At the end of the second period, this series was over; belief wavering.
People always talk about how tough it is to win the Stanley Cup.
We now understand that more than ever.
The Wings dominated the second period.
Almost enough to make you say to yourself, "This isn't worth it. I can't do it."
The Wings showed you how nearly impossible this dream is. When they are on, they are a machine.
But they just couldn't score. They couldn't deliver the kill shot.
It was arguably their best period of the series. And they had nothing to show for it.
So there was no throwing in the towel. Instead, you live and die with Hal Gill every time he is on the ice. You know there are thousands of others in their livings rooms and basements going through the same thing. And that makes all the difference.
In Game Three, Justice showed her beautiful face.
We sincerely hope Detroit fans aren't calling Crosby a whiner.
Johan Franzen's reaction to his obvious tripping call is the definition of whining. And then he holds his ear like he got shot after a clean body check.
Why can every player on every other team go to the box when they know they've tripped someone?
But Wings players act like they were just wrongfully accused of murder? Waaaaaahmbulance.
And then Jonathan Ericsson's embarassing interference in the third period.
Finally they got called on it.
And the Pens buried it. Game.
But unfortunately, Game Three means nothing right now.
Besides gay blogs talking about it, it is in the rearview mirror.
And here we are, facing the same situation we faced one year ago.
Every person invested in this series is in the same place they were a year ago.
Detroit fans are shrugging it off, as they know they just need a split of the games in Pittsburgh.
Penguin fans are riding high, knowing the Red Wings are beatable.
Game Four is where we get to right all the wrongs of last year.
And guess what -- Sidney Crosby isn't even a factor yet. Scary.