Willful Disbelief

10 Apr

It’s high time that we bring this blog back to life, and now’s a good time to do it. Why now, you ask? Because this is the time of year when I allow myself to buy into the dream of a Stanley Cup parade down Broadway wholeheartedly.

I know the chances are slim. Mathematically, the Predators have the same 6.25% chance of eating Fruit Loops out of the best damn cereal bowl in the world as fifteen other teams. Realistically, it’s hard to look at the Canucks, Sharks, and Red Wings and believe that the Preds can make it to the finals. Each of those teams are bigger, more talented, and more experienced. The Eastern Conference side of the equation, assuming they run the Western Conference gauntlet, doesn’t look much better. The Capitals, Flyers and Bruins aren’t quite as daunting as the foes from the west, but how much can the boys possibly have in the tank if they survive the Western Conference enduro-fest? Simply put, it’s easier to expect the worst and hope for the best. But I’m not having it.

I believe in this team, and not just this year. I believe in this team every year. Why? Because I can’t help it. Over the past thirteen years I’ve grown accustomed to seeing the fellas at 501 Broadway overcome their weaknesses, defy expectations and wring more effort and performance out of themselves than Bear Grylls squeezing water out of camel shit.

Like most of you, I’ve bought into the Predators. I hung onto my season tickets through the lockout. I went to the rally and told that stupid bastard from Blackberry to piss off (and have sworn to never own a RIM product). I’ve yelled obscenities at the radio when I’ve heard people on XM NHL Home Ice say we aren’t a hockey market. I too had to fight off the barfies after game 5. I get choked up during pregame warmups*. Why? Because I see some of my own story in that of the Nashville Predators. I see some of Nashville’s story in that of the Predators – overlooked, under appreciated, mocked, and cast off as an after thought.

So if you ask why I think that, despite all the odds, why I think the Preds are gonna dance with Lord Stanley, why I willfully disbelieve, against all apparent evidence (much like most atheists if I’m being honest), here’s the reason:

I want the Predators to win because it gives me hope that I can win.

And when they do, I’ll celebrate with them, because it means that I won, too.

(*Hey. If TJ Ouchie can cry on the bench, I can get choked up screaming my brains off for my boys, right?)

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