I can't decide whether to jump up and down or catch my breath
What is this feeling? This not knowing what to say, not believing my eyes as every sports station replays the highlights of a game I watched intently, not understanding as the other team hang their heads and apologize to their fans... having to repeat to myself, "Habs won. Second round of the playoffs."
It's unreal. It's almost like being in love.
I'm trying not to get too carried away, because bracing myself for whatever happened is part of what's making me so happy right now. The Capitals were an excellent opponent (most of the time... I'm having some trouble wrapping my head around Alexander Semin's complete lack of scoring). I worried until the very last second that my Habs would be defeated. It's not that I don't have faith in my team, but I felt I had to prepare myself for disappointment should it occur. No disappointment, though, only joy.
I'm going to try and keep my feet on the ground while my head is in the clouds, dreaming that Montreal will kick every ass in its path on its way to Cup #25. I'm not going to deify our players or trash-talk the Capitals. But I want to give our Habs their due.
Jaro is beyond words. He's always been solid and reliable, and lately has arguably been the best thing about this team, but that only begins to describe the last game. Farmers everywhere will have to thank him for what I'm assuming is a skyrocketing increase in chocolate milk sales.
Our defence is general was awesome. Gill did what he needed to do - haters can hate, but I think last night they had no choice but to cheer for him. Subban is going to be missed in Hamilton, but I'm glad he's been a part of this and doesn't seem fazed by the challenge of the NHL playoffs. Hamrlik played smart - Angry Sal is probably eating his hat.
The We Speak French line of Moore, Lapierre, and Pouliot would have had a great game even without scoring the game-winning goal. By the way, Dominic Moore, your "who's dis guy" status has been permanently removed.
This was a series in which our big-ticket players and our supporting acts carried the load equally (you know, whatever wasn't automatically picked up by life-saving goaltending).
On to the Penguins. We've got an insider - I'd call Hal Gill our "spy," but at his size, I just can't picture him being very stealthy.
Now if you'll excuse me, I need to rewatch those highlights a few more times and pinch myself.