I woke this morning imagining what the Vancouver Canucks were feeling.
Night before last, they lost game six in Boston (with the Cup in the building and engraver standing by) and lost one of their best players, Mason Raymond. The blow we felt must have been multiplied by a million for the team.
But then they got home yesterday and stepped off the plane, taking in the fresh ocean breeze as the ground rumbled beneath their feet. You see, we’re all pounding on the dirt with our fists. Even as I type, I’ve got one hand to the floor in steady measure:
We Want The Cup.
The jitters must have kept the team up all night…each player staring at Coal Harbor from their Fairmont hotel room, their eyes on the flickering lights of the North Shore, but their mind wholly fixed on a different twinkle—that of a polished trophy they’ll fill with champagne.
The City of Vancouver is alive, united, steely-eyed and ready (albeit with a bit of trepidation). When I took the dog out this morning, you could already feel it on the streets, in the wind, dripping off the leaves with the NW rain. Every other car has a Canuck’s flag; every other resident has either dyed their hair, temporary tattooed their face or bought an over-priced Canuck’s t-shirt. Forget about getting any work done today. Call in sick with Stanley Cup fever.
It’s going to be one for the books, for better or worse.
If When we win, the downtown core will explode into uncontrollable gaiety (yours truly in the middle of it), thousands and thousands of reveelers skipping, jumping off bus stop benches, screaming, cowbelling and high-fiving. A throwback x 100 to the Winter Olympic men’s hockey gold medal win last year against the USA, which is the single best sport moment of my life, to date.
If we don’t win (I shudder even typing that), there could be a similar outpouring of energy, this one not so positive, not so high-fivey, more punch-you-in-the-facey and break-the-windowy and light-trashcan-on-firey. It happened in 1994, when we lost game 7 against the NY Rangers. We’re a passionate bunch here in Vancouver (Mom, don’t worry, I’ll be running in the opposite direction if this is the case).
Newsflash: The City can put away the riot gear and throw on jerseys because we’re going to win. I can feel that, too, and have been visualizing all morning—the Cup over Luongo’s head, Bieksa on his knees crying, champagne corks flying (in the locker room and across Granville). It’s all about the law of attraction, right? Let’s just hope there are more Vancouverites than Bostonians seeing the same things I am.
Regardless of who wins, it’s going to be an exciting day and night. Either bathed in glorious sparkles of joy or devastating pangs of grief.
I see sparkles.
LET’S GO CANUCKS!
We Want The Cup.
Cheer with us tonight: NBC 5pm PST