It's not that I'm not upset. It's not that I don't care. Bear Jesus knows, I do.
But I haven't broken anything. I'm not still fuming. I'm not wondering how the hell I'm supposed to watch the rest of these playoffs without comitting violent felonies. I'm not frantically googling the home addresses of the officials on the ice throughout this series.
I'm just, being.
I guess tonight is not the night for the rants and raves that have been the backbone and foundation of The Winged Wheel since its inception. Tonight, I just want to put out a hearty stick tap to the greatest team in sports. They had a hell of a season. They battled through serious adversity and overcame. A rookie goaltender stood on his head despite all predictions otherwise. Larry Aurie marched to the sea, leaving behind scorched earth and a heaping bounty on the trainers' tables. New faces were brought in, and I'll be damned if Kenny Holland didn't work his magic and pull out some major gems from nowhere. There were rookie phenoms, sophomore slumps, veteran resurgences, and Todd Bertuzzi.
And that's just the product on the ice. Nevermind Herm to Hockeytown, the explosion of Wings blogs, and who could forget the earth-shattering birth of The Winged Wheel.
So, for now, I put my patented bitching on hold. A huge stick tap to the Wings for a great season. A bigger stick tap to anyone who has bothered reading this drivel over the past months. More to come regularly over the summer (ugh... summer). In the name of Bear Jesus, the Liquor Christ, and Steve Yzerman:
- Go Wings!
...is it fucking October yet.... (Ah, shit, there it is.)