A Slow Parade

Sharks 4, Red Wings 3 (OT); Western Semifinals, 0-3

	A.A. Bondy - A Slow Parade .mp3
	Found at bee mp3 search engine

I suppose I could just link to this post from exactly one year ago. It's essentially the exact same thing.

One of the biggest cliches in this world is "all good things must come to an end." And as is the case with almost all cliches, it's a cliche because it's true. There is nothing in our lives that has an infinite lifespan. When we encounter something good, or even decent, something we deem to be worthwhile, even if we resist it at first, we eventually come to rely upon it, and we subconsciously do whatever we can to preserve it. We try with all our might to keep the decency in our lives, clinging to whatever joy we find in an otherwise cold world.

But it's irrelevant. The passage of time inevitably brings with it the winds of change. Regardless of what we do, sooner or later, the things we cherish slip through our hands, in some way or another. The most tragic among us witness the greatness fading away, while the blissfully ignorant remain blind to it until they realize it's gone. Either way, the end result is the same: we all feel the same emptiness when we lose something we held dear. We all feel the same pain in our hearts that accompanies the void that was once filled. In the end, all we have left are the memories we forged, the images we burn into our minds, and the sounds of a lost paradise that we use to fill the silence that dominates the present after what we loved has faded into the clouds of history.

For Red Wings fans, the past 20 years have instilled in us a righteous sense of superiority. We acquired the feeling that not a team in hockey could match the skill of the Red Wings, and if the Wings played "their" game, their precise execution would win the day. We never acknowledged the possibility that another team was actually "better" than us. In 2006, Edmonton wasn't "better", they simply employed the trap to suffocate the Wings' offense, a crutch used by a clearly inferior team. In 2007, Anaheim wasn't better, they had to resort to goonery and thug tactics to muscle their way past the Wings in the West Finals. In 2009, the Penguins weren't better, they were simply able to drag their bodies across the finish line just ahead of ours, because we had to endure injuries upon injuries and terrible officiating and the brutality of the Western Conference playoffs. Detroit fans have this romantic notion that if the Wings were in the Eastern Conference, we would've won every Stanley Cup since 1996.

I'm (mostly) exaggerating, of course, but the base point remains the same. By and large, we've never accepted the possibility of a team being better at what we do than us. But now, as we stare own the barrel of another elimination from San Jose, as we swallow the bitter pill of a seventh loss in the last eight playoff games against the Sharks, the reality is as obvious as it is painful: they are truly and genuinely better than the Red Wings. They're not deploying some gimmicky defense, nor are they taking advantage of pussy ass referees and pulverizing the Red Wings after every whistle. No, they're doing what the Red Wings have done for the majority of the last 20 years. They're dominating in the faceoff circle. They're winning the battles in the corners. They're backchecking and forechecking with relentless vigor, and for the most part they are destroying us in the special teams department as the Red Wings' penalty kill swirls the drain for the third year in a row under the incompetent eye of Brad McCrimmon - while former Red Wings assistant Todd McLellan dominates the Wings in the areas he himself built to elite status while in Detroit. Our own weapons, used against us. Beaten at our own game.

The reality we all want to ignore but can't deny now lies ahead of us, plain as day and right out in the open. The days of overbearing dominance by the Red Wings in the West is over. The mystique is no longer there. These same Sharks wilted away like spineless cowards in the face of the Winged Wheel four years ago when Robert Lang scored in the final minute to tie Game 4, a game the Red Wings would win in overtime to tie the series. The Wings dominated the next two games to eliminate the Sharks. For Michigan fans, this is a familiar experience. For 40 years, Michigan occupied the minds of the other Big Ten programs, a phenomenon we sometimes refer to as "Winged Helmet Paranoia." In that same vein, "Winged Wheel Paranoia" has enjoyed a reign of nearly two decades. And it's gone now. Teams don't fear the Red Wings anymore. The Sharks and Penguins have shattered the aura of invincibility that surrounded Joe Louis Arena since the early 90s. The mind games are gone, just as the last three years (some would certainly argue more than that) saw the mystique fade from Michigan football. Teams no longer fear coming into the Big House; just the opposite, in fact. They see it as an opportunity to exact vengeance for years of tyranny under the oppressive thumb of the Wolverines; a chance to snatch a pound of flesh 40 years in the making.

But the thing is, as Brady Hoke and Greg Mattison have the grand opportunity to restore the mystique, as they plunder the state of Michigan and lay waste to Mark Dantonio's grand vision of "turning the state green", as they dare to encrouch on the evil empire's territory to the south of us, there exists much smaller chances for the Red Wings to fight off the wave of insurgency against their power. College football provides the luxury of a clean slate every few years as the entire roster turns over and the chance for younger, better players to step in presents itself. We're already seeing the beginning of it for Michigan football, as we can rest assured that greatness lies ahead with James Ross, and Royce Jenkins-Stone, and Joe Bolden, and Kaleb Ringer, and other stars in the making whose best days lie ahead. This isn't the case in pro sports. The usurpation of Detroit's throne in the West by teams like Chicago, and San Jose, and Vancouver - these are teams with nuclei much younger than ours. The future doesn't hold promise for the Red Wings as much as it holds uncertainty. Lidstrom and Rafalski are on their last legs; behind them resides unproven talent that will need to be proven lest an enormous hole in our already-shoddy defense be torn open. The Wings had great hope for Jonathan Ericsson, and instead we've been treated to three years of incompetence and utterly dreadful play. Up front, Datsyuk and Zetterberg and Franzen are on the wrong side of 30. Bertuzzi and Holmstrom are almost out of gas. The youth that exists in the system - players like Tatar and Nyquist and Pulkkinen and Kindl and Smith and Mursak - is completely and utterly unproven at the NHL level, and as the transition from old to young takes place over the next several years, we'll have to rely on these prospects to live up to their full potential, all while competing against teams that will have their young stars entering their prime.

A future that contains the unknown is a future to be feared. And for those of us who invest far too much emotion in trivial things like sports, the angst of the unknown is surpassed only by the agony of the present, as we watch the one thing we could always rely on be laid to waste. For me, the socially inept, self-loathing, clinically depressed jerk, what little energy I have left as I struggle to find a reason to get out of bed each day is zapped as the Red Wings fade away into the sunset. I get to watch them break apart and slip away, just as all good things in my life have already done so. My shattered existence just fractures more, the spider web of cracked glass growing each day, with things like hope and optimism being conspicuously absent, and worse, the concept of them becoming more and more foreign.

Three things in life are certain. Death, taxes, and the expiration of all things pleasant and comforting. Some of those things last longer than others. Some can last 20 years. Some can last 15 months. But they all end. Whether it's via a three minute phone conversation or an unexpected snap shot from the right circle, time always catches up.

And time brings everything to an often-unwanted conclusion.

There Are Things That Drift Away

Sharks 4, Red Wings 3 (OT); Western Semifinals, 0-3

	Iron & Wine - Passing Afternoon
	Found at skreemr.com

It's never easy to say goodbye to someone, or something, that you love. It's even harder when you say goodbye to those that you adore so much, but realize they're not the same as they once were. What once was vibrant is now haggard. What once was fiery is now extinguished. What once shined under the spotlights now sweats.

Maybe it's just me. Maybe in my head, I've elevated the 2007-2008 Stanley Cup Champion Detroit Red Wings to a level of reverence that they never truly reached. Maybe the perfection I have envisioned in my mind didn't exist. Either way, it certainly exceeded what's transpired since that warm summer night in Pittsburgh 23 months ago. In my mind's eye, I see the definition of "Red Wings hockey": precision, speed, execution, grace, intelligence. You could throw a dart at every synonym for those words, and you'd hit one that accurately described the Red Wings on their quest to a championship two springs ago.

Now? I'm not sure if any of them apply anymore. What began to crack last spring has broken completely now. Whether it's a result of players getting older, or someone behind the bench being really, really bad at what they do, or some combination of both, it doesn't matter; the Red Wings no longer possess many of the qualities that we as fans have grown accustomed to seeing night in and night out. Losing battles in the corners, losing possession of the puck, passes failing to connect through the neutral zone, defensemen being turnstiled and burned by being out of position. None of these were present two years ago. They began to pop up last season, culminating in one of the most painful nights in the lives of Red Wings fans. Even The Perfect Human, one Nicklas Lidstrom, has become mortal.

This goes beyond officiating. The refs were bad, but they're hardly to blame. Tonight's scapegoats, as if it really matters, could be a few select players, I suppose. Jason Williams, in the lineup for some unknown reason, does what he does and fires a wild shot that, of course, ricochets out the other side and produces the 2-on-1 that ends the game, because, just like last year in Pittsburgh in Game 4, Brian Rafalski is completely and utterly worthless in this situation. He does nothing to stop the pass, and bang, it's game over. And it's game over because of two completely unacceptable goals given up by our rookie goaltender, Jimmy Howard. The first goal was horrible enough as it is, Howard inexplicably lifting his pad off the ice and exposing his five hole when that was the only shot available; but to give it up with 1.8 seconds left in the period and going to intermission up 2-1 instead of 2-0 is garbage. Second goal wasn't his fault, it was on the five players playing in front of him, losing another faceoff battle and doing nothing but watching as Joe Thornton skates around the net and out front with the puck. Hard to blame the goalie when the players in front of them are picking their noses. But the third goal? He deserves to be cussed out for that one. I'm not kidding. Somebody in that locker room, a player, a coach, whoever, should read Howard the riot act for that. The Wings fell asleep after going up 3-1, and predictably paid for it, but Howard woke up them with his two saves on Martin Hanzal in Game 5 in Phoenix. And to give it up on a goal like that, in a one goal game in the third period in a game you have to have, when your team needs a wakeup call - well, how can you defend somebody after that? I understand Chris Osgood is finished as a #1 goaltender, and this was the mindset of the Red Wings headed into the postseason - it's Jimmy's show, sink or swim. Meanwhile, the Red Wings' defense is aging, there are heavyweights in the Western Conference significantly younger than this Detroit team, and sacrificing a postseason for the sake of getting your new goaltender experience, well...it is what it is, I guess.

And what it is is over. This isn't like 2007 when the Red Wings' #2 and #3 defensemen didn't play a second of the West Finals against Anaheim. This isn't like last year where the Wings were a walking MASH unit by the time That Fateful Night in June rolled around. No, this is the case of a championship window as we know it getting closed down just a bit further, close to completely shut. Lidstrom will be around for maybe one more year. After that, then what? You don't just plug in the gap left by one of the greatest players of all time. Rafalski has a couple years left, but he's old too and showed his defensive limitation once again tonight. Kronwall and Stuart are top four defensemen, but not top two. They aren't the type you send over the boards everytime the opposition's top line takes the ice. You don't tell them to quarterback your power play and penalty kill. So where does that leave us? Hoping that the light goes on for Jonathan Ericsson, who was terrible this year? Hoping that Jakub Kindl pans out like the first round pick he was? Hoping that Brendan Smith develops quickly and is a star? That's entirely too much hope in a conference where Kane, Toews, Sharp, Bolland, Versteeg and Byfuglien are all under 28 in Chicago. Where Los Angeles appears to be rising to prominence with Kopitar (21), Stoll (27), Brown (24), Frolov (27), Simmonds (20), Doughty (19!), Johnson (22) and a star goaltender in the minors (Bernier, 20). Where Heatley, Thornton, Marleau, Clowe, Pavelski, and Setoguchi are all under 30 for the Sharks. Where nine of Vancouver's top 11 scorers this year are under 30, and their goalie, one of the best in the world, just turned 31 and is in his prime.

It's a frightening prospect, as all these teams in the West have young stars up and coming, and the Red Wings have an aging defense and a goaltender who has struggled in his first postseason. It's frightening when the team renowned for its ability to put the skate to the throat of its opponent blows a 3-1 lead in the third period and loses in overtime at home in a game they had to win to save their season. It's frightening that they are propelling the "playoff chokers" into the Western Finals.

I believe (and yes, I'm a homer) that the Red Wings were the best team in 2007, and would've beaten the Ducks (and then Ottawa) if Schneider and Kronwall had been healthy. I believe if they had possessed anything resembling health last year, if Datsyuk, Hossa, Zetterberg, Cleary and Lidstrom weren't nursing injuries that should've had them on the sidelines, they would've beaten Pittsburgh. I believe this team deserved better than the one championship they got.

But that's life. It's about disappointment, and how you deal with it. It's about setbacks, and how you cope with them.

It's about saying farewell too soon to those you love with all your heart.

So Far Away

Michigan State 64, Michigan 48; 14-16 (7-11)

	Dire Straits - So Far Away
	Found at skreemr.com

Generally, I err on the side of restraint when it comes to criticizing coaches. Mainly because there is a reason they're on the sidelines coaching and I'm on the sofa watching at home - despite my issues with them at times, they still know a lot more than I do when it comes to coaching a team, no matter the sport.

In this, however...what else is there to say other than John Beilein has had three years, and while reaching the Tournament in year two was of course excellent, the epic disappointment of this year washed away almost all goodwill last year bought? And I don't want to hear about any "parallels" to the football program, either. One, because Rodriguez has had two years compared to Beilein's three (and I'll be having similar sentiments about Rodriguez if he flames out in year three as well), and two, it's actually much easier running a basketball program than it is football. You could say that's just an opinion; I say it's just numbers. 13 scholarships in basketball compared to 85 in football - the variance is much lower, and recruiting is so much bigger in terms of impact. You can take a kid right out of high school, stick him on a basketball court, and he can be a star - see Calipari with Derrick Rose, Tyreke Evans, John Wall. The same does not hold true for football; it's a much, much more complex game. Physical and mental maturity are required, and even if you're the biggest of the big dogs in football recruiting, you are not guaranteed to step onto a college football field and be big shit from day one - see Terrelle Pryor and Jimmy Clausen.

I can envision a scenario where Michigan's defense is improved on the football field in 2010 even with Brandon Graham and Donovan Warren gone. With Greg Robinson taking over the linebackers and safeties, it's not outside the realm of possibility those positions stabilize to an extent, which would allow Michigan to field at least a serviceable defense. In basketball, on the other hand...can you create a scenario where Michigan's basketball team is improved in 2010-2011 without DeShawn Sims and (possibly) Manny Harris? I guess it's possible Blake McLimans and Jordan Morgan are 100% and able to step in and finally provide some size, but where's the scoring going to come from if Manny is gone? Even if Beilein reels in super-recruit Trey Zeigler (and honestly, do you think that's on the sunny side of happening now?), would he be able to step in and star from day one? Possible, but not probable.

It boils down to this: Beilein has failed at two of the fundamental cornerstones of the game of basketball: size and shooting. One of these is not entirely on him. He's had abysmal luck when it comes to the big men - Izzo took away Draymond Green, the NCAA took away Robin Benzing, Ekpe Udoh bolted, Ben Cronin's career is probably over before it began, and Jordan Morgan is injured too. That's five separate players who could've been pounding the glass and working the paint next to DeShawn Sims instead of 6'5, 210-pound Zack Novak, who, bless his heart, is not someone who should be asked to play power forward. Combine those losses with recruiting close-but-no-cigars in 6'8 and top 50 forward Nate Lubick (Georgetown) and 6'10 and top 50ish forward Mason Plumlee (Duke), and you get what we currently have: a woefully undersized Michigan team that gets shredded on the boards and down low with regularity, especially in the Big Ten.

As for the shooting, well, the numbers are right there to look at. One of Beilein's trademarks is 3-point shooting. Michigan's 3-point shooting over the past two seasons:

• Manny Harris, 08-09: 32.7%; 09-10: 30.1%
• DeShawn Sims, 08-09: 31.7%; 09-10: 29.0%
• Zack Novak, 08-09: 34.4%; 09-10: 31.6%
• Stu Douglass, 08-09: 33.5%; 09-10: 31.3%
• Laval Lucas-Perry, 08-09: 34.4%; 09-10: 30.2%
• Anthony Wright, 08-09: 33.3%; 09-10: 23.5%

All six players have shot worse from three this year than they did last year. And four of them (Sims, Novak, Douglass, and LLP) have attempted more threes this year than last (and the only reason Wright didn't is because he finally got benched for being an offensive black hole).

It's as simple as that: The players Beilein brought in to shoot can't shoot. And when your offense relies on jump shooting...you get a 14-16 record, and the looming possibility of your two best players (whom you inherited and did not recruit yourself) being gone next year. Douglass and Novak are glue players. They're the type that have a spot coming off the bench at major D-1 programs. They're the type a team like Butler or Western Kentucky has and captures the nation's attention with for a couple hours in March. But because of some bad luck, Michigan has had to rely on them far more than they're apparently capable of. Just as Novak is not a power forward, Douglass is not a point guard, let alone a starting one.

So where do we go from here? Just cross our fingers and hope Beilein lands Zeigler, and lands one of Amir Williams or Marshall Plumlee? I'm pleased with some of the pieces he's brought in - I like Vogrich, I think Morris has progressed pretty nicely as the season wound down, I really like Hardaway and Smortycz coming in next year, and Carlton Brundidge in 2011 is a great combo guard, and Michigan liked him better than MSU-bound Brandan Kearney. But is this really a situation conducive to success? Basketball recruiting is an entirely different beast from football recruiting. The list of "three-star sleepers" that have been developed into monsters in football is pretty extensive, because there are so many more aspects to football than basketball, so many different skills, etc. But in basketball, for the most part, things are chalk city when it comes to the rankings. Obviously there are always exceptions, but Michigan's two best players - Harris and Sims - were both high four-star recruits bordering on the edge of five-star status, while players like Douglass and Novak and Jordan Morgan and Blake McLimans were middling three-star recruits whose offer sheets were composed almost exclusively of Michigan and a bunch of mid-majors. Does this condemn them to a career of mediocrity? Of course not. But Douglass and Novak certainly looked overmatched in the Big Ten this year. Was it because Beilein was trying to force them into positions they weren't comfortable in, or because they simply aren't the type of talents that can excel against Big Ten powers? You decide.

Beilein, as a person, should be exactly what every Michigan fan (and every fan everywhere, really) wants as their coach. He's a great man who refuses to bend his morals even a little bit. He refuses to delve into the filthy world of AAU coaches getting handouts, family members getting jobs, and all the other gray areas that accompany the majority of basketball recruiting. This leaves a huge chunk of recruits each year off limits to Michigan - and considering UM's past, it has to be that way, anyway. So in that regard, Beilein has no peer. But as a gameday coach, a teacher, and from an Xs and Os standpoint - color me thoroughly underwhelmed. Dave Brandon officially starts his duties as Michigan athletic director today. It's highly unlikely (and would probably be too hasty) that he decides to suddenly fire Beilein. But if you can't draw conclusions about a coach after three years, you absolutely can after four, and I ask again - do you see any scenario where Michigan is substantially improved next season?

Heartbreak.

Has it sunk in for you yet?

It's getting there for me. Friday night faded away for me with a feeling of numb shock still firmly in place. I knew what had happened, but the finality of it didn't process. When I woke up yesterday, it was still there. It's pretty much gone now. It didn't just drop on me like an anvil all of a sudden, it just gradually seeped in until I finally acknowledged it: there are no more games. There is no game tomorrow. No game the next day. No parade. No championship t-shirts or hats. No celebration with awkward, foreign players speaking broken english and still conveying thanks to the fans.

No Stanley Cup.

We took it for granted, really. It's the most precious prize in sports, and we took it for granted. We assumed because it was here last year, it would never leave. Once we saw the Red Wings shake off their shaky regular season defense, we just assumed that at the end, Nicklas Lidstrom would be holding Stanley over his head again. Even I, the ultimate pessimist, the eternal cynic and naysayer, never envisioned such tragedy. There have been terrible moments involving the Red Wings; games and moments that we all remember that bring us sadness. But overall, they've always been the constant for us. They've always risen above everything. When all our other teams floundered at some point, the Red Wings were there for us, a rock for which we could all lean on and be assured that it would remain steady. Through all this, through four Stanley Cups since 1997, we forgot that while winning it is the greatest feeling there is...we forgot what losing it felt like.

Now we all know. Now we all remember. Stanley is gone. And it's such bitter heartbreak, sometimes I wonder how we deal with it. I have not watched video of the end and the proceedings afterward yet. Nor will I. As I went through some photo galleries from the Detroit News and Yahoo, the pain was almost too much for me to bear. Seeing the looks on the faces of the players and fans...complete and utter devastation. I'm spoiled as a Detroit fan. In my life, I've seen (keyword there) four Stanley Cups, an NBA title, a National Championship in football, and an improbable American League pennant. I was far too young to have any memories of Michigan's national title in basketball in 1989 and the Pistons' first two titles in 1989 and 1990. Nevertheless, I recognize how lucky I've been. And there will be more. The Red Wings will return to the Finals and win another Stanley Cup, possibly as soon as next year. And yet, as much as I remember the positives, the negatives are right there too. I remember the 1995 Finals. Well, the ending, anyway. I have precisely zero memories of any part of any of the games, or even any feeling or emotion. I was six years old. I just remember seeing the Red Wings standing there, in their red jerseys, dejected and defeated as the Devils went wild with the Stanley Cup. I remember Game 5 against Colorado in 2002, when Forsberg flipped the puck over Hasek's shoulder in overtime and peeled away from the net, his arms raising in celebration. I remember almost running from the room, unable to watch anymore. That Wings team was a team of destiny, and I remember thinking to myself then, "That's how this is going to end, isn't it?" Of course, it wasn't. But the scars remain. I remember the 2006 Michigan/Ohio State game. The buildup for basically two months. The ESPN promos. Bo's death. And the game itself, the pain it caused. That was the last time I actually cried. Not just because of the loss, but because of that entire 48 hour period, where we went from being so confident and sure of ourselves to not being sure of anything because our entire world as Michigan fans had collapsed around us. I remember screaming at the top of my lungs when Rasheed left Horry alone after the inbounds pass. I remember once again being unable to watch as Game 7 wound down in San Antonio, because I wasn't willing to see the heartbreak on the faces of those Pistons. I had never loved a team like I loved those Pistons. They went down just like these Red Wings down - fighting to the bitter end, but just not having enough left in the tank to remain champions. Heavy lies the crown.

Shortly after I left the dejected, deadpanned voice mail on my friend's phone minutes after the game ended the other night, he called back. I didn't feel it vibrate, so it went to voice mail, where he left me a similarly devastated message. He told me that he wished we would never have a "9/23" to share together. "9/23" being the date of the Michigan State/Notre Dame football game in 2006, one that hollowed out the hearts of a lot of Spartans. A lot of good, decent people. I understand the pain he felt that night now. I feel a tremendous weight of guilt. After Game 6 ended, I was absolutely convinced the Red Wings would win Game 7. This friend of mine was not. He feared the worst. And I spent the next three days convincing him that he was wrong, and the Wings wouldn't let this slip away. And then, well...that happened. And I couldn't help but feel responsible. To pump someone up with so much hope, so much bravado, only to see the rug get yanked out from under.

A bunch of the injuries these Red Wings were battling through came to light yesterday. When you take stock of them, you can't help but wonder if there were higher powers at work, determined to prevent a repeat. I mean, look at last year. Franzen missed six games with a concussion. Holmstrom missed one game. I think Stuart missed one. And that was it. And this year you get Datsyuk, Lidstrom, Rafalski, Ericsson, Draper, Kopecky, and Lilja missing games. Cleary, Holmstrom, Hossa, and Zetterberg, nursing wounds that would've kept them out in the regular season. I can't ever recall a team being stricken so badly with the injury bug. I suppose we could take some sort of twisted solace from that, knowing that despite being so ravaged with wounds, they still got to Game 7 of the Finals, but whatever. There are no moral victories. Just an empty place where the Stanley Cup used to be.

Just a lot of heartbreak. And a lot of pain that won't go away for a long, long time.

Afterthoughts.

Part of being a sports fan is the inherent inevitability of disappointment. Every year in every sport, only one team and one group of fans is happy. For all the rest, there is just sadness. The vast majority of sports fans end the season disappointed. So there's were we, as Red Wings fans, are now. I mentioned this before, but we now have a chemical burn on our cheeks. Once the unbearable, mind-numbing pain fades away, we will be left with a grotesque, stomach-turning scar. The kind that stays with us forever, as a reminder. Shock has set in for many of us, myself most likely included. I've said it out loud, and I'll type it here: Pittsburgh won the last two games, and beat the Red Wings in Joe Louis Arena to take the Stanley Cup away from us.

It's bad. Believe me, I know. I will take this worse than essentially all of you, I promise. I still sit and think about games that happened years and years ago. This one probably tops the list of horror. I could go into detail, I suppose. Brad Stuart picked a terrible time to have his worst game as a Red Wing. Jiri Hudler was equally to blame on the second goal. Osgood wasn't great, he wasn't terrible. He let in two goals, and that should've been enough. And yet for the second straight game, the Wings came out listless and without passion. They didn't drive the net, they weren't strong with the puck. They once again waited for a multi-goal deficit before bringing the fury. Too little, too late. And now a summer of unbelievable discontent. Tough choices have to be made. Hossa, Hudler and Samuelsson are free agents. After seeing them vanish for most of the postseason, and the Finals in particular, is anybody really going to be devastated if they leave? It's clear to me that Hossa was injured. Not hurt, injured. But he came here to win, and didn't deliver. But none of them did. I wouldn't have blamed Pittsburgh fans for not watching when the Wings won Game 6 last year, because the instant the clock hit 0:00 tonight, I was gone. I left. And I discovered that I didn't even have the will to walk, which I almost always do after a brutal loss. I made it about three blocks, leaving a dull and listless voice mail on one of my best friend's phone on the way...and then I just turned back. The music on my MP3 player provided no comfort, it was just background noise to the deafening silence.

Oh, and congratulations to Pittsburgh. I despise sore losers and hypocrites, so I will give credit where credit is very much due. I hate Crosby and Malkin like poison, but they, and their teammates, deserved this. Their defense found a way to strangle the life out of the Red Wings. They did all the things the Wings didn't. They won the battles, they blocked shots, they took away passing lanes, they played smart. They played with the hunger the Red Wings showed last year, which just goes to show that the only thing harder than winning a championship is winning another. All season, the Red Wings floated, disinterested in regular season games. And that laziness ultimately doomed them, as they were completely unprepared for the dogged determination of Pittsburgh's forecheck. I didn't watch Pittsburgh's celebration, I will cringe and turn the channel whenever the image of Crosby holding the Cup comes on...but not because I feel they were undeserving. On the contrary. They deserved it much more than our Red Wings did...and that's why this hurts so much.

Meanwhile, life will go on. And the Wings will be back. Despite what the media rambled on about during the Western Finals, the Wings aren't a bunch of old geezers. Aside from maybe three guys (Osgood, Lidstrom, Rafalski), the core of this team is in its prime. Maybe with some luck, the stunning disappointment of tonight will serve as fuel. Hopefully a little humbling will re-ignite the fire we saw last year. And the fire we saw this year, from our opponents.