The Season Ends Tonight

Black Wednesday (At least that's what they'll call it in Vancouver)

Either way, like I've said, this is the best year I've ever had.  And after the game I'm going to be sad, no matter what. Sad to see the game gone for the summer. There really isn't anything like the real thing. The offseason, to recycle a joke I used elsewhere, is like trying to fight a cigarette addiction by rolling up paper napkins and breathing through them. I wish it could go on. This seems like a series that ought to be best of 23 instead of 7.  Hell let's just have them keep playing until next season gets ready to start. But they can't. It'd be bad for hockey, or something.

I've made my preparations for tomorrow. To mourn the end of the season. And hopefully to celebrate the Cup (as previously predicted 29-0). I'm not a beer guy. It's not my thing. I've tried good beers, bad beers, and all kinds of stuff in between. And I just don't like it.  Don't know what I'll be drinking instead, but I'll share with anyone that wants to pop by.

Don't know what your plans are for after the game. But I'm going to sit out on my porch. Listen to some blues, maybe Muddy Waters or Buddy Guy (Probably Charlie Musslewhite). Enjoy a cigar. And see how deep into Thursday morning I get from Wednesday night.

If you're not a cigar person this will be boring, skip the paragraph.  I've got a My Father Limited Edition. These guys don't wuss around when it comes to making cigars. And they really don't wuss around with their limited editions. I had one of these once a year ago. Flat out, the best cigar I've ever smoked. The sell them in their own individual wooden boxes that are numbered. And in some very odd fit of whimsy. Or maybe pretending I was cooler, richer, or more awesome than I am decided it was a good idea to spend twenty bucks on something I'm going to set on fire. I've been waiting for a really good reason to set it on fire ever since then. If Boston can swing it, a cup victory would be a great reason to take some cedar to it. No cup win, I may still smoke it, cigar like that will take the sting out of the disappointment.

If you're happy being sad, this paragraph is not for you. The most important part of smoking a cigar and listening to music is the alcohol though. There is a drink called Ron Zacapa. It is a rum made in Guatemala by some amazing people on top of some mountain somewhere. A friend of mine introduced to me to Ron. And that may be the most important reason why he’s going to be my best man at my wedding next year. Since it’s made at altitude in order to age correctly it has to spend 23 years in an oak barrel. It smells like caramel and wood. And it tastes like vanilla, caramel, sex, and unicorn farts. If you put more than two ice cubes in it, it’s alcohol abuse. A purchase of a bottle of this stuff is an investment in satisfaction with life. They only sell it in liquor stores because there are currently no retailers that vendor happiness. Don’t buy it because I recommend it, buy it for yourself.

I want to remember this year. I want to remember this series. All of it. I want to be able to tell my kids about every anxious moment. I want to tell them about the Game 7, Black Wednesday, or whatever nickname it gets. The day that will live with me like the 04 World Series. Or Rondo's elbow game of these past NBA playoffs. I've grown up with stories. From my father, my uncles, and my grandfather (and the cool aunt, everyone has the one cool aunt). They told me about the games they saw, the memories they made. And this night, win or lose, will be a story for me. To give to my kids and continue the family tradition of telling stories, remembered with advantages, of old games lost in the chaos of ESPN. There is no sport quite like hockey.

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