Twenty thousand empty seats surrounded you, but the sound of skates cutting across the rink echoed like a heartbeat in the cavernous space. The San Jose Sharks were already out there, a wall of bright teal and white, stickhandling lazily in warm-up circles.

A tall man in a suit—a team liaison, according to the badge clipped to his blazer—gestured toward the bench. "The twins are already in the locker room with their families," he said, his voice carrying over the hum of the Zamboni. "But the boys wanted to meet you all first. Say hello."

The cameras were everywhere. Make-A-Wish had media crews stationed along the boards, their lenses tracking every step your group took. Some of the players noticed the commotion and started gliding toward the bench, helmets off, curious.