No more crying on the lawn

Okay, Ken Dryden, I may have been cheering for you at the Liberal party leadership convention, but you ruined my life back in May 1971. It is still a bitter memory today, being reminded that one's favourite team is the only one among 28 that lost a Stanley Cup final series after being ahead 2 games to none at home. The Chicago Black Hawks just couldn't bring it to pass that year. In game 7, while ahead 2 goals to none, my favourite player Bobby Hull, the Golden Jet (father of the Golden Brett) cruised in over the opponents' blue line and let go a terrific slap shot that rang off the cross bar. Had he connected, a three-goal lead likely would have been insurmountable. Alas, the opponents tallied twice to tie the score, then the Pocket Rocket breezed around Pat Stapleton for goal number three, and that was all she wrote.

After the finish of this game, I brutally attacked the foot stool (well, it was one swift kick). Following this outburst, I made my way outdoors to the lawn where I laid down and cried. That's right, I laid down on the lawn and cried. I was sixteen. My disappointment was pronouced following near misses by the Black Hawks almost every year since I was 10. Did I mention that I laid down on the lawn and cried?

I am 52 years old now, and I finally have reason to rejoice and to gloat a little. At last, my favourite NHL team has won it all. Even now I can hardly believe it. The Anaheim Ducks have won the Stanley Cup! During all those years of bearing the taunts of Duck unbelievers, I have cheered for the Mighty Ducks of Anaheim through thick and thin, from their inception in 1993. It was especially sweet to have Teemu come home last year and to share the joy this season. Ducks win!

I have a new lawn now, on a steep hill in Calgary, down which you could easily roll out onto the bumpy street. I have no more need to go cry on the lawn. Did I mention before: "Ducks win!"