Friday, June 12, 2009

Game 7: In Which I Have a Heart Attack and Die

Between a hectic schedule, loads of personal stuff at home, and just an overriding fear of doing anything to karmically jinx my guys, I’ve written very little about the NHL playoffs this year. (Also, I’m very lazy.) But it’s Game 7 tonight so I have to write something, right?

So here it is: ARGH! ARGH! ARGH! ARGH! DAY MOVING TOO SLOWLY! ARGH! ARGH! ARGH! ARGH! PLEASE, GOD, LET THE WINGS WIN! ARGH! ARGH! ARGH! ARGH! WHERE’S MY DAMN BEER? ARGH! ARGH! ARGH! ARGH!

Or something like that. In all honesty, I wanted a better word to use over and over again than “argh” but I’ve got nothing. My brain no longer resides in the world of polysyllabic speech. I am a quivering mound of goo and there’s still four hours till game time. ARGH is just about all I’ve got at this point.

I know on some level, should the Wings lose, I’ll be able to console myself knowing I’ve already seen four Cup celebrations over the past 12 years and no other team’s fans can say that, but dammit, I will be so incredibly broken if they lose tonight. I want to see #5 (#12 overall). I want to see them win it on home ice and laugh in Li’l Gary’s face as he tries and fails to sell that shit-eating grin of his while handing The Cup to Lidstrom. Make no mistake, Gary (Ass) hates him some Wings and it’s such sweet, sweet nectar when he has to hand over the cup to a guy wearing a winged wheel, a guy representing an organization that is run 250x better than he runs the rest of the league. I want to see Osgood holding up his third Cup (as a starter) and, in doing so, tell all his detractors just where they can stick their slings and arrows. I want to see Hossa, who took less cash this year to win a Cup in Hockeytown, score a game winning goal. I want to see Sidney Crosby cry. I want to see Malkin curled up in a fetal position inside his own net. 

…I want to survive the game tonight, win or lose, without having a coronary.

More than all that, I want to see the pictures from the parade that would come, where, quite literally, a million Detroiters pack into the streets to celebrate. Another Cup won’t fix anything that ails that city or the state, but it sure as hell won’t hurt to have something to celebrate for a change.

Go Wings!

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