I get no kick from champagne, and I get no joy from hockey. The Wild were up 2-0 in the first in Vancouver last night. When I went to bed, it was 2-1 in the second. When I checked the score at about 2 a.m. (yes, I wake up in the middle of the night thinking about hockey, and I have my phone right there ready with the scores), we'd lost 2-4. Four unanswered goals to lose our fourth straight.
I'm calling Steve Crane today to tell him not to get tickets to the Wild/Blue Jackets game. I'm not paying $130 to watch my team go through the motions as they try to stay healthy for next season. Because this season saw my Seahawks fall to 4-12 and miss the playoffs for the first time in six years, and my Wild won't be returning, either.
I totally suck at picking things. My teams never win championships, my bands die to early (that's mostly not true...I have an incredible taste in music...easily better than that of anyone I know, save for one of my coworkers), my TV shows all get cancelled after a season, and my restaurants all close down or become sports pubs with TVs in them. I hate restaurants with TVs in them.
Defense is on its heels, and can't bring the runner down until he powers forward for six.
Life's ball: 2nd and 4 on my 16.
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