Monday, June 15, 2009

Hockey: Postponed.

I'm not over it. I'll never be over it. That was the most painful sporting event experience I've had in my lifetime. No doubt about it. I could feel doubt creeping in at 1-0, and I was fully pessimistic when it was 2-0. Girl's Name Talbot had beaten us again. But Ericsson gave us life, and I stupidly clung to that, thinking we would have our own 34.7. Nope. No Cup, no joy, no more hockey. Just like that. And then, this.

It truly amazes me how accurate that scene is to my reaction. All you have to do is replace the van with my house and make it night time, and that's exactly what happened about 30 seconds after the final horn sounded. I turned off the TV, ripped off my Datsyuk jersey, ran outside without any shoes and screamed my lungs out. Then I fell to the ground and cried hysterically for about 10 full minutes. I'm not proud of it, but that's the truth. I almost threw up, I felt so sick to my stomach.

I've perused my favorite Wings blogs over the past few days, looking to gauge the different reactions. Heartbreak was abound, but I'm sorry to say I'm not nearly as classy as A2Y or anyone else who sent words of kudos to the Penguins and their fans. I'll never do that.

I'm not going to congratulate them for winning the Cup. I'm not going to be gracious in defeat and think about how the Penguins' fanbase is just like ours and they deserve to celebrate a Cup as much as we do. The better team lost, as it happens in sports sometimes. I'll never forget this loss, and I'll never forgive the city of Pittsburgh or Sidney Crosby. I just won't. Call me a sore loser, but that's what I do. I'm not going to give Ohio State credit when they beat Michigan, and I'm sure as hell not going to give anybody in a Penguins uniform credit for somehow upsetting the Wings in seven unholy games.

This loss was so gut-wrenching, such a train wreck of emotions that for a couple days, I thought about giving up everything I owned that was associated with the Red Wings. I swore I'd never watch hockey again. But a weekend with family in town allowed me to collect my thoughts, store this horror deep down inside me and move on, temporarily. I will follow my Wings through thick and thin, but I don't plan on writing about them this summer.

So, this post serves mostly as a notice for my occasional readers. Hockey will not come up again until October, when the Wings start their season in Stockholm against the St. Louis Blues. I don't care who they sign in the offseason, I don't care what they do about Hossa; I'll root for whoever is wearing that winged wheel in October. I'll be following in the shadows, of course, but I'll find other things to write about in the meantime. I just don't want to think about hockey again for a while. This was just too much.

If you read my stuff for any reason (you're obligated to love me as a part of the family, you stumbled upon the site when you were searching for the quote from Ferris Bueller or you genuinely have nothing better to do) I appreciate it. But for the next couple months, this will just be another part of the pointless blogosphere that has no rhyme or reason. It's just writing. I hope you stick around, but I won't feel slighted if you decide to skip it on your usual blog rounds.

I need sleep. It seems to be the only place, other than home, where I'm finding peace right now. Work is a zoo and my apartment is quiet and empty. Sleeping is a comfort.

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