I fully believe the Wings will win the Stanley Cup this year. The Penguins have managed to stay alive for now, but it won’t last.

That being said, there is still the pain. The pain will never go away. I literally had nightmares last night of Dats hitting the post, Kronner’s unlucky bounce, MAF making an unbelievable toe save, Maltby unable to get a stick on the puck, Sammy shooting wide, Jiri’s stick sliding up the stick of a Penguin, and that stupid goal with 34.7 seconds left. 34.7. I’ll never forget that number, and I guarantee it’s burned in the minds of every single Red Wing. 34.7 seconds from glory in front of their home crowd.

I kept thinking (as I was desperately trying to fall asleep last night) of all the things that could have been. If only this had happened, or that. If only that 2-on-1 had worked. If only we had tried for the empty net, rather than the safe clear. If only. Oh yes, the pain is very real. And you cannot understand it unless you are a Wings fan.

The Wings are hungry. They want it. Watch Helm. Watch Kronner, Hudler, Drake. They want it. They can taste it. They practically had the champagne in their mouths last night. No, they’re not just going to let that go. They’re going to come with a fury tomorrow night. That fact gives me some comfort. But not enough to make me forget. To make me stop reliving. Believe me, I’ve tried. I tried to think about anything else last night, just trying to get to sleep to escape the pain. Little did I know it was waiting for me in my dreams as well. 34.7 seconds.

There is no rhyme or reason to explain what happened last night. In time, the shock will wear off. Lidstrom will lift Lord Stanley’s Cup over his head, and for a time, we’ll forget. But in the middle of the summer, when we’re all reliving the playoffs and Finals because we have yet to discover how to live without hockey, we’ll remember. 34.7 seconds. And the pain will return.