By the time I go to sleep again, I will experience a once in a generation event and be either ecstatic and drunk with joy or incredibly disappointed and wondering if I'll ever experience joy again.
I was 9 the last time a day like this happened. Almost 30 years later it has come around again.
Championships have been won. Game 7's have been played. Do or die's have been contested. But nothing compares to a Game 7 in the Finals.
Courtesy of the Pirates, if you can believe that, Pittsburgh had a run of 3 from 1960 through 1979, that being the last one and the last time a road team has won a Game 7 in a Final round of the NHL, NBA or MLB. Not since then have we seen something like this.
The Steelers have played 4 Super Bowls since the last Burgh Finals Game 7. Won 3 of them. But that is a one game matchup. Sometimes, like in February, it takes a bit for the game to heat up, for emotions to come to a boil.
Not in a Game 7, the last of a long series that forces emotions to the fore and hatred for the rival.
The Pirates have all but faded, but their last gasp provided perhaps the most painful Game 7 collapse in history. But it wasn't the final round. Even if Espy catches the ball, Lind fields it like the gold glover he was, Berryhill gets called out on strikes like he was, and yes, Bonds earns a series ending assist, there was still more work to do.
Tonight, or early tomorrow morning, no matter what there will be nothing more to do. Both teams go home. But one gets the prettiest present in all of sports to share with their fans and family all summer long. After a season pushed as far as it can go, that is the reward. Both have come as far as they can, but the teams and their fans will depart will remarkably different feelings and memories from today.
I am somewhat removed from the glow that is burning in both Pittsburgh and Detroit, unable to join the thousands in the Burgh on this collective roller coaster. This time, unlike in 1991 when I drove all day from Tennessee to the Igloo (getting lost and winding up in Kentucky along the way) for Game 2 vs the North Stars and got to witness 66 splitting Chambers and Wilkinson and enjoyed the Pens return with the Cup with thousands of others at old Pittsburgh International, this time I'll be watching from afar.
But even that didn't take 7 games to win. And even Game 7 heroes like Kasparaitis and villains like Volek and Fitzgerald will take a back seat to a Finals Game 7 hero.
Because this day is unlike any other. It's Game 7. Stanley Cup Finals. In the schoolyard for all the marbles.
And sometime Friday morning, I'll fall asleep with memories and emotions that I know won't likely come around again for a long long time, if ever.
Let's Go Pens!
I was 9 the last time a day like this happened. Almost 30 years later it has come around again.
Championships have been won. Game 7's have been played. Do or die's have been contested. But nothing compares to a Game 7 in the Finals.
Courtesy of the Pirates, if you can believe that, Pittsburgh had a run of 3 from 1960 through 1979, that being the last one and the last time a road team has won a Game 7 in a Final round of the NHL, NBA or MLB. Not since then have we seen something like this.
The Steelers have played 4 Super Bowls since the last Burgh Finals Game 7. Won 3 of them. But that is a one game matchup. Sometimes, like in February, it takes a bit for the game to heat up, for emotions to come to a boil.
Not in a Game 7, the last of a long series that forces emotions to the fore and hatred for the rival.
The Pirates have all but faded, but their last gasp provided perhaps the most painful Game 7 collapse in history. But it wasn't the final round. Even if Espy catches the ball, Lind fields it like the gold glover he was, Berryhill gets called out on strikes like he was, and yes, Bonds earns a series ending assist, there was still more work to do.
Tonight, or early tomorrow morning, no matter what there will be nothing more to do. Both teams go home. But one gets the prettiest present in all of sports to share with their fans and family all summer long. After a season pushed as far as it can go, that is the reward. Both have come as far as they can, but the teams and their fans will depart will remarkably different feelings and memories from today.
I am somewhat removed from the glow that is burning in both Pittsburgh and Detroit, unable to join the thousands in the Burgh on this collective roller coaster. This time, unlike in 1991 when I drove all day from Tennessee to the Igloo (getting lost and winding up in Kentucky along the way) for Game 2 vs the North Stars and got to witness 66 splitting Chambers and Wilkinson and enjoyed the Pens return with the Cup with thousands of others at old Pittsburgh International, this time I'll be watching from afar.
But even that didn't take 7 games to win. And even Game 7 heroes like Kasparaitis and villains like Volek and Fitzgerald will take a back seat to a Finals Game 7 hero.
Because this day is unlike any other. It's Game 7. Stanley Cup Finals. In the schoolyard for all the marbles.
And sometime Friday morning, I'll fall asleep with memories and emotions that I know won't likely come around again for a long long time, if ever.
Let's Go Pens!
