Au Revoir

Things I learned at the Joe on Saturday:

I OWN my section. So don't mess with me.

If you cannot tell I am bullshitting you, you are far too drunk.

Swearing at me about something that is out of my control will not get you far. In fact, it will get you close to thrown out.

I shook some hands and said good-bye to Tom and his friend that often accompanies him to games. I said I'd see them next year.

I said good-bye to Linda and she said she'd see me on Wednesday. I told her I didn't share her optimism, but she insisted on Wednesday.

The rest of my ticket holders could care less about me. That's okay, they sit in spots where I can't talk to them. These guys sit in row eighteen, so intermissions are spent talking with them or bullshitting some standing room peeps.

I don't want to retire in shame and disappointment. If the Wings manage to pull a game seven, I'm not sure I want to be there. I hate first round exits. A first round exit on a game seven is even worse. Yes, can you tell I've done this before?

Behold the power of optimism - but watching half-assed efforts and uninspired play on the ice is a hard thing to believe in.