The Resurrection

I'm back. Probably not on a regular basis because I've got a college newspaper to run with a brand new website and two hockey writing internships starting up soon (covering UNH men's hockey for USCHO.com and the Manchester Monarchs for InsideHockey.com) and I'd like to spend some time savoring this senior year of college, but I'll do my best to get back with some thoughtful content once every couple weeks.

Anyway, here's that Photoshop of the Anaheim Lovefest that I promised weeks ago. I'm no Photoshop pro yet, but I'm working on it. Regardless, I think its beauty outweighs its flaws.

I watched some Red Wings hockey tonight. Their final preseason game against *gulp* the whores of Pittsburgh. The Wings came out on top, 4-1, but I couldn't help but think of those painful mid-June days that made me want to coat myself in oil, light a match and jump of a cliff. And that troubled me. I've dealt with playoff disappointments before, but every other time I've been able to deal with it over the summer and don the Winged Wheel with pride again in the fall.

Not this time.

I still wear that glorious red jersey with pride, but there's a certain sting that accompanies it right now. I'm not sure I'm ready for hockey season. In fact, I'm practically dreading it.

In the past few years, I can barely stand to watch Versus or the NHL Network because of how much crap they spew about Pittsburgh and their highness, Ms. Cindy Rosby the Queen Bitch of Doucheland. And that was all before he "won" a championship. Now, can you imagine how many of Lil' Gary's NHL commercials are going to end with a clip of Rosby and the Cup? I want to puke just thinking about it.

There's so many reasons I'll be happy to see hockey games start up again: Lidstrom playing perfectly. Datsyuk dangle danglin'. Zetterberg and Franzen domination. Kronner's "illegal" hits. Raffy and the most potent power play in the league. Hell, even a little dose of Osgood and his schizophrenic, regular-season self will be a nice change from an inevitable Tigers' postseason loss and more of the same from the Lions.

But some scars have yet to heal. There was some asshole standing next to me at the bar this weekend wearing a Rosby shirt/jersey, and I nearly stabbed him with my straw out of mere instinct. I want the Wings to have their revenge, but I don't think I can handle about eight more months of waiting, all the while hearing about the Wings' demise and the Blackhawks' surge and the Penguins' repeat. Ugh.

I don't know. I can tell from other Wings' blogs that they're raring to go: Tyler at TheTripleDeke has promised a recap after every contest, Kris at Snipe Snipe, Dangle Dangle is posting all sorts of new excitement and Animal Drew at Nightmare on Helm Street is always on top of his game. But I'm not sure I want to jump on the ice just yet. I'm thinking a few more weeks of following these new Michigan Wolverines sounds a lot better, while I keep an eye on the Wings from the shadows. I'll join 'em when I'm ready. Now just seems like a little too soon.