He shoots....He SCORES!
I can't tell you how many times in my life I've heard those words, but it's a lot. Growing up, I was surrounded by hockey fans, but none more rabid than some of my own family members. From the time my brother could walk, he was playing "hockey" in the long hallway of our suburban home. By himself. He was both goaltenders, and the only player, but for hours, he'd entertain himself. The hardwood floor told the tale of all of his games. When he got a little older, he played the sport on a team, on real ice. And then, well, life has a way of going on, but he still adores hockey and his beloved Red Wings. I doubt he's missed attending, watching or listening to a single game--especially playoff games.
Late last night, I knew I wouldn't be disturbing him by shooting a text when the Wings finally threw a little chum on the ice for the Sharks and drew blood. Of course he was awake and watching. I can count on him being right where he's supposed to be during a game because he is a die hard fan, not a fair weather associate.
He was a fan when everyone here called his favorite team the Dead Wings. The franchise couldn't give away tickets in those days and it was not uncommon to see empty seats in the arena. Still, my brother had faith, and for that he was rewarded with some hockey fan glory days. Even though this series with the Sharks was not going our way, I doubt my brother's faith was tested.
Mine own was wavering. I had visions of a sweep, and not the way the one with the Coyotes went down...more like last year's with the Sharks. Going into game 4, down by 3 games, the Wings pulled a rabbit out of the hat and forced game 5. Against all odds, last night they forced game 6 and my brother's team is still alive in the playoffs.
I'm quite sure that's no surprise to a man with faith.