So what's up with my home team? What's up with my Capitals?
It's like this: On a sunny day you think it'll never rain again. The sky is the definition of blue from horizon to horizon. The sun is pulsing with warmth and light, lavishing its love on the lush green earth. But then the very next day you wake up and the sun is gone. The sky is flat and gray, the rain is hard and drenching, and sogginess permeates every molecule of the material world.
That's the way it is with those guys. Some games are ugly. But I don't want to think about them anymore.
I'm thinking about this instead: They're moving their legs. The ice is tilting and they're skating downhill, they're playing THEIR game, they feel the power.
Their hard work is being rewarded. The hits, the grit, the battles, the board-smashing, the net-crashing, the teeth-bashing mingle with the sublime.
This most-creative-of-teams merges into the flowing creative force of the universe. Now they're rolling!
They're seeing the puck well. They're seizing every chance. They're at the right place at the right time. They are CREATING SPACE.
And it doesn't matter HOW many guys the other team has on the ice!
There's a blind drop pass between the legs, or a nifty one threaded through a pair of defenders, or a chippy one from behind the net, or the long one traveling two-thirds the length of the ice, puck arriving, adhering to the stick of our brave captain on a breakaway, deking, beating the goaltender, going top-shelf…
Visualize, visualize, visualize!
It's all a fan can do.
