Ticker Tape Parade in Detroit Postponed
I’m supposed to be watching “Pi” right now, but instead I’m bombarded by local news reports about Hillary Clinton’s “foot soldiers” being told to “stand down.” Quite the amusing choice of language for a fervent anti-war candidate.
Speaking of wars, how about this guy?
You might be asking yourself, how do I say that name? Or more importantly, who is he? I am the furthest thing from a hockey fan. I get dizzy just trying to watch that puck as it flies around like stray bullets in an LAPD shootout. Most casual NHL viewers/channel-flippers shamelessly admit they will stop on a hockey game to see a good brawl.
It was tonight, however, that I turned on what was expected to be the final game in the Stanley Cup series between the Pittsburgh Penguins and Detroit Red Wings in overtime. Figuring I’d see a goal any second, I left it on while I soaked my aching foot in a bucket of epsom salts (if you kick ass like I do, your foot hurts).
Sidney Crosby, a marquee player in the NHL had already played nearly 30 minutes, a long time if you’re skating and diving and dodging something heavy and fast-moving enough to seriously fuck you up while big dudes plot their next chance to decimate you. I saw nothing from him and immediately I felt what most non-hockey viewers feel. “This is a lame hockey stalemate,” I thought. But the score was tied at 3, so something big was going to happen. I could feel it.
A second overtime was necessary as the Red Wings just couldn’t get the puck by Fluery, the tireless Penguins goalie who defended nearly 60 shots throughout the course of the night. Some of his saves were simply amazing, and you’d be an idiot not to YouTube the overtime periods today if you didn’t watch the game already.
What this post is about though, is the amazing finish centering around Petr Sykora. During the second overtime period, he lipped to a teammate “I’m going to score.” The television commentators pointed it out. I waited, and waited, and waited. By the time a third overtime period arrived, my Sam Adams was perspiring, Jay Leno’s show was pushed back to 1:30 am, and I was wondering if I’d ever see “Pi.” Then it happened.
On a breakaway jaunt down the ice, Sykora took a beautifully placed pass and nearly instantaneously fired a beautiful wrist shot past Red Wings goalie Chris Osgood for the win. The Penguins had staved off defeat for at least 48 more hours, and Sykora had done something I’d never imagined possible in a chaotic sport like hockey. He called his shot. Here’s to you, Pete.
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