Image by Getty Images via @daylifeI don't blog about sports much, but I figure this is a blogable moment.
In 1972 my family moved from Calgary, Alberta to Vancouver, British Columbia. When I found out that Vancouver had an NHL team, my six year old brain new I had hit the big time, and I've been a loyal fan ever since.
We made it to the finals twice, but couldn't close the deal.
In 2009, we made the playoffs, but lost to the Chicago Blackhawks.
In 2010, we made the playoffs, but lost to the Chicago Blackhawks. Chicago went on to win their first Stanley Cup in decades. Vancouver golfed early, but made key changes, in the hopes of beating Chicago.
In 2011, the Vancouver Canucks had their best regular season in franchise history, finishing atop the league. On the last day of the season, Chicago backed into the playoffs when Dallas failed to beat Minnesota, once again lining Vancouver up against their old nemesis.
OMG, not again. And early on, there was little to fret about. My beloved Canucks went up 3-0 in three close games. In the next two games they looked flat and were demolished by a combined score of twelve to two.
In game six in Chicago, Vancouver stunned everyone by starting rookie backup goalie Cory Schneider over franchise player Roberto Luongo. The Canucks and Schneider played better, but a key giveaway and a penalty shot goal by the rookie tender make the difference.
And in another operatic twist, Schneider cramps up on the penalty shot, and is replaced in goal by franchise player Roberto Luongo.
The Canucks lose in OT 4-3, and now its 3-3, with one game left to play in VanCity and I've got this same sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, like a three year old ulcer that won't go away.
My Vancouver Canucks are on the verge of what could arguably be the worst collapse in the history of sport, a shame so epic that only a future championship could eradicate these goat horns.
One game for all the marbles. One game to slay the dragon.
Vancouver scores in the first three minutes and dominates the rest of the game, but can't put the game away as Chicago goalie Corey Crawford stands on his head. With less than two minutes left Chicago scores shorthanded to tie the game 1-1, and I begin to feel sick to my stomach.
And so we go to an overtime that could scar my Vancouver Canucks for decades, and I start to contemplate what kind of fuel would be best for an old fashioned jersey burning.
Aaaah, never mind, I knew they'd win all along.
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