Like Lady Bee, I’m still reeling from watching my beloved hockey team, the Washington Capitals, crash and burn on Monday night. It’s so bad, that I can’t even watch hockey. I know, it’s really bad. Since I’m used to this annual heartbreak, I can’t understand why, this year, I’m so depressed about it.
It’s not like the Caps don’t do this to me every single year. This year I was so indifferent about hockey. I was mad about the lockout, but as a season ticket holder, I was excited to get back to Verizon Center and spend time with my hockey family. That was what I looked forward to: happy hours, victory beers, inside hockey jokes, good times with friends and making fun of our players – not so much the hockey.
And, as expected, the hockey was mediocre. That is until March. The Caps caught fire. Ovi was a scoring machine. Goals were plentiful. The goaltending was unbeatable. Everything was clicking at the right time.
As teams started clinching playoff spots, the Caps were right up there in the hunt, clinching the division with three games left to play. It felt like maybe this was our year. Maybe we got hot at just the right time; so hot that we’d be a force to reckon with in the playoffs.
The first round started and, again, we were on fire, going up 2-0. Then the wheels fell off. We lost two games in MSG, which is not too bad. There were still two home games left for us to win. We squeaked out an OT win in Game 5, got shutout in Game 6 1-0 and the series was heading back to DC. Perfect. We’ll clinch on home ice. The second round will start pretty soon after, so I better figure out what my pla….STOP. The Caps are the Caps, remember?
Then Game 7 happened, and I don’t want to relive it again, so there is no recap. I just know it was bad. There was some hope at some points, just not enough. Now I sit here, hating hockey all over again. I can’t even watch other teams play. I just want to be done with it. Give the Cup to the Blackhawks already and let’s move on.
I’m trying to use baseball as my crutch until I feel like a decent sports fan again, but even that is hard. It didn’t help that Jim Johnson blew a save last night and lost the Orioles the game.
But I’m trying to move on. It’ll come eventually. When it does, you’ll get your Playoff Beard Awards (as promised) and more Hump Day Hotties, but until then I’ll be sulking in the corner watching The Voice if you need me.
So, if you’re like me and need a coping mechanism, here’s a musical bromance to distract you from your team’s suckitude.