It's my fault. I apologize to the team, the fans, and to the Pens who might think they still have a chance.
We had the game won. We were up 3-2 with less than 40 seconds separating us from hoisting the Stanley Cup high over the ice in Hockeytown. The fingers were poised over the buttons to send confetti blasting into the arena, and many had octopus ready to throw...
But it wasn't over yet. Pittsburg scored in a frantic, last minute play, sending us into unlimited sudden-death overtime. Usually, even these overtimes, only take a few minutes to decide. With Detroit dominating like they were, most were still confident.
But they didn't know what had happened in my basement last night.
Throughout the playoffs thus far, I've had a ritual for each game. I don my #22 Lebda jersey. I hold my stick, with the blade UP, and facing the direction I want the puck to go. I drink ONE IBC cream soda PER game, making it last all 3 periods.
One IBC = 60 minutes of hockey.
Last night, I'd invited some people over to watch the game. Turnout was less than expected, so I had a lot of extra IBC's. At the end of the 2nd period, I was confident in our winning, and so selfishly guzzled the remainder of my first bottle, and cracked a new one open.
Little did I know that would require almost an entire new game being played. It resulted in almost 3 full extra periods of intense hockey...with an unfortunate ending.
Only one will be opened tomorrow night.