What We Learned is written by Puck Daddy editor Greg Wyshynski this week, as Ryan Lambert shall return to this very column space next Monday. By Greg Wyshynski I've steadfastly avoided wearing an NHL jersey for the last few months, a personal protest born out of complete agitation and exasperation with the lockout. Two-and-a-half year olds, however, have no respect for such personal politics. So after I put a Hello Kitty holiday shirt on my daughter this weekend, she instructed me on what I needed to wear that day. "Daddy … Debbuls shirt." This is child speak for digging one of my New Jersey Devils sweaters out of the back of the closet. Bypassing the Claude Lemieux jersey — no father wants to turtle in front of his daughter — I picked out my old school green-and-red Scott Stevens throwback jersey, and received proper approval from my fashion consultant. (Keep in mind I could have worn a pancake as a hat and still received the same approval.) And so we embarked on our day of Christmas-y stuff, as I wore my wholly appropriate Christmas tree jersey. The last time I rocked an NJD sweater was the day after the Los Angeles Kings won the Stanley Cup — a show of fan solidarity and respect for your team's effort, flying the colors one last time before they're buried for the summer months. It had been far too long. Yet at the same time, it felt different. Disgustingly different.