In the heart of the Twin Cities, a weekend meant to honor a beloved friend and relive cherished traditions morphed into a poignant tableau of protest and sportsmanship. Gathered to mourn the loss of their friend Mitch, a group of long-time companions braved the cold Minnesota air to partake in their annual hockey weekend—a ritual steeped in camaraderie and the crack of the puck.

Mitch, remembered for his military service and zest for life, was honored in a ceremony that saw tears freezing in beards and heartfelt salutes. The group, bound by decades of friendship, decided to continue with their plans, which included attending a college hockey game at the new stadium on the St. Paul campus of a local law school.

The day took an unexpected turn as the friends arrived at Tiffany’s sports bar. Just outside, hundreds of anti-ICE protesters had gathered, braving the frigid temperatures to make their voices heard. Moved by the scene and perhaps a few toasts to Mitch’s memory, one of the friends couldn't help but join in, his shouts of "FUCK ICE!" resonating through the cold air, met with applause and cheers from the crowd.

However, the spirit of protest seemed to overshadow the game itself. Inside the arena, the atmosphere was palpable but strangely divided. The visiting Michigan Tech Huskies fans filled the space with vibrant energy, in stark contrast to the local fans, a stoic assembly that seemed disengaged and outnumbered. The absence of alcohol in the stadium, a surprising discovery for many, only added to the surreal environment, making it feel less like a festive sporting event and more like an echo of something familiar yet misplaced.

Attempts to add a personal touch to the event—a brief tribute to Mitch on the Jumbotron—were rebuffed, furthering the sense of disconnect between the personal significance of the occasion and the broader, impersonal ambiance of the stadium.

As the game progressed, the group found themselves cheering for the Huskies, a symbolic shift perhaps, driven by a mix of nostalgia for their friend and the lackluster support from the home crowd. This sentiment was a stark contrast to the vibrant defense of civil liberties that had unfolded outside the bar earlier.

The weekend, meant to be a tribute to a lost friend, turned into a reflection on the current social and political climates affecting the Twin Cities. It served as a reminder of the complex layers of community, sports, and activism, intertwined in unexpected ways, leaving the friends looking forward to next year's hockey weekend with hopes of lighter hearts and perhaps a more joyful reunion.