Mom's Spaghetti

Im sitting here, wearing my Tom Brady jersey, watching Gary Tanguay on sports tonight (yeeahh!). The frustration is mounting. The anger is building as I listen to every petty and infuriating excuse that comes out of his mouth. "Some people said 7-9, others 8-8, no one expected 14-2...we have a great future...a young defense that just gained valuable experience..blah..blah." What a giant load of crap. Crap! I don't want to hear that. I want to hear anger and bitterness. I want to hear complete and utter disdain for every player involved in this debacle. Quit glossing it over. As I think about last night's game, I cant help but make comparisons to our latest hockey tournament. I was going to recap our games on Saturday but I have to get this off my chest.

"You only get one shot"?

Every Tournament seems to get a lot of thought. The players and their attributes are debated to no end. How do they fit? Can our goalie carry us? Can we conjure up enough offense? Can the defense make the key stops? Its like a giant puzzle. But the key is balance. Some years we feel that we have the right "mix". Other year's it's sort of a "this is what we got" kind of thing. Well, that is exactly what happened this year. A whim. A last ditch effort to be the last team standing for the first time. The calls went out at 5pm on the Friday before, could this be our time? Could the monkey finally be off the respected back's of the Alliance? Could we actually pull one out?

The Puzzle is the Key.

So what was the team that Jared pulled out of his..hat?

(G) Tony A

(LN1-RW) Scott F (LN1-C) Mike D (LN1-LW) Jared M

(LN2-RW) Paul (LN2-C) Brett (LN2-LW) Tommy

(D) Borges (D) Nick

Not bad. Not bad at all. But how would it compute with results?

The Same Old Song and Dance

How else would you expect it? Domination. We devestated teams. No team had a chance to score with regularity. With scores that ranged from 3-1 to 5-0; It was our equivalent to 45-3. We were on top of the world. We actually had conversations that started with the phrase "We can do this!". But none topped my personal favorite when we called ourselves the literal "favorite". In fact, confidence was so high that some decided to "throw" the fourth and final game because we already had our play-off spot. I mean, why would you spend a game building chemistry and refining skills when you can take it easy? In reality, we had created our "equivalent" bye. So it leaves me asking: How could a well rested team that was considered the consensus favorite blow it? It just sounds too familiar.

Sigh

Nothing like awakening a sleeping giant before "battle", eh? Well, unlike Tom Brady, the goalie for the other team actually plays better when the "bear is poked". It seems as if a battle for a specific side of the rink was all it took. Borges attempted to gloss over the "argument" with some playful banter (there is another word for that, it ryhmes with Ray) but it was to no avail. The disgruntled goalie's nostrils stayed flared and it was game on.

The game was fantastic. Phenomenal. Highly competitive. Highly entertaining. The other team couldn't sustain pressure. The problem was that despite immense pressure on our part, we couldn't get the ball to hit twine. We hit posts, we hit the boards, we hit our own teammates, our shots were blocked, but most of all we hit their goalie. He was everywhere. It was like trying to sneak a cookie past the fat kid at lunch. It was almost impossible. We were down 1-0 with very little time on the clock and we tied the game! Could we be seeing the memorable comeback? The game that would push us into our first championship. The game that would end our reign as the equivalent San Jose Sharks. But alas, another excuse. It was a stupid shot from the point. The shot hit the boards to the right of the net, bounces out to the opposite, or left side of the net, conveniently hitting the stick of a streaking winger, for the other team, who manages to back hand the ball into the net due to a poorly position goalie. Did you get that? This was in overtime, mind you. Heartbreak isn't the word. Torture wouldn't begin to describe it. I would kill for the feeling of disappointment instead. Another Year. Another Year.

Failure.

I for one, am done. A Team vs. B Team wont due. Im sick of being the San Jose Sharks or dare I say the 2010 Patriots. Dominating the Regular Season has been done...to death. Its time to dominate when it matters. Its time to put it all on the line. It's time to walk away from one of these things without a Gary Tanguay like excuse. Woulda Coulda Shoulda. No more! No more! It's time to get the job done!

But maybe...just maybe...Im the last one to realize the inevitable. We always find a way to lose.