going all the way.

I love playoffs.

When it gets down to the final eight, the final four, and WOO! the final two, I’m obsessed.

It doesn’t even need to be a sport I watch regularly, or if anyone else within 1,000 miles wants to come over and watch it with me. It doesn’t even need to be true finals, per se… just a game that means something.

Hell, if there’s a cup/trophy/plaque/crumpled piece of paper with “Congrats!” scrawled on the back up for grabs, I’m ready to choose my team and cheer.

Mind you, when it’s a sport I follow regularly, I’m twice as excited.

Which means that when the NFL is winding down in the winter or March arrives in the NHL or if the Mariners actually remember to TRY for a season, I’m as happy as a clam in my foam hand.

I’ve watched every game in preparation for the tense moments. I’ve earned the right to bounce around like a junebug in a lantern when we score.

But you can also give me the Celtics and the Lakers in the big nostalgia NBA finals, and I’m just as happy. Or March Madness. Or all the college football bowls. Or big moments in IndyCar.

In fact, if you pointed at two snails mating on the grass and said, “Look! Playoffs!”, I’d probably go looking for CrackerJacks and then come back to watch for a few hours.

I remember being in soccer finals or field hockey finals or big track meets back in the day, and feeling like my head was going to pop off my body from the intensity of the experience.

Now I’ve just carried that joy forward to the stands or the pub or my living room. And unlike back then, it’s okay for me to swear if we lose!

Some people will go out of their way not to miss reality television or science fiction shows or soap operas or sitcoms or American Idol or So You Think You Can Dance or even a big storm on the Weather Channel (actually, I’m right there with you on that one.)

But this girl loves the roar and intensity of a hometown crowd, the post-season beards, the horns honking on the street after a big win, and everyone rocking their jerseys on game days.

It’s a sickness, maybe.

But I HOPE I NEVER GET WELL.

GO PENGUINS! GO CELTICS! GOOOOOOO!

wee boys on skates.

Okay, so they’re not that wee, per se, just young. Much younger than me.

But WAY better at playing hockey.

I’m sitting in my living room (in front of my fireplace, drinking coffee, waiting to make myself brunch, still in my PJs… OH YES!) watching the IIHF World Junior Hockey Championships Gold Medal Game.

Canada vs. Sweden.

Tim Horton’s vs. IKEA. Wait, I’d want IKEA to win. Never mind that.

Anyway.

Canada, at two goals up at the end of the second period, looks to be headed for their fourth Gold Medal in a row, 14th overall. Sweden? Have one Gold from 1981.

None of these kids were even alive then.

Nice.

Me? I’m looking to be headed for my fourth cup of coffee.

This? Is awesome.

UPDATE:
Tied. And into OT. BLECH.

UPDATE: FOR THE WIN, BABY! YESSSSSS! FOURTH IN A ROW!