what I wanted.
I was in Toronto with my parents, and my dad took me to an outdoor hockey rink. I was 3 or 4, and I just remember everything about that day. For some reason, I thought, 'This is it. This is what I'm supposed to do.' And this is around the time that Gretzky came to L.A., so I immediately joined a hockey league.
I saw a hockey game where they threw the puck aside and just started fighting. I saw that, and I'm like, 'So I'm the thug?'
We're always skating to wherever the puck is going.
As a hockey player, playing for an Original Six team at Madison Square Garden, where it's packed every night, there's nothing like it.
In Montreal, I kept thinking, 'Pay attention: this is the Olympics! It only happens once every four years!'
When there's not ten feet of snow on the ground, I ride my bike down the streets of New York, and I literally hear two things out of car windows as cabs pass by me: They either yell, 'Hey, dummy,' or 'Hey, Mayhem.'
I skate to where the puck is going to be, not where it has been.
I like ice hockey. No one is ever going to ask me to write about that as a metaphor for life.