POV: GunnerIt was a good night on the ice, and the deep, almost cicada-like buzz of the large, busy bar on the third floor of the Reapers arena was a testament to that.The Reapers Bar and Grill was at capacity. Not unusual on game night, and a definite on a winning night. Both bars were lined hip to elbow with eligible hockey fans, some looking for a drink to discuss, sometimes heatedly, the merits of the game, the reffing, and the plays. Some were just looking to pick up another fan. And a few were planning their approach. Their end game, the hockey team. And in some cases, nearly any player would do.Whether you were a winner, or a watcher, either way, tonight, somebody was going to get lucky.The early birds of the Reaper's hockey team had grabbed a couple of long tables in a cozy corner close to the entrance, across from one of two long bars that entertained the large and well-filled establishment. There was plenty of room at the largest table for most of the guys, one side line
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