Yesterday, as my family gathered for the Pens game, sitting out on my sister’s deck enjoying the sunshine, listening to the sounds of neighborhood kids playing hockey in the street, the dog barking because he’d really like to get his chops on that there hockey ball, the grill crackling with peppers, steaks, and cobbed corn, we began discussing what was to come. The Game. Oh, God. The Game! [hand wringing]
My mother, the world’s greatest fair weather fan (I’m going to buy her a necklace charm with that on it), was sure the Pens were going to lose in epic fashion. She regularly will bust out at least once a game with, “Sometimes I hate the Penguins.”
My father was doubtful they could pull it off, as was my brother-in-law. My sister was silent, probably because she was imagining dirty things that have to do with Sidney Crosby.
I was positive. They are winning the game. There is no way they’re losing today. You just watch. They’re going to come out with fire.
From the grill he was manning, my brother-in-law let out some kind of snort. Seated at the table across from me, my father gave me one of those looks you give a little kid who swears that she just saw the Easter Bunny in the backyard having a smoke with Elvis. My mother laughed and shook her head at poor delusional PittGirl. “Oh, PittGirl actually believes they’re going to win.”
I said, “All y’all are HATERS.”
And I got a lecture that no, we’re not haters, we’re just realistic.
Yeah, well PBTHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
Huh? Huh? What did I say?
I’ll tell you what I said to my family. I said, “Listen, we may not be the better team, but the better team does NOT always win. We don’t need to be the better team; we just need to figure out a way to win games.”
When Sidney Crosby scored his first goal, which, would you look at his face?
My family’s faces were like that to the power of ten. Freaking out. You could hear the neighborhood freaking out. People screaming. Dogs barking. Angels getting their wings.
My sister said, exactly like this, word for word, kind of quietly then louder so her husband could hear it: “I would totally have Sidney Crosby’s baby and I wouldn’t even make him pay child support.”
Today, I think we’d all like to have Sidney Crosby’s babies.
One down. Three to go. Keep the faith, because at some point, Geno is totally going to show up.