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Dissapointment

One word usually cannot tell all but with the St Louis Blues and their fans the word disappointment does tell the story.

I was dropping off the girl scout cookies at my parents (purple and blue boxes). I walked in and my dad was sitting in the kitchen and he was only 1 month into recovery for a deviated septum and to clear a massive growth in his sinus canal which almost took his life. We started to talk all things sports and he offered me a cold drink and we sat discussing the St Louis Blues history a bit. He was born in 1948 and me in 1976. Tomorrow there would be a tribute to Hull and Oates in St Louis and my dad recalled how just about every shift they were on the ice you were expecting a goal. I followed that story line and was telling my dad that it was almost as if you knew when they were going to score by the fluctuations in the pitch of Ken Wilson's voice. We did watch some games when they were televised on Channel 11 (we didn't have cable), but most the time it was KMOX.

We smiled a bit remembering those days and then my dad started telling me a story about the first few years the Blues were a team and how they lost the Cup Finals 3 years in a row. My dad is a painter and an artist and when they opened the 67 season he was telling me that him and the painting crew he worked for were hired by a lady responsible for the workers who would paint the numbers on the seats. The painters were allowed to come down to the games on Saturday nights and were let in the big gates for free by the said lady they were working for. He let me know that going to a game on a Saturday night was a big deal, the games were social gatherings with people dressing up to go see the games played. The whole story I could see in his eyes disappointment. I understand the disappointment but not in the same context as someone who has watched, listened and went to games for 20 more years than myself. The conversation changed to how he used to listen on the radio to Dan Kelly and pretend he was a goalie making saves with the pillows on his bed as blockers, gloves and pads. I told him I did the same thing in my bed except I actually put on that old pair of hockey gloves you gave me that now have the leather on the palms completely worn away and are now safely stored away somewhere.

I thought I was invincible with those gloves on, I didn't care about the Stanley Cup. I think I thought the Blues were already the champions because my dad liked them and it sure sounded like they were the champs by the way the radio sounded. Now a days it seems like all I care about is the Blues winning that damn Cup. Living in St Louis we have all the baseball championships one could want, spoiled with them to be honest.

It sucks to see your dad with that disappointed look, it sucks to know how much we both used to enjoy the games and how we both now feel the same thing, disappointment, year in and year out. We used to watch games together, go the games, in fact my dad wants to go to one more he said. He wants to bring me and my Wife and my brothers and sisters and their spouses as well. Hearing the exit interviews year after year and not seeing the push from the players you thought were going to push makes it difficult to pick any elimination game, I guess those games are saved for the soon to be disappointed family and fans.

Dissapointed the Blues can't play 110% for an entire game and have every player playing at that 110%.

UGH

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