Wednesday, May 12, 2010

I'm not ready for a LIVE handshake line...

"I worry, I wonder all the time, 'Why worry?' It's killing me, forget about it..." -All-American Rejects

You know how in A Christmas Story, Ralphie's dad "works in profanity the way other artists might work in oils and clay... it's his true medium"? Well, for me, my true medium is worry. (Which doesn't work as nicely, but just go with it) I worry about everything. In a moment of sheer brilliance, Soph once told me, "I'd tell you not to worry but that's like telling water not to be wet." Truer words were never spoken.

So while I am shy and quiet, I'm not exactly a calm person. And it only gets worse when hockey's involved because then it's a nice mix of nerves + excitement. Pops takes quite a beating sitting next to me on the couch during games. And when Moo made the mistake of calling during game five, my half of the conversation went like this:

Me (indistinct yelling, SHRIEK): "Oh, they actually scored that time! In case you were wondering."

With all that said, I'm probably the person who should least be in possession of these right now:

YUP. Pops and I are going to game six. We're going to be sitting IN THE WACHOVIA CENTER tonight at 8:00, among the orange-clad army trying to will the Flyers to victory. I'm practically breathing into a paper bag just thinking about it. Don't get me wrong, I love love LOVE going to playoff games. The atmosphere is unreal. There is absolutely nothing like a live playoff game. But with all that intensity comes more intense worrying. I mean, if the Flyers blow a game in November, it's not the end of the world, there's like sixty games to go. But if they screw up tonight, they're teeing off next week. I've never been to a potential elimination game, so I think that's why I'm especially amped up. I've been to two awesome playoff games in my life, but they were both game threes; it's different when it's do-or-die. Meanwhile, we determined that Pops hasn't been to a playoff game since 1994, so he's pretty psyched to make his triumphant return, sixteen years later.

8:00. Crank up "Hell's Bells," get out your rally towels, and pray that the Flyers are onto something epic. (And that I don't give myself a heart attack.) Let's go Fly-ers!!!

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