Are You Kidding Me? (Part Deux)

See, this time I'm not the only one who asked. Those were seriously the words that came out of the mouth of one of the TSN announcers when Johan Franzen scored his fourth goal of the first period.  As it turns out, the Mule was perfectly, profoundly serious. He wanted to let us all know that he was back, and since he already missed the majority of a hockey season, he had no intentions of stopping the playoff run last night.

(AP Photo)

Holy son of a donkey, Batman! THIS was what we've been waiting for.

I'll admit that I was nervous before the game. I had my fingers, toes, arms, and legs crossed (which made slipping into my Sawchuk jersey a bit of a challenge) but the last 3 games hadn't left me with a whole lot of confidence. Still, when we won the opening faceoff, a flash of shock optimism raced through me and I wondered if this might be it. If this might be the game where the Wings played like, well, Wings, and showed San Jose that when the officiating is fair and the dives are kept to a minimum, Detroit really is the better team.

It was.

I won't recap the thing, because it's already been done, and done by better bloggers than me, but I will take a moment to ask one very important question of this team:

Are you done fucking with me yet? Seriously, can you stop now? Maybe? Because people are starting to leave phone books open to in-patient psychiatric facilities when they see me passing by.

Recently, I facetiously compared my fandom for the Red Wings with being the victim of an abusive relationship, but honestly, I really can't think of a better metaphor. When the Wings are losing, it's like being punched repeatedly in the head by a 300-lb. construction worker with a bad temper and malt-liquor breath; but when they're winning (or at least playing like they did last night), I forget all the past breaks and bruises, unpack my suitcases, and forget I ever doubted that Detroit returns my love with every fiber of their being(s).

Which means that I am once again all sunshine and laughter, with visions of puppies and unicorns dancing through my vision. The Red Wings have convinced me that yet another run for the WC championship is not out of the question, and the Cup is not yet out of our reach. Of course, today's Friday, and the bruises that have faded since Tuesday night could come back with a vengance tomorrow. But until then, I'm all smiles. For the moment, you can even tell that I still have all my teeth.

Don't Worry, Be Happy

Yes, it has been confirmed by our own Khan(!) that Jiri "Happy" Hudler will be back wearing the Winged Wheel next season. I have mixed feelings about this. Yes, it will be good to have his skill and scoring back on the roster, but I happen to be a champion grudge holder, especially irrational grudges, and a part of me will never be able to fully forgive Hudler for deserting us to go to the KHL in search of the filthy lucre. Maybe it's because I know I'll never make that kind of money, but when you've been offered almost $3 mil to stay with the greatest hockey franchise in the history of the game, why would $2 mil more tempt you to go play in a league only die hard hockey fans (and maybe a few Russians) even know exist? I mean, $3mil would be plenty for me, but then I'm not the greedy sort. Also, there's the significant concern over what Hudler's cap hit will mean for a team with a lot of budget juggling already on the boards. I want Hudler back, but I don't want to lose Eaves. Or Miller. Or really most anyone else. Wait, maybe I am greedy...

Anyway, Huds will be back next season, but in the meantime, we have the rest of the playoffs on our plate to keep our minds and the Wings' bodies occupied. It's only Round 2, after all, and in spite of last night's 4-3 loss to San Jose, I remain bafflingly optimistic regarding our ability to prevail and make it through to Round 3. Indeed, there seems to be an odd mood of optimism around the blogosphere this morning. No one is taking the loss too hard, perhaps because so many of us realize that the 3-goal shitstravaganza that put the Sharks over the top is one that will not be repeated. We all know how James Howard reacts to that kind of performance, and it's not by going soft in the next meeting. Plus, for the majority of the game, the Wings looked pretty good out there. We competed, we skated, we played fairly responsibly, and the Mule even started to look like the Mule again. With those factors on our side, optimism should be the least of what we're feeling.

Game On, Boyfriend!*

*Advisory: The author of this blog post makes no guarantees, either stated or implied, that this post will be free of shameless and obsessive references to the television series entitled The West Wing in general, and the episode "Game On" in particular. Reader discretion is advised.

This is it, mes amis. The playoffs are here, like the sweet scent of springtime after a long, hard winter of enclosed spaces filled with dirty sweat socks and the sick stink of fan fears. The Red Wings managed to hibernate their way into the mix in the Western Conference in spite of October through, um....well, about the Olympic break. And the Wings haven't just made the playoffs, they've made the 5 spot and earned themselves the honor of facing li'l Gary's second son in the first round.

Game 1 vs. Phoenix begins tonight at 10 PM (7 Pacific). If the playoff Red Wings show up, the Red Wings we know and love, all will be well. Remember those Wings? I do, because yesterday, the NHL Network replayed the Cup winning game of the 2007-2008 season and I saw the Red Wings play harder in the first two minutes of that game than I've seen them play in a long, long time. That's the team I want to see tonight and every night until Number 12 hits the air above the head of a certain Perfect Human a few short weeks from now.

I believe we can do it. More than that, I believe we have to do it, and I believe that the men wearing the wheel believe that, too. This is the 19th consecutive visit to the playoffs, and I've heard whispers somewhere along the line that 19 might be a number with some kind of significance in the world of the Red Wings. A number no one wants to disgrace. This is also the chance to correct a little mistake that happened just short of 10 months ago, a mistake that has haunted more than one Wings fan and fed a seething, simmering, bitter, acidic pool of rage just waiting to erupt like Ol' fucking Faithful and spew across the unwary. And I'm not just saying that because I really love being able to use the word "spew" in a post. I'm saying it because it's true. We have a mistake to correct, some excruciating mental images to erase, and some sloppy, dirty, smelly prints to wipe off of the Cup that rightfully belongs to us. The first step to making that happen will be taken tonight.

I'm counting on a very special group of men to make certain that the right thing happens tonight, and every night right up to the sweet, sweet end. I'm counting on the fact that there is no organization in professional sports with the kind of skill, heart, experience, and commitment that exists in the locker room at the Joe Louis Arena. I'm counting on the fact that each and every man who suits up in front of those lockers tonight knows that they serve at the pleasure of the Detroit Red Wings and that it's an honor and a privilege they'll want to remember to the end of their days. Each man in that room was asked to serve, to commit to giving their all to the organization, the city, the fans. The dynasty.

Break's over, Red Wings.

Game on.