Here’s the thing. I don’t know how much more of this I can possibly take before my heart just gives the hell up and explodes.
Tying the game in the last 30 seconds?
Triple overtime victory?
I have a headache today that would have a rhinoceros begging for its mommy and this Bruegger’s coffee that chased down those four Advil is doing nothing to alleviate it.
This morning at the bus stop a woman in her early fifties who I never would have taken for a hockey fan — I mean, cross-stitching and cat-raising maybe, but not a hockey fan — saw that I was reading the PG and was all, “Did you see that? So stressful! And Gonchar! Does it say in there what’s wrong with Gonchar?!”
The bus was emptier than usual and quiet, too, as I imagine lots of Burghers are just like me. Real frickin’ tired. Saucy is all, “Girl, we cannot keep this up. These late, tortured nights.” And this morning, may God Jedi this coffee right out of my hands if I’m lying, I saw a pigeon on Fifth only half-heartedly pecking at a baby bird. I mean, he wasn’t even aiming for the eyes.
But it’s a GOOD kind of tired. It’s a winning kind of tired.
I just want to say this and I’m not saying this because we’re going to lose tomorrow or anything. I’m saying this because I feel these things in my heart.
1. If we do not win the cup this year, what last night’s game proved is that our boys deserved to be in the final more than anyone. Despite what NBC, Versus, and the rest of the world might think. Which brings me to:
2. NBC, Versus, and every anti-Penguins network/sportscaster can kiss my ass, and according to T&A, all of our asses.
First, whenever they’re doing game summaries during the game, they only show the hits that the Pens are taking. Never/rarely will you see a hit a Red Wing took at the hands of the Pens. And I’m pretty sure Brooks Orpik has got some hits in there at some point.
Also, did you notice in game three I think it was when that annoying bald guy that they SO VERY ANNOYINGLY place in between the teams’ benches was all, “Here between the benches, I can tell you that there is a very different atmosphere right now. Over there on the Red Wings side, as you can see, they are calm, composed, collected, assured in THEIR IMMINENT and DESERVED VICTORY [camera pans to the Red Wings staring into the ice not doing much of anything], while over here, the Penguins are anxious, nervous, loud, desperate, and frustrated because THEY SUCK HAIRY GOAT BALLS [camera pans to the Pens who are staring into the ice not doing much of anything].”
I paraphrased some of that. I’ll let you decide which parts.
Anyway, I know I’ve said this a lot this week, but I have to say it now. That bald guy can bite me.
3. Remember what I said about Maxime Talbot looking like Jesus? Jesus DOES save, y’all. And he does it with 30 seconds to go.
4. What I said last week was true. We don’t need to be the better team, and let’s be honest, we were outplayed last night. But our boys. They found a way to win. Which brings me to point number 5.
5. These guys of ours. Young, old, taking speeding pucks to their already broken noses and then coming back out to take some more. (Which, Ryan Malone’s already high-priced stock SKYROCKETED in my portfolio last night. Stratosphere.)
They are warriors.
There is no better word than the image that that word flicks to my mind’s eye. They fight until there is no fight left and then they dig down somewhere deep to a place that most of us don’t even have in our hearts, and they pull out more fight.
As a wussy scaredy-cat that had to turn away from NBC occasionally because it was getting to be too much, I can’t comprehend that kind of tenacity.
It’s a beautiful thing to see.
But not as beautiful as seeing Sidney Crosby lay his hands on the Stanley Cup.
And that’s not a matter of if, it’s a matter of when.
EDITED TO ADD:
Reader Ralph pointed out this similarity and I had to do a side-by-side to see for myself:
I think I’m going to call Pierre McGuire “Turtee” from now on.