Sucks to Be Charlie Brown.............

Sucks to Be Charlie Brown........


Lucy. What a Chick!

She wants to hold the football for Charlie to kick. Problem is, Charlie doesn’t believe her because the last million or so times, she has pulled the ball back just as Charlie is about to kick it, sending him flat on his back. She begs. She pleads. Eventually, Charlie, being ever so forgiving and trusting (naive?), relents and runs up to boot the ball.......well, you know what happens.

Here’s my problem. I just realized that I am Charlie Brown.

What do I mean? Well, as the fog in my head comes and goes due to the fact that I stayed up until 2:30 am last night watching hockey, I have moments of relative clarity. In those moments, I realize by “Charlie-Browness.” See, the Red Wings won the President’s Cup for the best regular season record this year. They got the record for wins on the road. They won everything in sight during the regular season. They face the team with the worst record of all playoff teams in the first round of the playoffs. Lord Stanley himself would put big money on the Wings, that is, if he were still alive.

At somewhere around 2:20 am, the Edmonton Oilers scored a sudden-death overtime goal to hand the Red Wings their second loss of the series. We are down 2-1 in the best of 7 series. Worse, though, is the fact that the Red Wings are playing like they are thinking about their tee times instead of the Stanley Cup. I trudged up to bed at 2:30 am muttering and thinking of bad words.

This morning, I got up at 6:00 am, my mind a sluggish, gooey mess from lack of sleep and Red Wings induced depression. As I nursed my first cup of coffee (the first of many, many, cups), I had my Charlie Brown epiphany. As the sun rose, a brilliant ray of sunshine shone down upon me. The skies cleared, and I believe I heard a chorus of angels. In that moment, I realized that the Red Wings were Lucy. They are the ones that tempted me and begged me and cajoled me to watch them win the Stanley Cup. They are the ones that told me to forget about the early playoff losses in the last two years despite their outstanding records. They are the ones who told me to forget my vow to never waste time watching playoff hockey again. And, to make things worse, they succeeded! Last night at 2:19 am I was running furiously toward the ball, set to kick it for all it was worth. At 2:20 am, the ball was lifted and I landed flat on my back. That is where I remain today (in a figurative sense).

Let’s see, the next game is Thursday night. Wonder where I’ll be?

Blawgerman