I remember watching my first playoff run in 1994 like it was yesterday. My elementary school played a fight song every game day, we got cars to “honk for the Canucks” as they drove past our cul-de-sac on game days. I forced my cat Tigger to sit in the same spot on the couch as he was clearly good luck… Bure, Linden, McLean - it was amazing. I was hooked as a fan.
The Canucks lost in the Stanley Cup Final that year. To which my father responded optimistically:
“You know what? There’s always next year!”
And then pessimistically:
“We may never see the Canucks win the Stanley Cup in our lifetimes”
Geez, bit grim there Dad…. but he’d been following the team since their inception in 1971 so he had 23 years of mediocrity and a Stanley Cup final loss in 82 under his belt.
I ignored his history lesson - if it wasn’t this year it had to be the next. Right? Right? WRONG!
We got close in 95, 03, 07, 09, 10, really close in 2011, somewhat close in 2020. And now here I am - THIRTY BLOODY YEARS LATER - ever hopeful, steadily more superstitious, and experiencing a level of stress watching hockey I haven’t felt in ages. It feels amazing.
And you know what? I THINK THIS MIGHT BE THEIR YEAR! And if not there’s always next year.
#NoRiotsPlease