THIS IS WHAT IT'S LIKE
when you're up 3-0.
In the Eastern Conference
Finals.
Like the day before Christmas, when you've waited all year, and you're dreaming about what you'll discover when you unwrap those presents under the tree.
Like the day before vacation, when you know the sun will be shining and the ocean breeze will be blowing and you can almost feel the sand warm between your toes.
Like looking forward to a long night's sleep, snuggling and cuddling yourself into bed and knowing that, after just a few more sweet dreams, you'll be primed and ready to face whatever the next day brings.
Like looking into her eyes and knowing, after a long, long time apart, that you're about to kiss her hello.
The last time the Penguins went to the Stanley Cup Finals, I was just a twenty-three-year-old newlywed grad student who loved hockey and counted his blessings and couldn't begin to imagine how it would feel to be 39 and have two sons with whom to play and share the game. I know the Penguins are still one game away. And I know that anything can happen. But I also know that I haven't felt like this in sixteen years and, truth be told, have never really felt like this at all.
One game away is, right now, more than close enough for me. If only because, when you really think about them, those magical nights and possible mornings, those almost-theres and especially those off-day afternoons, are the best and most exciting times of your life, suspended between the delicate joys of all that you've already done and the delicious anticipations of all the wonders that await you.
Like the day before Christmas, when you've waited all year, and you're dreaming about what you'll discover when you unwrap those presents under the tree.
Like the day before vacation, when you know the sun will be shining and the ocean breeze will be blowing and you can almost feel the sand warm between your toes.
Like looking forward to a long night's sleep, snuggling and cuddling yourself into bed and knowing that, after just a few more sweet dreams, you'll be primed and ready to face whatever the next day brings.
Like looking into her eyes and knowing, after a long, long time apart, that you're about to kiss her hello.
The last time the Penguins went to the Stanley Cup Finals, I was just a twenty-three-year-old newlywed grad student who loved hockey and counted his blessings and couldn't begin to imagine how it would feel to be 39 and have two sons with whom to play and share the game. I know the Penguins are still one game away. And I know that anything can happen. But I also know that I haven't felt like this in sixteen years and, truth be told, have never really felt like this at all.
One game away is, right now, more than close enough for me. If only because, when you really think about them, those magical nights and possible mornings, those almost-theres and especially those off-day afternoons, are the best and most exciting times of your life, suspended between the delicate joys of all that you've already done and the delicious anticipations of all the wonders that await you.
Posted: Wed - May 14, 2008 at 02:49 PM
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Published On: Jan 16, 2009 04:50 PM
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Published On: Jan 16, 2009 04:50 PM