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The last game of the season is tonight and I enter it with mixed emotions. On one hand it’ll be nice to be able to watch a game with almost no emotional involvement. On the other hand I almost wish that I was able to have emotional involvement because that would mean that the Sabres were in the playoffs. I’m not sure how I feel and I guess the last game of this season will set up how I’ll feel about next season.

I’m not about to use the adage that most people in Buffalo seem to use everyday when it comes to our sports teams. There’s always next year. There they are the words of death, there’s always next year. If we keep hoping that next year is going to be the year, I’m pretty sure we’re always going to be disappointed. In the world of hockey things never seem to change, sure the players rotate in and out. But just when we seem to be getting somewhere our dreams are dashed because the players decide that they have better things to do than play the game that they’ve been paid to play.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m sick of waiting for next year, why can’t it be this year? Oh that’s right because the Sabres decided that they didn’t want to win, now I’m not placing blame on any one person. Because believe me there is enough blame to lay down on everyone associated with the team.

At Sara’s birthday party last night a group of four of us sat around the dining room table and preceeded to solve all of the Sabres’ problems. Which included having every single person in the Greater Buffalo Area contribute a dollar to a fund in which we would attempt to buy the Sabres from Golisano. Now after discussing this prospect for awhile we decided that that would be a disaster and that we should nix that idea. We discussed who should stay and who should go. Who was to blame and what changes we want to see next year. There was some pretty intelligent conversation going on between people who had been drinking for awhile and I’m pretty sure if Regier had been sitting there we would have given him a few pointers on how to run the team.

Like I said I go into tonight’s game with mixed feelings, but I hope for the Sabres’ sake that they can come out with a win and make the end of the season a happy time, even though they didn’t make the playoffs.

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Because I’m sure the Sabres could use a few hundred easy buttons right now, and I’d be willing to spend every last penny that I have to my name on them.

I really need the Sabres to make the playoffs.

Last night during the game I was at work.  Now I’ve promised M.J. that I would keep her updated on the games, so I was fulfilling my duty.  I told her, when we were down three goals, that I felt like crying.

I’ve only cried over the Sabres twice.  Once when Brian Holzinger was traded (I was 7), and again when Brian Campbell was traded (DON’T JUDGE ME).

I really didn’t want last night to be the third time.  And it would have been, had it not been one of my coworker’s birthdays, and there was leftover cake.  Derek Roy would be so proud of my emotional eating last night.

So what’s left?  Toronto?  Okay; doable.  Carolina?  Eek.  I’m worried because of the tear they’ve been on lately.  And it seems Mike Ryan has a way of making me hate him when teams I like play against him (see, February 10th’s Portland Pirates game against the Albany River Rats).  Boston?  As I said yesterday, alright.

Really, I have faith that the Sabres can pull off their end of the bargain.  Hell, the score might not show it, but they didn’t play all that badly last night in my opinion.

I just could have used a bottle of wine after the game, is all.

The tough part will be to bank on Florida and the Rangers losing both of their games.

New York is up against Montreal and Philly (two games), and Florida versus Philly, Atlanta, and Washington.

I think it can happen.

But…  Just in case…

easy-button

I was really hoping that the Sabres season wouldn’t come down to this, depending on wins against Detroit, Carolina, and Boston, as well as losses from everyone else, to get us into the post-season.

Call me a Debbie Downer, but let’s be realistic.  I’m just prepping myself for the pain I’m going to feel Sunday morning when I can no longer watch the Sabres until September.

And don’t think this doesn’t kill me, because it does.

Last night, while Kim and I were watching the Blackhawks game over at Clare’s with Emily, I was being all optimistic.  I honestly don’t remember what I said, but it was something along the lines of, “Hey, the Sabres can make it!”  But then I had to go and ruin it for myself by saying that, even if they do make the playoffs, they won’t go further than the first round.  I mean, Boston?  The Boston Bruins?  For serious?  We went 3-2 against them this year (…which is actually a lot better than I had thought; I remembered us getting killed by them basically every single time we played them except for the debut of the third jersey.  Apparently I don’t pay attention enough?).  Yes, that’s not entirely all that bad, but Boston has been atop the East all season, and they’re a damn good team who hasn’t had to kill themselves to *maybe* make the playoffs.  The Sabres would be tired, and probably wouldn’t stand much of a chance against the Bruins.

And I don’t know what’s worse…  Missing the playoffs?  Or the propects of being obliterated in the first round?

Hell, I’m going to be the same old optimistic fan I always have been.

We’re going to the finals.

 

On another note, my new best friend Ashley who lives up in Portland is the love of my life.  Mike Funk news and pictures are two of my favorite things ever, and she knows just how to make me happy.

Anne and I have been swooning for 12 hours straight for many reasons, and it’s not doing our psyches any favors.  We wouldn’t have it any other way, though.

 

And lest I forget, it’s Sparky’s Birthday!!!  Happy 24th Grizz!

macarthur_princess

Like your typical Doof/Man-Child, Clarke doesn't know how to take a picture properly. And this is why we love him.

Go Sabres!  Let’s make it happen, boys.  I can’t take your tears, so I’d better not see any.  Although, if you’re crying, I’ll be crying, and then I wouldn’t see anything, buy you know what I mean.

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