So here I am watching game seven of the Stanley Cup Finals. Maybe it’s because it’s the last hockey game for a few months. Maybe I’m just bored. Or maybe it’s my masochistic streak coming through again.
I have to give the NHL credit: only they could come up with finals matchups, two out of the past three years, where I actually find myself rooting for a team from New Jersey. I mean, the Ducks have certainly proven at this point that the Wings didn’t screw up, because they have been a team possessed by something all through the playoffs. Combined with what happened to my sister’s Yankees in the playoffs last year, you get the feeling that Michael Eisner wouldn’t exactly be welcome in the Shannon household?
Honestly, at this point I’m expecting them to find something in the water in Anaheim at some point. The Angels’ playoff run or the Ducks’ playoff run, taken alone, would be suspicious enough, but for both teams to do it in less than a calendar year … something’s just not right. The only real hope I have at this point is that the game does monster ratings (for hockey, anyway), and interest in hockey picks up here in the the States.
Oh, and Wings win the cup in 04. You heard me.