Last week a hockey player who is pretty popular in our household officially retired from the sport. The following day there was a picture in the newspaper of Jeremy Roenick with the announcement.
For those who know us well (or even know a little about us), we are HUGE hockey fans. I think it began with me at birth, since my parents named me after a hockey player. Although growing up I hated the fact that I was named after a boy. I mean, what person doesn't hate their name at some point?! (For what it's worth, if I was born a boy, my name still would've been Darcy.) Phil enjoyed watching hockey once he got to college, especially attending college hockey games. We joke that we might have been at the same games since our colleges played each other and were only about 30 miles apart.
Anyway, I had always wanted to continue the tradition of naming my son (if I was lucky enough to have one) after a hockey player. And I have ALWAYS had a crush on Jeremy Roenick, with his broken nose and all.
On our first date, I mentioned to Phil that I wanted to name my child after a hockey player. And that didn't scare him off.
We didn't find out the gender of either child, so Jeremy was always on the table for our son. And when our Jeremy was born, he was blessed with the name.
My point to this story, is that I showed our Jeremy a picture of Jeremy Roenick and told him that's who he was named after.
He took one look at the picture and said, "That's me?! I'm a hockey player?!"
Too cute. And who knows what the future holds.
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