Sharks Gameday: The Death of the Offseason
|0-0-0, 0 points||0-0-0, 0 points |
|T-4th in Western Conference ||T-4th in Western Conference |
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The rebirth of promise. Of hope.
We were a fickle lot, consumed by carnal desires. Our eyelids grew weary with the weight of expectations we placed upon each day, a desolate march through the unrelenting summer sun. We burned and clawed at our skin until it was raw.
We became unknown even to ourselves.
The lack of sport can do terrible things to a man-- its embrace no longer warm, its eyes no longer uplifting, its voice no longer a symphony for the soul. To trudge along like a ghost became commonplace underneath the red August sky. So we weaved wreaths of gold and placed them upon our graves, graves of the men and women we had always hoped to be.
This shovel became our sabre-- this dirt, our destiny. From coast to coast the waiting game played out in a lethargic fashion as the days punched and bled into weeks and the months trickled by as we forgot to sleep. The cool breeze of ice replaced by stifling heat. The sound of goal horns replaced by casual conversation concerning ketchup and other assorted condiments. The nuclear blast of a Douglas Murray check substituted for stubbing your toe on the bedroom dresser as you get dressed in the morning. It was adrenaline, but it was empty.
And so we dug into this dirt with the ferocity of lions. A quest to become whole again. Oh to become whole again, to taste the sweet nectar that supplies us with a purpose that extends beyond letters and syllables and words and phrases and sentences and paragraphs. The novel of our existence. The soundtrack of our lives.
It is our time.
And now we stand. The mountain peak reached, our blood and sweat mere vestiges of the unforgiving hell of the offseason. Where conversation and discussion is nothing but a substitute for what we were digging for all along. Thunder cracks softly, lightning misses its mark. We are free and pure. We are angels of ecstasy.
Rest now, my burning heart. For we are home. For we are here. For we are finally whole again. Like a phoenix we rise above the dilapidated shanty towns we called existence during the last three months. Our needs met, our thirst quenched, our song of sorrow finally forgotten.
A wise man once said all you need is love.
In that case hockey, all I need is you.
Prediction: Sharks win 4-2. Goals by Heatley, McGinn, Setoguchi, and Boyle. God it's great to be back.