I proudly donned my favorite personalized Lightning jersey last night in honor of the game against the Chicago Blackhawks, but as it turned out, I may as well have shrouded myself in ceremonial funeral garb. The Blackhawks scored within the first 50 seconds of the game, and it plumetted downhill from there, culminating in a mortifying 5-1 loss. Thankfully I dozed off in the second period, with Gary’s arm serving as my surprisingly comfy pillow, and I didn’t witness the entire gruesome slaughter.
Last night was a special game, however; the Lightning were playing against their old, Stanley-Cup-era goalie, Nikolai Khabibulin, and I got a bit teary-eyed watching him in action again, in the wrong uniform (sorry, Nikolai, you will always be Lightning to me). Had Tortorella any sense, he would have humbly hurled himself prostrate onto the ice, one pleading, quivering hand outstretched toward Nikolai, sobbing and begging him to return to the team so we could actually win a game or two here and there.
(As a totally random side note, doesn’t “Tortorella” sound like the most scrumptious pasta entree? “I’ll have the Tortorella dish with marinara, garlic bread, and red wine, please.”)
Anyway, I woke up, bleary-eyed, long enough to see my team broken and bleeding on the ice, and hobbled off to bed. The Lightning play the Detroit Lions tonight. I will forbid myself to watch that game. I despise Detroit but already know they will make mince-meat of my feeble team, and in order to spare other members of the household an unleashing of profanity worthy of Linda Blair in the Exorcist, I shall abstain from this particular game and read about my team’s trouncing online the following day. (You are most graciously welcome, Gary.)
Nikolai, if you are reading this, as I just know you rush off the ice and immediately hunt down the nearest laptop to see what I wrote about you, I ask you this: are the extra millions you garnered by ditching the Lightning and joining the Blackhawks worth the heartbreak of a blogging hockey fan? Okay, it probably is, but c’mon, it’s not like we’re talking the difference between you not being able to feed your kids or making barely enough to put scraps on the table. We’re talking the difference between 5 versus 10 Ferrari’s in your driveway, for the love of god. And wasn’t your Lightning jersey waaaay cooler than that silly Indian head you wear on your varsity-sweater-resembling jersey now? *sigh* Okay, so you are not coming back. I will resign myself to that. I don’t have to like it though, and I don’t have to stop mocking your new uniform.