They promised this would be the one, that this time around would be different from all the others. That’s what you were led to believe.
And you believed.
This was something altogether new, the same moving parts as before with a little tinkering here and there… but better than you had been used to, flashier yet substantial, deeper and more meaningful. The years of watching, and waiting, had finally resulted in “the one.” Out with the old and in with the new and improved.
We’re moving on with the times, you know. The whole if-at-first-you-don’t-succeed mantra put into full effect.
You had seen qualities you didn’t care for in the past, disposed of them, shopped around, made some real, effective changes, found different bits and pieces that would make things better this time, more long-lasting and again, more meaningful.
And you believed. You believed with a passion.
You had lived and loved before. You had given in, made yourself vulnerable, opened up your heart. This newer version was all you needed to believe in love again… that this… would… be… the… one.
Silly rabbit.
I run into people sometimes that tell me they’re not sports fans. I scoff at the idea. How do they look themselves in the mirror every morning? How could they not engage themselves fully? How do they take themselves seriously? What do these people do in their spare time, I mean, other than dedicate their time to something far more productive?
Perhaps I should be asking myself the very same question because these losses… Oof! I haven’t experienced one like that in quite some time.
Don’t get me wrong. I’ve suffered loss before, plenty of times. It’s nothing new to me. I’ve fallen in love plenty with this one or that, you know, dabbling a little. They just didn’t pan out.
But this time just felt different, seemed like the one. Ready to take the next step if you know what I mean, to happiness, to glory, to riding off into the sunset.
Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all, my ass. Fuck you, Shakespeare. Clearly you were never a hockey fan.
These are the kind of losses that leave battle scars. The glass-half full lover says they build character. Excuse me if my glass is running a little low.
Whoever says rooting for your favorite sports team is rewarding has never cheered to their heart’s content and had it left crushed, weathered, vapid, stomped on a cement floor littered with empty plastic cups, ticket stubs and cracked open peanut shells.
Pick it up, they say. Dust it off. There will be another chance. There always is. But isn’t that what they said the last time?
Helluva series, bro. One team had to lose. For once, I can’t believe it wasn’t the team I root for. 20 years since their last Cup appearance and I remember watching that from my sister’s couch as an intern in Boston, while still attending PSU.
Not a bad birthday present for you, huh, KP.
Yea, that one’s gonna leave a mark, man.
Congrats on your Caps. They just wanted it more.
And for the Lightning, and their fans, it is once again back to the drawing board.
Ovechkin is a monster. Does he ever not try to hit the black off the puck? Dude slaps that thing harder than Ike Turner.
Keep your head up 2Chump, there’s always next year…
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nvWADo6KPzA
This town is going nuts over the Vegas Golden Knights. Even more so now that TBay has lost. This gives Vegas the home ice advantage in the Finals.
Now the financials. If Vegas wins the Cup, the sportsbooks will take a HUGE HIT. Preseason odds as high as 500-1. One owner, known for his frugal ways said, “Oh, I don’t care about the $$. It’s good for the city.” Hypocrisy at its highest. He’s been on record for 86ing wannabe card counters for betting red chips.
“Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all, my ass. Fuck you, Shakespeare. Clearly you were never a hockey fan.”
Best. Sentence. Ever.
Bleed…
I definitely fell for the banana in the tailpipe this year. Just seemed like this was our time.
I watched Steve Yzerman’s (IN STEVE WE TRUST) post-game presser and it made me feel a little better. Put things in perspective.
Just a tough one to swallow.
Fuckers.
Bets…
My money is on Washington, especially at plus money.
No disrespect to the Knights but I think the novelty will wear off.
Thank you, Kimberly.
I’m trying to muster up the words “good season” but I just can’t quite bring myself to do it yet.
In my house, this was either going to come from you of Mrs. J-Dub…who by the way nailed the Knights and the Caps in the Final…
We’re still a little stewy from that one, Dubs. Thought we had ’em right where we wanted ’em after stealing home ice back.
Guess it’s back to the Stevie Y drawing board.
Congrats to the one who wears the pants in the household for picking the Cup correctly.
Who’s she got, by the way?
I don’t need no diamond ring
I don’t need no Cadillac car
Just want to drink my Ripple wine
Down in the Lightnin’ Bar
Down in the Lightnin’ Bar
Get ’em next year!
Deac…
That’s Aerosmith, right?
It’s a little blues ditty I picked up. Kind of matched my mood at the time.
Aerosmith does have an album of great old blues songs titled Honkin’ on Bobo. It’s worth a listen, cheers my friend!
Guess that lover finally got to the next level, SC! #BoltsWinTheCup