(my final use of that playoffs-as-mountain-climb device)
This is the battle that decides it all: who gets to stay on top of the mountain, and who gets thrown off the peak. One game to seal one team’s destiny, or in the case of the other, one game to start the building of one. If Game 7′s in general are the height of the hockey experience, Stanley Cup Final Game 7′s have to be up there in the upper reaches of the atmosphere.
That’s fitting, because this is going to be a breathless night for the fans. Win or lose, surviving this night without losing a good decade off the end of our lives from the stress is going to be tough.
It’s the awesome finality of Game 7 that has me feeling nauseated already this morning. There’s no opportunity to respond to a loss with a dominating performance. There’s very little room for making up for your mistakes. It can go either way. It has to be one of the few times a stat showing such a definitive home team advantage–SCF Finals Game 7′s are 12-2 historically for the home team–provides so little comfort.
Stats mean nothing. What matters is what the two teams do on the ice, tonight. This game is going to be epic. Both teams know what’s at stake, and both teams will be at their best. It really will be a battle.
It’s going to be awesome to watch. It’s going to be terrible to watch. I can’t wait for the puck drop, and I dread it at the same time. The paradox of a fan faced with a Game 7: complete confidence in his or her team, but in the same space, nervousness and fear.
Despite the nervousness and fear, I know this:
The Red Wings can do it. They will do it.
And we’ll look back at tonight as a great, historic moment, as we forget the stress-induced agony of watching.
Tonight the Cup returns to Detroit, to the ice of Joe Louis Arena. And Nick Lidstrom will hoist it again.
After the Wings throw the Penguins down the mountainside.