How Rooting For Bruins Changed My Blood Type To Black & Gold

Catch the premiere of "Connection: A Century of Bruins Hockey" on Wednesday, Nov. 29 at 8 p.m. ET on NESN. Then watch the special on demand anytime on NESN 360.

I am a die-hard avid Boston Bruins fan. My love and passion for the B's began long before I started covering the franchise as a member of the Digital Content team at NESN.

It all started when I was just a young girl in the early 1980s, and I would sit between my father and his friends watching whatever sporting event was on TV. Whether it was the Bruins, Red Sox, Celtics or Patriots, there I was, front and center, taking in as much knowledge of the teams as I could. I hung on every word and description of the players and teams by my dad and his buddies. I was a sponge.

As I grew up, my passion for the other Boston teams started to waver. I would always cheer for them, but I wasn't nearly as invested -- not like I was with the B's. If you're an old-school Bruins fan, you know the mantra of "bleeding black and gold." That was me. I would make plans according to the Bruins' schedule.

It wasn't just that I was a fan of the team and the sport. I studied the history of the Bruins and the NHL. I wanted to know everything I could about the team I was mesmerized by.

And then in my 20s, I had two very different encounters with two former Bruins players. It made me love the team that much more.

Brad Park was the owner of the Amesbury Sports Park in the late '90s early 2000s, and a friend of mine worked for him. One night I was hanging out chatting with my friend when he came out of the office and sat down next to me. We chatted for about an hour about his time with the Bruins, who his favorite teammate was and what his thoughts were on the current team and the direction the franchise was heading in. He made my night -- nope, actually he pretty much validated my hockey fandom when he said he admired how much I knew about the sport and the team.

Imagine that, a Hall of Fame defenseman was impressed by little old me!

The second interaction was during the 1994-95 lockout that shortened the season to 48 games. I was working at Home Depot and Terry O'Reilly came through my line at the front of the store. Of course, I had to take the opportunity to talk to him about the lockout and what it could mean for the Bruins going forward. If you've taken a gander at my author page on NESN.com, you would know that he asked me if I knew I was a female because of my hockey knowledge.

Coming from anyone else, that probably would have offended me, but again I took it as a compliment that one of the greatest Bruins was impressed by how much I knew about the franchise and the sport.

There were many times when I actually cried over the team, and not always because they lost a game or a series, but because a favorite player was injured or retired. There were two specific incidents that truly affected me.

It was Oct. 27, 2007. I was sitting up in the balcony directly above where then-Philadelphia Flyers defenseman Randy Jones hit Patrice Bergeron from behind.

I remember watching Bergeron's listless body laying on the ice, not knowing the full extent of his injuries and like any other Bruins fan that was in the stands that day, I really wasn't in the mood for a hockey game following that incident.

Thankfully, Bergeron, after missing the remainder of the 2007-08 season, returned and became one of the greatest centers in Bruins history (at least in my opinion).

The one injury that hit me the hardest happened on Mar. 7, 2010, when Matt Cooke hit Marc Savard with a blindsided hit to the head. While the hit itself did not end Savard's career it certainly was the catalyst that forced him to hang up his skates much sooner than he should have.

Years after he retired, Savard, not long after his Player's Tribune article debuted, returned to New England and made a public appearance on June 4, 2017, in Methuen, Mass. I made sure I would be there.

I remember waiting in line -- I was second -- for Savard to arrive. I was visibly shaking. I was so nervous. After reading his Player's Tribune piece, I was horrified to learn how much he truly suffered after that hit from Cooke.

When Savard walked in, I started to cry. Full on blubbering mess. I honestly don't remember the person who ran the card shows, but he told Savard that he's never met anyone like me and that I was probably his biggest fan.

Savard walked around the table, hugged me, and said, "It's OK. I'm alright now. I promise. I'm OK."

I was able to breathe again.

Watching two of my favorite players suffer from concussions was unbearable. The only saving grace was knowing that the hit Savard suffered ultimately changed a rule in the NHL regarding blindsided hits. It was probably the only time I've ever applauded something Gary Bettman did for the sport.

In 2011 during the Bruins Stanley Cup run, I was awaiting open heart surgery due to a live blood clot that was lodged in my right atrium. I not only had a blood clot in my heart but the pulmonary embolisms that caused it were starting to calcify in my arteries and lungs, making it very hard to breathe.

My friends and family started saying, "Win it for Gayle!" as the Bruins went deeper into the playoffs. When the Bruins won Game 7 in Vancouver and the players poured onto the ice, tears streamed down my cheeks.

They had done it. And I was alive to see it.

Unfortunately, I wasn't well enough to attend the parade in Boston, but I was one of the 50,000 fans at Government Center when Ray Bourque brought the Cup there after winning it with the Colorado Avalanche in 2001. I cried then, too!

When I went in for my heart surgery that July, the nurse who prepped me was trying to get me to relax as he was fishing around my hand for a vein to stick the IV in. I remember telling him, "Don't worry, I bleed black and gold."

I'm still an avid Bruins fan -- I have a tattoo to prove it -- but I'm a little bit more subdued about it because when I navigate through TD Garden on game days, I have to hide my Bruins fandom. After all, there's no cheering in the press box.