![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
totally dejected. sorta.
Okay, here's the thing. A while back, I admitted that hockey matters more to me than Buffy. Hockey, especially playoff hockey, actually matters more to me than rather a lot of things. Schoolwork, sleep, fic, talking to family members, hating my housemates, it's all transcended by Game 3. I think, as far as hockey being more important than my other monomania(s), it's because hockey is 'real'. In my own actual real universe that I share with millions of other people, those guys are really out on the ice, skating their guts out, shooting the puck and hitting the bad guys and coming out of the net when Cheli was right there, Cujo, what the hell were you thinking?!
Um.
So, they lost tonight. They're down three games to none in a best of seven series. I tell myself, they're your guys, you gotta love 'em win or lose, and Don't Be That Detroit Hockey Fan, Don't Lynch the Goalie... But. One more game, one more game and they're gone. Just... gone, back to their kids and their lives and their golf games. Until October. This is... this is like seeing Spike dusted, in slow motion. Except worse, because I have no dvds of past seasons to tide me over. Dammit.
Um.
So, they lost tonight. They're down three games to none in a best of seven series. I tell myself, they're your guys, you gotta love 'em win or lose, and Don't Be That Detroit Hockey Fan, Don't Lynch the Goalie... But. One more game, one more game and they're gone. Just... gone, back to their kids and their lives and their golf games. Until October. This is... this is like seeing Spike dusted, in slow motion. Except worse, because I have no dvds of past seasons to tide me over. Dammit.