Sometimes.....sometimes I feel so far away. I mean it's 836 miles from my tiny house to Mellon Arena, and the other day while grinding it out at my 9 to 5 a guy walks in, last name Crosby and when I ask sarcastically if he's related to Sidney he looks at me like I'm stupid and says "Naw, don't think so but there are a lot of us Crosbys around these parts." I just smile and say yes sir because I know at home there is a DVR that understands me with a fresh game ready and waiting for me to hope against hoping that we can squeak out a desperately needed 2 points.
All these different things were beginning to weigh me down, depress that very large portion of my brain that requires sports action and feeds off my teams winning - and man was it starving. It was about that time this Bylsma guy walks on the scene with his positivity and stock pile of motivationally minded quotes, and I'm thinking, "Yeah we'll see."
But what do you know, we beat the Habs (okay, beginners luck), then the Flyers (and oh how sweet that was), and then New York (swet baby Jesus, could this be for real?), and then...then the Hawks the freaking Hawks and we beat 'em and all I can say is, "I can't f-ing believe it," even though inside I feel like I could bounce off my living room walls like a pinball machine.
Maybe we can pull it off, maybe it has nothing to do with Bylsma, maybe we can finish strong and make the playoffs and and no one will care either way. All I know is we're doing something and doing it right and all hoping and speculation and controversey aside, we look good and I'm not just talking about sometimes.