It is a clear Tuesday night in mid-November. Two titans come together for a much-anticipated rematch of an epic playoff meeting not too many moons ago. The one team: a well-oiled machine of veteran players and measured rising stars – the undisputed heavy weight champion of the world and large favorite in this prize-fight having stolen one of their challenger’s best players only months before. The other: the youthful challenger still hearing the ring from the final bell of the two’s last meeting fresh in their heads, the sting of that night all too real in their minds. They seek revenge, and they seek it on enemy ground. The stage is set. It is time for war.
The young challengers jump first with a beautiful pass finished with a dazzling display of athleticism to take the lead. The crowd is silent. This is not how they thought it would turn out. It is not long before they are given something to cheer about. Their home warriors show their grit and produce not one, not two, but three unanswered scores. The youthful opponents are visibly shaken. Halfway through the night, the veteran home team has a comfortable two score lead on the seemingly inept squad that had the nerve to challenge their supremacy and they aren’t losing any steam. It looks to be a long trip home for the visitors tonight. They aren’t done. The machine churns out one more. Three scores and time is running short. A minute goes by. The challengers cut into the lead by one. Two minutes. Another cut. Only one score separates the two teams with time to spare. A glimmer of hope! It fades. The machine will not be undone. They score again. Nice try. See you next time. The challengers for some reason keep trying. They make a solid attempt, but the machine’s defenses show no cracks. Well, one. The challengers score with five minutes remaining. Five. Four. Three. Two. One. The defense will not give an inch. Forty-five seconds. Thirty-seconds. It’s not over. With only twenty-three seconds to spare, the challengers make a hail mary attempt that somehow works. The game is tied. The faces on the crowd say simply: You have got to be kidding me.
Overtime. Five minutes on the clock. No one is sitting down. For a few minutes neither team gives way. Just over two minutes remaining. One of the young warrior intercepts one of the machine’s powerful members. Everyone holds their breath. A pass. Only one defender to beat. A prayer. It’s over. The challengers have brought the champions to their knees in spectacular fashion. They have proven that they will not be tossed aside. This year will be different. They are coming for the title they came so close to last year. God save anyone who stands in their way.
When the dust has settled the final score stands:
Pittsburgh Penguins – 7
Detroit Red Wings – 6
The drama and excitement of this game will be hard to top in ANY sport this season, let alone in hockey. And yes, mark my words the Penguins are out for blood. This hockey fan would love nothing more than a rematch of last year’s Stanley Cup Final to grace television this spring. The board is set. The pieces are moving. Who will come out on top? We’ll see.
For now, I could not be more proud of my Penguins.
In case you missed it:
http://www.nhl.com/ice/box