You know how everybody develops Stanley Cup superstitions this time of year?
Two decades after the fact, Will Dixon and I still blame ourselves for the Leafs losing their 1993 Cup ticket to the LA Kings because we simultaneously broke our cardinal rules of watching the games on the same TV sets to venture out to a Sports bar.
It wasn't an uncalled high stick that cost the Buds their spot. It was a beckoning plate of chicken wings and a pitcher of ice cold beer!
For reasons far too complex to detail, I've watched pretty much every game of this year's Stanley Cup Playoffs in a completely different place in a half dozen different cities. So I can't have that exact same place wearing the exact same T-shirt superstition this time around.
Instead it's become a hunt to make sure I'm not in the same place for each remaining game.
As covered in last week's Pool Report, I saw Game One on a BC Ferry. Game Two I watched in my father's hospital room -- a room somehow continuously filled with nurses just checking that the bed was turned down and orderlies mopping a spit-shined floor.
But since the game went into an overtime that was already past visiting hours, I elected to drive to the nearest corner bar before puck drop.
You know how a car radio can cut out going down those sealed concrete parking ramps. Outages which are short but…?
Yep -- missed the big goal. One minute it's all "The way these two teams have been playing, we might be looking at a very long…" and 12 seconds later, when you're back from the Dark Side of the Moon, all you can hear is screaming and it's only seeing the guy in the ticket booth dancing that tells you who won.
It got me thinking that I need to find somewhere new and exotic for tonight's game if I want the Canuck streak to continue.
Or maybe -- they'll only win if I don't listen at all.
Wow. That's heavy.
Y'know, I've had a couple of other thoughts about this series that nobody seems to have addressed.
First, can you imagine how much this final must be eating Don Cherry alive? A bunch of Swedes, Americans and French Canadians handing his old Alma Mater their asses!
It also has me wondering about the CBC. Not only are upstart NBC's broadcasts eminently more exciting to watch but yesterday the Mother Corp's Radio division devoted a couple of hours to asking whether or not the Canucks really were Canada's team.
Among the callers were the usual suspects taking the opportunity to detail why they didn't watch television let alone hockey or condemned the game for its violence, its celebration of capitalism or for not being the kind of image the world should have of Canada.
Meanwhile, Winnipeg sold 13,000 season tickets in like 10 minutes.
And only the NHL netcam recorded who ended up with the Game winning puck.
In the Infamous Writers Hockey Pool, Tim Stubinski continues to lead with Will Pascoe second and Vancouver lovers Carleen Kyle and Mark Leiren-Young tied for third. Looking at their line-ups, it'll only take a couple of Boston wins or one high-scoring game to change up the leaders.
We still got us a contest!
I'm just not sure if I should be watching. Or who gets an advantage if I don't. Or if I wear a different T-shirt. Change my underwear. Opt for a glass of Chardonnay over another can of…