Thursday marked a first in my sports writing career — I covered a hockey game.

Mars and Freeport squared off and treated me with a competitive game from the opening faceoff to the final horn. The Yellowjackets fought back from a 2-0 third-period deficit, but Mars ended up with a 3-2 victory.

I ended up jealous.

Although my childhood revolved around sports, hockey was always an afterthought.

For starters, I hate the cold, so a sport played on ice wasn’t going to be my first pick. Secondly, hockey doesn’t feature a ton of scoring, which didn’t appeal to me growing up. And finally, the stars of the game seemed to have 17-letter, impossible-to-pronounce last names.

As a guy with more vowels than consonants in his last name, I should have known better.

My winters belonged to basketball, though. Hockey was a distant second. These days, it’s just about even and I can thank Pennsylvania for that.

I transferred to Edinboro University in the fall of 2006 and for the first time in my life, I was cut off from my beloved Boston Celtics. I kept tabs by catching SportsCenter or reading online, but couldn’t watch the games unless it was a national broadcast.

I always supported the Boston Bruins, but only the Celtics had the ability to affect my day. This all changed with a little help from my newfound hockey-crazed Edinboro friends.

Instead of being parked in front of the TV watching Paul Pierce drill fade-away jumpers, I was stuck watching Sidney Crosby deke out defensemen.

But it wasn’t the skills that eventually forced a genuine appreciation for hockey, it was being surrounded by the insanity of Penguin fans.

No matter the sport, whether it’s football, baseball or Olympic curling, passion is what makes it great to follow. The intensity of hockey is something I foolishly overlooked as a kid.

This evolved my support for the Bruins into a full-blown fanhood. Each time one of my best friends referred to them as “the Bumians” — so creative! — it made me love the Bruins a little bit more.

As time went on, I realized I should have found an ice rink to give hockey a try.

After all, my hesitance to embrace the sport was all based on myth.

The chilly arena wouldn’t bother me if I was skating my heart out and there was just enough scoring to make every goal crucial. A 4-2 hockey score is the same as a 28-14 football game, a team just doesn’t get seven points every time it finds the back of the net.

Most of all, it was the passion, and Mars and Freeport proved to me it wasn’t exclusive to the professional ranks.

When Austin Heakins gave the Planets a 1-0 lead, he reacted like it was the Stanley Cup Playoffs. When Cole Hepler put Freeport on the board, his team ignited. When Nick Blaney scored the decisive goal, I was filled with envy.

I’ve knocked down a game-winning shot on the basketball floor, but I’ll never know what it’s like to beat a goalie with a blistering shot into the twine.

Jason Orfao is a staff writer for the Butler Eagle.