Black Armband

People have been asking me (specifically at work, where all we talk about is sports) why I don't seem particularly "in" to the Penguins Stanley Cup run. I thought about this for a while, because I am a Penguin fan, but generally I don't pay much attention to hockey. Football is my sport, and I know that shit inside and out.

But I decided tonight, as I was watching the Penguins let the Stanley Cup slip through their grasp, that I can't emotionally get that involved. I physically can't. During football season, I have 16 separate aneurysms while most everyone else is "enjoying the football season." It's really a nightmare. I'm a wreck every Sunday, and it takes so much out of me that by the time the season is over, I'm usually relieved that I don't have to deal with that sort of emotional exhaustion for seven more months.

But with the Penguins making the playoffs, and the city of Pittsburgh basically turned into a town of puckhead maniacs, I had to watch. And when the Pens took the ice for game one of this thing, I noticed my left arm tingling and an acidic coppery taste filling my mouth. I bailed out. I couldn't do it. I was like a little kid watching his first scary movie, covering my face with my hands, only ever so carefully daring to peek through at calculated intervals.

So I'll confess. I haven't watched as much of this series as most true fans. But when the last seconds ticked by tonight, I had the same knot in my stomach as when David Garrard pulled off the most improbable quarterback sneak in the history of the Steelers on 4th and a mile at Heinz Field last year