It’s a feeling that I didn’t quite realize I had been missing: Watching every deke, dribble and dive that Team Canada and its world-class opponents executed, on a TV in a pub full of people watching the same; white-knuckling the edge of the bar in one hand and a pint of lime-and-soda in the other; hugging and high-fiving strangers in moments of joy; doubling over in agony with them in moments of joy narrowly denied.