This is, without a doubt, my favorite sports time of the year. The NCAA Tournament is big fun, especially in its first and final weekends, the Super Bowl is indeed a spectacle and the World Series is often worth watching (for the most part). But the best tournament, at least for my money, is the NHL Stanley Cup Playoffs.
In the Playoffs, what is normally a fast, hard-hitting sport becomes even more intense than one would otherwise think possible. Defenders (and forwards) fall in front of a piece of vulcanized rubber traveling at times in excess of a hundred miles an hour just to keep it from finding the back of the net. I'd hate to see what some of those welts look like. Men skate with spaghetti for legs into third, fourth, even fifth overtime periods as fans sit transfixed into the wee hours of the morning waiting for someone, anyone to tuck the puck behind the goalie and put an end to the evening. Grievous injuries are ignored, coaches are told by other coaches to shut their yaps, razor companies across Canada and the northern U.S. anxiously await the end of the various series so that another town's men might once again groom their beards and the Gillettes of the world may once again turn profits.
Of course, the festivities are that much better when one has a rooting interest in the tournament. This year, my Tampa Bay Lightning are back in the playoffs for the first time since 2007 and I cannot wait to watch the action. Even if I have to wait until the next evening to do so. Or stay up until 4am. Doesn't matter. What passes for a beard on my face is slowly, inexorably growing toward its ultimate destiny as the Bolts tangle first with the Pittsburgh Penguins. I'm almost giddy and face-off's still 40 minutes away. Tick-tock, tick-tock.
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