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Growing up I was a total tomboy. I was far more likely to be found playing football with the boys then playing dolls with the girls. Although I played a variety of sports, I always loved the rough and tumble sports that the guys played. So when I started college I had a deep love for football and ice hockey.

I quickly discovered that talking sports with a guy was the ultimate ice breaker. Men always have something to say about sports and the guys liked that I knew just as much about them as they did. My boyfriends would tell me that I was "their kind of girl" because I would rather catch a game then watch the latest romantic chick flick.

When I met my husband I was amazed by how well everything seemed to click. Our relationship was a classical whirl wind romance. There was only one thing, I was an avid sports fan and, at best, he was a casual viewer. I had found one of the few men on the planet who did not schedule their lives around sports. Most women would be thrilled, I was worried. However, we had such a strong connection that our different attitudes toward sports didn't matter and we were married within seven months of meeting one another.

I was prepared for the trials that marriage might bring, issues over money and expenses, debates about who should do the dishes and, of course, the age old argument about leaving the toilet seat up. Who knew that our first road bump as a married couple would be caused by the start of the hockey season?

At first my husband was willing to learn about the game and I was eager to share my passion for the sport. I explained the technical aspects while trying to convey what made it such a great game. He thought it was cute how I would yell at the television with a slight Canadian accent, a bad habit I picked up after years of imitating hockey fans from the frozen north. It seemed like it was all going to work out. However, while my husband was prepared to watch the occasional game, he was flabbergasted when he realized the amount of hockey I watched.

Living in Arizona, hockey coverage is sparse at best, so I suggested to my husband that we pay for a channel dedicated to the sport. At first my husband thought I was only kidding around when I gushed about a channel that was "all hockey, all the time". His humor turned to horror when he realized that I was serious. My husband told me that he finally understood what some women meant when they said they were football widows because they lost their husbands love and attention during

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