Yesterday was a special day, a day for celebration and festivity and gaiety. A day for love and observance and gratitude. It was game #5 in the Lightning vs. Islanders series!
Did you think I meant Mother’s Day? Hell no, hockey was on!
I’ve often said I’d love to see my Lightning play again like they actually know what they are doing, and they delivered yesterday with a vengeance. Ben Bishop blocked shot after shot (a total of 28, to be exact), and other players stepped up to ferociously fill Steven Stamkos’ void (he’s still out after surgery, in case you are, for some bizarre reason, not well-versed in the goings-on of my hockey team).
Instead of cursing endlessly at the TV and resorting myself to yet another loss as my team fumbled about with the puck like clumsy kittens with yarn, I was excited and energized to see them weave out intricate plays on the ice, defend aggressively, and score. Then score again…and again…and again.
A frustrated team becomes an angry and violent team, and the Islanders were no exception, starting several fights, smashing sticks into the boards, pulling penalties. They had good reason to be frustrated: they were ultimately shut out, 4-0, and eliminated from the play-offs.
My mother is not at all interested in hockey, so I’m sure she is not even aware of the dazzling performance that took place yesterday. If I would have told her, I’m sure she would have replied with a vague “Hmmmm”, which is Mom-speak for “Wow, I can’t even count how many ways I sincerely don’t care.”
No hockey jersey for Mama Smirking Cat this year! Maybe by next year, I will have finally converted her to the wise ways of hockey fandom.