I entered a contest recently held by my favorite professional sports team – the New Jersey Devils. Named the "Devils Night Out Sweepstakes," in 200 words or less, I was to write an essay stating why I deserve a "Devils Night Out."

The grand prize was free coffee for a year, dinner for four at a restaurant inside the arena, four lower-level tickets to the last game of the regular season, a VIP tour of the arena, a New Jersey Devils gift pack and an item autographed by the team.

I didn't win.

Here was my essay.

1995.

She couldn't stop staring at her new diamond ring; how it sparkled brilliantly under the Brendan Byrne Arena lights. We cheered for our beloved Devils, the excitement of our engagement still warm.

Simple times.

Our world was sent spinning in 2003 when our son Charlie was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes.

As parents, it's a life of total anxiety. We are on constant guard for low blood sugars that strike without warning and we're haunted with the thought of long-term complications.

We prick his little fingers twelve times a day and insert a small needle under his skin for constant insulin delivery.

Holding him down to change this lifeline is like wrestling an alligator. He begs and screams for us to stop. It's a big disease for a little boy.

We have given every ounce of ourselves to keep Charlie alive and healthy so that he can be ready for the cure if it ever comes.

And so that he can chase another dream …

To one day play hockey for the Devils.

It's not easy being your child's pancreas when his is broken.

Pancreases don't get out to hockey games too often.

But it sure would be nice.