Or: Why Did There Have to Be Another Game Seven?
When the Caps went up three games to one last week, I was positively giddy. I honestly couldn't fathom THIS team letting the necks of their playoff opponents go without being stepped on. Plus, I was practically in the clear to head to a show up north that I had purchased tickets to just about two months ago.
Most of us know how the rest of the story between then and now has gone.
So now, I have a ticket to an evening of quality rock in NYC with my lady and some very good friends. I also have a ticket to a game seven of the playoffs. It's no understatement to say that this was one of the hardest decisions I have ever had to make in my entire life. Well, at least as far as decisions between attending hockey games and rock shows in the month of April are concerned.
I'm sorry to say this fellow Caps fans, but I'm boarding a train to Penn Station Wednesday afternoon.
This isn't some form of protest or statement, or a show of indignation towards the Caps. This as an act of somewhat joking self-preservation, in a manner of speaking.
When the Caps win, I will certainly feel a severe pang of regret for missing the win and not being able to celebrate with the faithful at the F Street Arena. I will, however, be there for game one against Philly, ready to bring the noise in a big way.
Should the unspeakable happen, I think it's better for everyone if I am somewhere far, far away. Should I forgo the chance to meet someone I admire a great deal and be there for a seventh game shortfall, it will not be a pretty picture. Let's just say, I tend to get a teensy bit wrapped up in these things.
So please, give the team all you've got and then some! Here's hoping I'll be able to get some guff about this in person in a few days.
Like the title says, I so didn't want it to come to this.
