I usually get strange looks when I tell people I'm a theater major and a hockey fan. But it makes sense- the ferocious and loyal atmosphere at hockey games is probably some of the best theater there is. Watching the Tank go nuts as the Shark Head drops at HP Pavilion is more moving than any monologue (especially during the playoffs). There's a certain power that hockey exudes onto its fans, and one I've cherished for as long as I can remember. Born and raised on hockey in the Bay Area, I've been following the trials and tribulations of Sharks hockey since the team's inception in 1991. My parents, both from the east coast, ingrained the sport of hockey into me at a young age. I got my first Sharks shirt when I was four years old, and never looked back. While other kids around me grew up on basketball, I worshipped the ice the Sharks skated on like it was my own. I loved how every other Sharks fan I met seemed to feel the same way, too. I've enjoyed watching this team build a loyal fanbase over the years, and want nothing more than to see the Stanley Cup Bleed Teal here in San Jose. While I currently live in Los Angeles for school, I always hit up the Tank for a game when I come back home to visit (and Falafel's Drive-In for a banana shake and falafel sandwich special).