Game 7. Tomorrow the season ends.

Game seven. Stanley Cup Final. Detroit. Pittsburgh. Tomorrow the hockey season ends. Part of me is looking forward to this with glee. Part of me, like most season-endings, wonders how I’ll fill the void of not having hockey to watch for a while. Part of me is really, really ready for a break. Some of that latter is driven by “the media” — as we go further into the playoffs, more and more writers chase less and less news and still need to fill those stories and columns, and it all gets so unbelievably over-analyzed and silly. Or sad. Writers burn out on the season  as well, and they take on a “can’t we just get this the hell over with?” tone that makes them sound like they don’t really like the sport. They do, they’re just worn down. Too bad they don’t see in their own attitude the players, who have to fight through a much harder, longer, more physical season and aren’t allowed the same grumpy mood. Of course, then there are the writers who have that “this all sucks” mood year-round. Why do you folks out there read them, anyway? But that’s for later. Maybe. Tomorrow, either Detroit or Pittsburgh takes the Cup, and the season is over. Will Detroit do the almost-impossible and win back to back? Will Pittsburgh do the even more almost-impossible and...

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