I just watched Dustin Penner score with 0.2 seconds left in the second period, so pardon me if my thoughts are jumbled.
This series is hitting me hard. As I watch this game my mother lies in her bed in a skilled nursing facility in Town and Country, her battle with a brain tumor approaching its inevitable conclusion. I sit in Brooklyn, drinking wine and over-thinking life, the universe, and our city's connection to it's professional hockey team.
I am a die-hard sports fan. I wasn't born that way, my mother made me that way. Whether it was late nights watching the blues in double overtime in the 2nd round of the playoffs or frequent weekend trips to Peoria to watch the future Blues in action, my mother bled blue through and through. She gave that to me. It was, with the exception of life, the greatest gift she ever gave me. To deeply care about grown men competing with other grown men in sports has become a lifelong obsession. It has grown to include baseball, football, college sports, golf, tennis, soccer, and any other sport. Hockey, however, remains my first love.
I'm writing this because I need some catharsis. Catharsis for this series, this season, and for my Mother's long battle with cancer.
My mother has been battling for 5 years. The Note needs to battle for one more period.
While the outcome of this game isn't certain, I know that the same mentality that the Blues have had over my lifetime is the same mentality that has allowed my mom to survive so long. No matter what happens, I will love the Blues like I love my mother.