Mr. Miller's BLOG
A Tough AdmissionPosted on May 25, 2010
I've had a couple of days in which to genuinely reflect on all that's happened surrounding the Blackhawks trip to the Stanley Cup Finals. The explosive media coverage, the talk online, messages from friends, and the email from Ticketmaster telling me my Stanley Cup tickets have been printed.
What can I say? I'm giddy.
That's right. Giddy. The same term I'd probably use to describe how a 12-year old girl would feel at her first Justin Bieber concert. I sort of have this overwhelming urge to scream and cry both at the same time. I'm anxious and perhaps a bit unfocused.
I've found myself checking the message boards about every 15 minutes; I constantly think of ways to update the site; I read all the articles in the papers; I actually wait for the next person to stop by my cube and ask "So? How 'bout them 'Hawks?".
And it's only Tuesday. I've got four more days of this!
Now before any other fan rips me unmercifully for this, you feel the same way too. You just won't admit it using the same term, but the feelings are no doubt mutual.
Friends and Family
When I pulled into the drive on Sunday after the game, my wife was there on the front porch with a big smile on her face jumping up and down with excitement. Upon getting a big hug from her, I look into the house and see two-year old Son #2 running around waving his arms chanting "Hawk Hawk Hawk". Clearly a moment to be remembered.
Soon after I received a text message, a Facebook post, and a pair of emails congratulating me on the Blackhawks sweep. I'm a fan, yes, but I didn't lose seven teeth in the game. I don't deserve any acknowledgement for the Blackhawks' success, but it was touching to have felt like it. Albeit indirectly and temporarily.
Your Tickets Have Been Printed
If either the 'Hawks or Flyers sweep, this point is moot. But I was fortunate enough to get tickets for games #5 and #7 at the United Center (should the series go that far). After panicking for a few days wondering where my tickets were, I had an ear-to-ear smile when I checked my in-box to see that they are, in fact, on their way.
I've already had offers from friends to go with me. I was asked what I'd sell them for.
They're simply non-negotiable. Anyone who knows me should know that. How does that saying go: "All the King's horses and all the King's men can't keep me from watching the Blackhawks win the frickin' Stanley Cup"? Well. It's something like that.
20 Years and Counting
Playing in the Stanley Cup Finals isn't a once-in-a-lifetime situation for the Blackhawks. Many people seem to forget (and understandably so), the 1992 sweep at the hands of Mario Lemieux's Pittsburgh Penguins. In many ways, I do to. I was a senior in college and while the interest was there, it was passive.
But like so many other fans, I experienced firsthand the gradual decline in our beloved Blackhawks. I were there when it was just myself and 5,000 of my closest friends at the UC. I endured Mike Smithov's Russian experiment. I toiled through a decade of no post season appearances.
Fortunately, I also witnessed the rebirth.
I still think McEgo is getting more credit than he deserves and in some ways has done more harm than good. Yet the end result is the success on the ice and there's no arguing the rapid rise in the 'Hawks success over the past three seasons.
The ride isn't over, for sure. The Flyers didn't make it to the Finals based on luck and whether or not it's real doesn't matter: the Hossa curse still weighs heavily in my mind.
But I'll promise this:
Should the Blackhawks hoist Lord Stanley's Cup, I'll finally stop putting it off and get that tattoo of Justin Bi.., no wait, the Indian Head as I've always promised myself that I'd do someday.
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