But for me, the game of hockey, beyond its unique combination of grace and power, has always been about community. At home it was a handful of friends and family, about the only people who knew the game well enough to have a meaningful discussion. Here, it was basically four people-myself, Jennie Sullivan, Brian Schulz and Chris Wolfe. The four of us, all graduating today, marauded together, Jennie and I for the Crimson and Chris and Brian for WHRB, covering the team with equal passion. We spent countless hours over numerous Papa Johns pizzas debating, speculating, and reminiscing.

While our passion was something extraordinary, the camaraderie we felt as the hockey media team was an experience that too few students at this school truly can appreciate. Finding a place where you belong and can make basic connections with other people is something to be treasured throughout life. Besides the sanctuary of the press box, I have been fortunate enough to form those bonds with my Belltower crew and my Sigma Chi fraternity brothers.

I complained numerous times about the apathy of the Harvard student body towards athletics. I only did so because I knew that hockey once served to unite the campus and could do so once again. As great as Harvard's 7-4 win over Yale in the playoffs this year was, the truly beautiful sight was the throng of students erupting in sheer elation over the team's feat.

I wanted the whole college to share in the rewarding experience I had by being at the game. When a sport has a tradition like Harvard's, the connection between the student-athlete and student-fan is transcended through the years and you can feel the presence of those who came before in an endless continuum.

I still am very much the college hockey neophyte. When Boston College's Scott Clemmensen broke the record for most saves in the Frozen Four, I had to ask the Boston Herald's John Conolly what school did the former record holder, Grant Blair '86 played for. The class year should indicate my embarrassment.

But even in those moments, I still was experiencing the community of hockey and of this profession. The feelings were the same in Bright Hockey Center as they were on my family's couch.

I hope you enjoyed my rants on these pages. I am forever grateful to have had this wonderful opportunity, but at the same time, I am terrified as to where I will find that community again not necessarily in hockey, but in life.

Because the meaningfulness of those bonds truly is the V Spot.