Just before the official Winter Classic announcement was made and it became a realization that the Washington Capitals would visit Heinz Field on New Years Day, my brother had the brilliant idea to book hotel rooms in the Steel City to increase our odds of actually attending the game and, you know, having a place to lay our heads. 7 months, countless hours scouring the internet and numerous e-mails pestering friends with hey, know anyone looking to get rid of tickets?, it finally came to be...
On Friday morning, we left downtown DC and were on our way through Central Pennsylvania for the mother of all weekends. Caps vs. Pens, Ovie vs. Sid, Boudreau vs. Bylsma. 24/7. Bad blood, the rivalry, etc. There's no way it wouldn't be glorious, is there?
So the weather stuck a little wrench in the spokes? Really, it made the whole experience that much more memorable. Nevermind the fact that a night game would make for a bigger spectacle and provide a primetime showcase for two of the NHL's best teams. It also meant a better viewing experience for fans in attendance and a more gradual (i.e. intense) build-up from Saturday morning until the puck dropped.
A few rain drops never killed anyone -- and thankfully, all ACLs remain intact for both teams -- so the weather was a mere footnote.
As for the overall experience, let's take it from the top...
At the end of the last episode of HBO's 24/7, a camera dollies down one of the concourse tunnels and the view opens up to Heinz Field and all its hockey-transformed greatness, creating both an incredible setting and a giddiness for anyone lucky enough to be attending the game. Chills ran down my spine as the day had nearly arrived -- less than 3 days after the final credits rolled, we'd be sitting in the stands for a tradition unlike any other (with apologies to The Masters).
Leaving Chinatown at about 10am on Friday, and after a quick stop in Bethesda to drop off the dog, we headed up 270 for what ended up being an unbelievably easy drive. Perhaps the highlight of the trip, which most on the road that day will tell you, was the astonishing number of Capitals fans spotted along the way. I knew that it was inevitable we'd see cars with Virginia, Maryland and DC tags, but the amount of Caps flags, jersey-wearing drivers and high-school-like painted rear windows was pretty awesome. Breezewood, the mother of all Pennsylvania rest stops, was littered with Backstrom, Semin and Ovechkin jerseys, a great and reassuring sign that those making the trek would have plenty of company at the big game.
Arriving in the Steel City just after 3pm, we drove through the Winter Classic banner-lined streets and arrived at the Wyndham Grand downtown, a quick walk across the river from the stadium and a hotel mobbed with fans of both teams. Crosby and Malkin jerseys hung in some windows, while Caps gear adorned others. We had to expect that the city would be buzzing for the weekend's festivities, but it still was an unbelievable site, as essentially everything going on had something to do with the NHL. It was, in short, a hockey fan's paradise.
On Friday morning, we left downtown DC and were on our way through Central Pennsylvania for the mother of all weekends. Caps vs. Pens, Ovie vs. Sid, Boudreau vs. Bylsma. 24/7. Bad blood, the rivalry, etc. There's no way it wouldn't be glorious, is there?
So the weather stuck a little wrench in the spokes? Really, it made the whole experience that much more memorable. Nevermind the fact that a night game would make for a bigger spectacle and provide a primetime showcase for two of the NHL's best teams. It also meant a better viewing experience for fans in attendance and a more gradual (i.e. intense) build-up from Saturday morning until the puck dropped.
A few rain drops never killed anyone -- and thankfully, all ACLs remain intact for both teams -- so the weather was a mere footnote.
As for the overall experience, let's take it from the top...
At the end of the last episode of HBO's 24/7, a camera dollies down one of the concourse tunnels and the view opens up to Heinz Field and all its hockey-transformed greatness, creating both an incredible setting and a giddiness for anyone lucky enough to be attending the game. Chills ran down my spine as the day had nearly arrived -- less than 3 days after the final credits rolled, we'd be sitting in the stands for a tradition unlike any other (with apologies to The Masters).
Leaving Chinatown at about 10am on Friday, and after a quick stop in Bethesda to drop off the dog, we headed up 270 for what ended up being an unbelievably easy drive. Perhaps the highlight of the trip, which most on the road that day will tell you, was the astonishing number of Capitals fans spotted along the way. I knew that it was inevitable we'd see cars with Virginia, Maryland and DC tags, but the amount of Caps flags, jersey-wearing drivers and high-school-like painted rear windows was pretty awesome. Breezewood, the mother of all Pennsylvania rest stops, was littered with Backstrom, Semin and Ovechkin jerseys, a great and reassuring sign that those making the trek would have plenty of company at the big game.
Arriving in the Steel City just after 3pm, we drove through the Winter Classic banner-lined streets and arrived at the Wyndham Grand downtown, a quick walk across the river from the stadium and a hotel mobbed with fans of both teams. Crosby and Malkin jerseys hung in some windows, while Caps gear adorned others. We had to expect that the city would be buzzing for the weekend's festivities, but it still was an unbelievable site, as essentially everything going on had something to do with the NHL. It was, in short, a hockey fan's paradise.
Let's Go (Little) Caps!After checking in to our room, a few of us made our way to a rink adjacent to the stadium to watch the Little Caps play the Mario Lemieux-coached Little Pens. Watching a bunch of 14 year-olds who have more skills now than I ever did -- or will -- was both depressing and awesome, and while the team from Washington falling to their rivals from the Keystone State was a bummer, it was also a pretty cool way to kick off the weekend.
Back to the hotel, it was nearly time to get ready for New Year's Eve. I wish I had a better story to tell from this night, as those that were able to get into the Hofbrauhaus surely do, but it was a great evening nonetheless. We dined at Nakama, a killer Japanese steakhouse on the Southside, and more than a few times during the meal the ridiculously packed restaurant echoed with chants of "Let's Go Pens!" and "Let's Go Caps!", each one louder than the last.
Dinner ended, and while we worked on a game-plan as to where we'd ring in 2011, we were informed by someone on the inside that the Hofbrauhaus was one-in / one-out, meaning our group of 30+ people would have no chance at gaining access to what I've heard was a red-filled great time.
With little time to dilly-dally, we made an executive decision to begin walking and simply jump in to a bar that would accommodate us all. That bar would end up being Finn McCool's, a rather generic pub, but one that served its purpose; we did some shots, slammed our beverages of choice for the evening -- in my case, Captain & Coke -- and greeted the New Year with much merriment.
As closing time approached, we poured out into the Pittsburgh night and began looking for transportation, which, as it turns out, was harder to find than Sidney Crosby's moustache. So we walked, and walked, and ended up walking some more until we convinced one taxi driver to take a few of the girls in our group back to the hotel. A friend and I continued our journey on foot, ducking down barren streets and under gigantic overpasses before making it back to the Wyndham about 30 minutes later. Not the greatest accommodations for the amount of people the city had to expect, but all in all, it could've been much worse.
Saturday morning brought a new day, one in which severely cloudy skies could not dampen the excitement surrounding the lead-up to the game. As my wife and I were dehydrated and hungry, we decided to walk a few blocks to Market Square, which, according to my iPhone, would have plenty of healthy and nutritious options. I've heard great things about Primanti Bros. sandwiches, and while roast beef topped with fries would've been a most splendid treat, the amount of people waiting was too much to bear.
After much deliberation, we headed across the plaza to Breugger's Bagels, which had only 3 people in line -- one in a sweet Langway jersey! -- and prepared our stomachs for the long day ahead. Walking out of Bruegger's into a nearly empty square, a rather pretty blonde woman in her mid-30s approached and asked where the closest Macy's was. I said we were from out of town, to which she replied "me too... I'm married to one of the Capitals." Really. Do tell.
"My husband is John Erskine."
Nice. Erskine, he of the Rupp-beating, handlebar-toting variety, was married to a woman who appeared to be just as cool as he is. After explaining that "the wives went out for New Year's Eve and all those bitches are still asleep," all she wanted do was shop because "the rest of [her] family was at practice and she didn't want to watch that shit." Oh, and she also said her husband "looked like an asshole" with that handlebar moustache.
See, HBO audience? Not only do the coaches and players have foul mouths, but their wives do too!
At the risk of digressing -- and becoming entirely too long-winded -- it was getting dangerously close to go-time and we had to head back to rest up for what would prove to be a very exhausting -- yet unbelievably fulfilling -- evening.
Back to the hotel, it was nearly time to get ready for New Year's Eve. I wish I had a better story to tell from this night, as those that were able to get into the Hofbrauhaus surely do, but it was a great evening nonetheless. We dined at Nakama, a killer Japanese steakhouse on the Southside, and more than a few times during the meal the ridiculously packed restaurant echoed with chants of "Let's Go Pens!" and "Let's Go Caps!", each one louder than the last.
Dinner ended, and while we worked on a game-plan as to where we'd ring in 2011, we were informed by someone on the inside that the Hofbrauhaus was one-in / one-out, meaning our group of 30+ people would have no chance at gaining access to what I've heard was a red-filled great time.
With little time to dilly-dally, we made an executive decision to begin walking and simply jump in to a bar that would accommodate us all. That bar would end up being Finn McCool's, a rather generic pub, but one that served its purpose; we did some shots, slammed our beverages of choice for the evening -- in my case, Captain & Coke -- and greeted the New Year with much merriment.
As closing time approached, we poured out into the Pittsburgh night and began looking for transportation, which, as it turns out, was harder to find than Sidney Crosby's moustache. So we walked, and walked, and ended up walking some more until we convinced one taxi driver to take a few of the girls in our group back to the hotel. A friend and I continued our journey on foot, ducking down barren streets and under gigantic overpasses before making it back to the Wyndham about 30 minutes later. Not the greatest accommodations for the amount of people the city had to expect, but all in all, it could've been much worse.
Saturday morning brought a new day, one in which severely cloudy skies could not dampen the excitement surrounding the lead-up to the game. As my wife and I were dehydrated and hungry, we decided to walk a few blocks to Market Square, which, according to my iPhone, would have plenty of healthy and nutritious options. I've heard great things about Primanti Bros. sandwiches, and while roast beef topped with fries would've been a most splendid treat, the amount of people waiting was too much to bear.
After much deliberation, we headed across the plaza to Breugger's Bagels, which had only 3 people in line -- one in a sweet Langway jersey! -- and prepared our stomachs for the long day ahead. Walking out of Bruegger's into a nearly empty square, a rather pretty blonde woman in her mid-30s approached and asked where the closest Macy's was. I said we were from out of town, to which she replied "me too... I'm married to one of the Capitals." Really. Do tell.
"My husband is John Erskine."
Nice. Erskine, he of the Rupp-beating, handlebar-toting variety, was married to a woman who appeared to be just as cool as he is. After explaining that "the wives went out for New Year's Eve and all those bitches are still asleep," all she wanted do was shop because "the rest of [her] family was at practice and she didn't want to watch that shit." Oh, and she also said her husband "looked like an asshole" with that handlebar moustache.
See, HBO audience? Not only do the coaches and players have foul mouths, but their wives do too!
At the risk of digressing -- and becoming entirely too long-winded -- it was getting dangerously close to go-time and we had to head back to rest up for what would prove to be a very exhausting -- yet unbelievably fulfilling -- evening.
Crossing over to the dark side.Shortly before 4pm, the troops from the Wyndham gathered their gear and headed out into enemy territory. While there were certainly plenty of Penguins fans that were fine with the site of red-clad legions entering the Heinz Field parking lots, there also existed much good-natured animosity.
As we snaked behind the Hyatt and into Gold Lot 4, we were greeted with a thunderous round of boos and more than a few people telling us what they thought of everyone's favorite Russian-born Washingtonian. Most of it was in good fun, and I personally didn't see one fist thrown or serious confrontation, so kudos to everyone involved for remaining civilized.
As we snaked behind the Hyatt and into Gold Lot 4, we were greeted with a thunderous round of boos and more than a few people telling us what they thought of everyone's favorite Russian-born Washingtonian. Most of it was in good fun, and I personally didn't see one fist thrown or serious confrontation, so kudos to everyone involved for remaining civilized.
I can only imagine what a scene like this would've been like in Philly.Settling in to the tailgate nearly 3-1/2 hours before the game meant plenty of time to relish in the scene and observe some great moments. A few of my favorites (from both sides of the fence):
-- While our particular group of Caps fans was totally surrounded, we still had probably 100+ red-rockin' faithful making sure we wouldn't go quietly into the night. Plenty of insults were hurled our way, but the responses were always equally as boisterous.
-- The Pens tailgate next to us had two awesome additions: 1) a street hockey goal set up with three pictures (targets) dangling from the crossbar, two of Sid and Ovie shaking hands and one of Ovechkin's toothless grin; and 2) a hockey stick with 4 shot glasses attached a la the skis you used to see in movies like Hot Dog. Before the puck dropped, a group of fans stood in the back of a pick-up and must've done 10 shots a piece. Hey, whatever it takes to erase the memory of losing the Winter Classic at home, boys... I hope it worked.
-- The group of Pens fans next to us also had one thing that was interesting, sure, but I just can't see the point. Much like Caps jerseys that say "Crosby Sucks," I think spending money on a customized jersey only to ridicule someone or their team is lame. These particular fans had a red Caps sweater with the number 8 and DOUCHEBAG on the nameplate. Really? Don't you have better ways to spend that money you've earned by working so hard at Sheetz?
-- While our particular group of Caps fans was totally surrounded, we still had probably 100+ red-rockin' faithful making sure we wouldn't go quietly into the night. Plenty of insults were hurled our way, but the responses were always equally as boisterous.
-- The Pens tailgate next to us had two awesome additions: 1) a street hockey goal set up with three pictures (targets) dangling from the crossbar, two of Sid and Ovie shaking hands and one of Ovechkin's toothless grin; and 2) a hockey stick with 4 shot glasses attached a la the skis you used to see in movies like Hot Dog. Before the puck dropped, a group of fans stood in the back of a pick-up and must've done 10 shots a piece. Hey, whatever it takes to erase the memory of losing the Winter Classic at home, boys... I hope it worked.
-- The group of Pens fans next to us also had one thing that was interesting, sure, but I just can't see the point. Much like Caps jerseys that say "Crosby Sucks," I think spending money on a customized jersey only to ridicule someone or their team is lame. These particular fans had a red Caps sweater with the number 8 and DOUCHEBAG on the nameplate. Really? Don't you have better ways to spend that money you've earned by working so hard at Sheetz?
Just a small portion of our group.-- OK, I'll admit… while I love Bruce Boudreau, the guy is a pretty damn easy target for ridicule. The footage of him with BBQ sauce on his face alone is priceless (and was mocked pretty aggressively at the game), but perhaps the best sign I saw at the tailgate was one of Boudreau's mug next to a Haagen-Dazs logo and the words "I SMELL FOOD" in big, bold letters. If there was any reason to make fun of Bylsma, I'm not sure anyone could come up with something that would top BB's obvious love of all things consumable.
After a great tailgate that featured lots of laughs, plenty of cheers and good-natured ribbing, it was time to start walking. Heading towards the lights of Heinz Field and knowing that we were about to watch the Washington Capitals play hockey outdoors was pretty amazing. So much so that I must've said "this is so frikking awesome" 20 or 30 times, but hey, I had enjoyed a few cold ones... can you blame me for being excited?
As we entered the gates and made our way to the club level, wiping the smile off my face would've taken a Herculean effort. Nothing anyone could say or do would've taken away the high of getting to our seats and seeing what had been 7 months in the making.
When both teams made their way out of the tunnel below us, watching the boys in the crisp white sweaters and beautiful red pants strut out to a crowd of nearly 70,000 was a site and sound to behold.
After a great tailgate that featured lots of laughs, plenty of cheers and good-natured ribbing, it was time to start walking. Heading towards the lights of Heinz Field and knowing that we were about to watch the Washington Capitals play hockey outdoors was pretty amazing. So much so that I must've said "this is so frikking awesome" 20 or 30 times, but hey, I had enjoyed a few cold ones... can you blame me for being excited?
As we entered the gates and made our way to the club level, wiping the smile off my face would've taken a Herculean effort. Nothing anyone could say or do would've taken away the high of getting to our seats and seeing what had been 7 months in the making.
When both teams made their way out of the tunnel below us, watching the boys in the crisp white sweaters and beautiful red pants strut out to a crowd of nearly 70,000 was a site and sound to behold.
Just after this was taken, our camera was dunked into a 20 oz. cup of beer. Seriously, full submersion. We saved the memory card, but the camera was put to rest.It was officially time to get the Winter Classic underway and play some damn hockey, and play some damn hockey they did. After a scoreless first period that featured plenty of drama, the stage had been set for a final two frames that would surely be as intense as any these two teams have played. Neither was as sharp as it usually is, but that almost added to the atmosphere. It was good old-fashioned, rough-and-tumble, body-banging hockey at its finest.
Behind Knuble's poke-in, Fehr's pair and Varlamov's stellar play between the pipes, the Washington Capitals emerged victorious. The boys from DC won the Winter Classic at the hands of their biggest rivals in front of a primetime audience on New Years Day.
If anyone honestly thinks that the winner of this game wouldn't be insanely pumped, they simply don't have much common sense.
Was it the prettiest game the NHL has seen? Of course not. Will it erase the 6-2 drubbing in Game 7 two years ago and the years and years of heartache the Pens have caused the Caps dating back to the early 90s? No. Hell, it wasn't even the best Caps / Pens game I've been to (that belongs to the Super Bowl Sunday thriller in DC).
It was, however -- and pardon my Boudreau-isms here -- a fucking blast. It was the fucking best experience I've ever fucking had at a fucking hockey game in my life. The guys in white shrugged off a 1-goal deficit, played with fucking courage and had fucking fun out there.
After the game was over, an eerie silence fell over the Pittsburgh faithful, and I'll be honest, it was one of the greatest non-sounds I've ever heard. The walk out of the stadium was full of C-A-P-S CAPS CAPS CAPS chants. Sure, more than a few Pens fans asked, to nobody in particular, how many Cups the Caps have won, but at that moment it didn’t matter. The Caps owned this day and nothing will ever change that.
Joining tens of thousands of other Capitals fans as we took over whole sections of Heinz Field was an experience I can't imagine will ever be replicated. Between the 2nd and 3rd periods, with the Caps clinging to a 2-1 lead, I made my way up and down our empty row and high-fived as many Washington fans as I could reach. The game wasn't over yet and I probably looked like a bit of a dick, but it was a risk I was willing to take. The camaraderie was too strong to pass up an opportunity to bond with people I'll never know.
I was told to "sit the fuck down" and "shut the fuck up" by some middle-aged guy that probably hated the fact that he sat in the rain to watch his team lose, but hey, them's the breaks. I stood my ground, got plenty of support from the surrounding Caps fans and the visiting team prevailed, so all is right with the world.
The season series is now tied at one apiece, with two epic battles already in the books. The Caps and Pens meet twice more in the regular season and could, potentially, meet in the playoffs for a rematch of the 2009 Eastern Conference semifinals. Regardless of whether or not that comes to pass, the decision to have these two face for the marquee match-up and a chance to show the world what the NHL has to offer was a no-brainer.
It was a brilliant experience and one I'd do over a thousand times if I could.
--
A few more random notes from the weekend:
1. I drove right by the Fairmont on the way to Market Square on Sunday morning, and the Caps just happened to be leaving their hotel and loading up the team bus. As we approached, I rolled my window down as Mike Knuble walked by about 2 feet from my driver's side. I tried my damndest to yell out "K-NOOOOOOOBLE!", but with all the cheering and jeering I'd done the night before, it barely came out. He looked at me, said "hey" and kept walking (probably fearing for his life).
2. I also saw a few guys waiting to load the bus and Boudreau waddling around in his sweet red throwback varsity-style jacket. Again, I love the guy... but he could clearly stand to lose a few pounds.
3. Downtown Pittsburgh is an absolute ghost town on Sunday mornings, which is actually kind of sad. Market Square, which was understandably pretty dead on New Years Day, was much worse on the 2nd. The only place open was Starbucks -- no Bruegger's, no Dunkin' Donuts, no Einstein Bagel. Do people not go out to eat on Sunday mornings in the Steel City?
4. About the whole "rivalry" thing...
While I've only read one Pittsburgh-based reaction to the game -- and it was a blog, so take it for what it's worth -- it's amazing how idiotically some people react to scenarios like this weekend's. There is no doubt that the Capitals and Penguins are the best rivalry in the NHL right now, and any Penguins fan making fun of the Caps for celebrating the way they did is bitter, plain and simple.
Obviously a win like Saturday's will never get "Ovechkin," "Green or "Laich" engraved on the Stanley Cup, but who cares? It was the biggest game of the regular season on the biggest stage, and the Capitals reacted as any of the Penguins would -- with unbridled joy and enthusiasm.
If the Pens had come back and emerged victorious, you better believe they would've gone on and on about how the Caps can't win under pressure, how much Ovechkin sucks, etc. It certainly wouldn't have been "just two points" to any of the Penguins faithful, that's for sure.
I may be naïve in saying this, but I think Caps fans that made the journey to Pittsburgh would've left the weekend feeling as though they were part of something great, regardless of the outcome (assuming it wasn't a blowout). I know that's the way I feel, and no Pens fan trying to rain on the Caps parade is going to change that.
Behind Knuble's poke-in, Fehr's pair and Varlamov's stellar play between the pipes, the Washington Capitals emerged victorious. The boys from DC won the Winter Classic at the hands of their biggest rivals in front of a primetime audience on New Years Day.
If anyone honestly thinks that the winner of this game wouldn't be insanely pumped, they simply don't have much common sense.
Was it the prettiest game the NHL has seen? Of course not. Will it erase the 6-2 drubbing in Game 7 two years ago and the years and years of heartache the Pens have caused the Caps dating back to the early 90s? No. Hell, it wasn't even the best Caps / Pens game I've been to (that belongs to the Super Bowl Sunday thriller in DC).
It was, however -- and pardon my Boudreau-isms here -- a fucking blast. It was the fucking best experience I've ever fucking had at a fucking hockey game in my life. The guys in white shrugged off a 1-goal deficit, played with fucking courage and had fucking fun out there.
After the game was over, an eerie silence fell over the Pittsburgh faithful, and I'll be honest, it was one of the greatest non-sounds I've ever heard. The walk out of the stadium was full of C-A-P-S CAPS CAPS CAPS chants. Sure, more than a few Pens fans asked, to nobody in particular, how many Cups the Caps have won, but at that moment it didn’t matter. The Caps owned this day and nothing will ever change that.
Joining tens of thousands of other Capitals fans as we took over whole sections of Heinz Field was an experience I can't imagine will ever be replicated. Between the 2nd and 3rd periods, with the Caps clinging to a 2-1 lead, I made my way up and down our empty row and high-fived as many Washington fans as I could reach. The game wasn't over yet and I probably looked like a bit of a dick, but it was a risk I was willing to take. The camaraderie was too strong to pass up an opportunity to bond with people I'll never know.
I was told to "sit the fuck down" and "shut the fuck up" by some middle-aged guy that probably hated the fact that he sat in the rain to watch his team lose, but hey, them's the breaks. I stood my ground, got plenty of support from the surrounding Caps fans and the visiting team prevailed, so all is right with the world.
The season series is now tied at one apiece, with two epic battles already in the books. The Caps and Pens meet twice more in the regular season and could, potentially, meet in the playoffs for a rematch of the 2009 Eastern Conference semifinals. Regardless of whether or not that comes to pass, the decision to have these two face for the marquee match-up and a chance to show the world what the NHL has to offer was a no-brainer.
It was a brilliant experience and one I'd do over a thousand times if I could.
--
A few more random notes from the weekend:
1. I drove right by the Fairmont on the way to Market Square on Sunday morning, and the Caps just happened to be leaving their hotel and loading up the team bus. As we approached, I rolled my window down as Mike Knuble walked by about 2 feet from my driver's side. I tried my damndest to yell out "K-NOOOOOOOBLE!", but with all the cheering and jeering I'd done the night before, it barely came out. He looked at me, said "hey" and kept walking (probably fearing for his life).
2. I also saw a few guys waiting to load the bus and Boudreau waddling around in his sweet red throwback varsity-style jacket. Again, I love the guy... but he could clearly stand to lose a few pounds.
3. Downtown Pittsburgh is an absolute ghost town on Sunday mornings, which is actually kind of sad. Market Square, which was understandably pretty dead on New Years Day, was much worse on the 2nd. The only place open was Starbucks -- no Bruegger's, no Dunkin' Donuts, no Einstein Bagel. Do people not go out to eat on Sunday mornings in the Steel City?
4. About the whole "rivalry" thing...
While I've only read one Pittsburgh-based reaction to the game -- and it was a blog, so take it for what it's worth -- it's amazing how idiotically some people react to scenarios like this weekend's. There is no doubt that the Capitals and Penguins are the best rivalry in the NHL right now, and any Penguins fan making fun of the Caps for celebrating the way they did is bitter, plain and simple.
Obviously a win like Saturday's will never get "Ovechkin," "Green or "Laich" engraved on the Stanley Cup, but who cares? It was the biggest game of the regular season on the biggest stage, and the Capitals reacted as any of the Penguins would -- with unbridled joy and enthusiasm.
If the Pens had come back and emerged victorious, you better believe they would've gone on and on about how the Caps can't win under pressure, how much Ovechkin sucks, etc. It certainly wouldn't have been "just two points" to any of the Penguins faithful, that's for sure.
I may be naïve in saying this, but I think Caps fans that made the journey to Pittsburgh would've left the weekend feeling as though they were part of something great, regardless of the outcome (assuming it wasn't a blowout). I know that's the way I feel, and no Pens fan trying to rain on the Caps parade is going to change that.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment