So I got chapter 6 back from the editor about a week ago. I haven't really looked at it yet, and I should have, long and ever ago.
Playoffs, my only weakness.
Yes, my beloved Senators got dumped in round one, in a series that was a lot closer than most people think, but I'm still watching. Because I love hockey. More than most. Even if it's two teams that I hate (see: Washington vs Montreal), I can't help but watch. Especially in the playoffs.
Americans love the whole idea of baseball as a metaphor for life. They have it all wrong. It's hockey, and it IS life.
For those of you who don't enjoy hockey, I feel sorry for you. You can't appreciate the feeling of passion that comes with the cold smell of ice in your nose, and the sound of steel on ice in the air. The feeling of wooden or concrete seats under your ass, eating rink fries and cuddling into your sweater. You'll never know the feeling of power you get when you strap on a pair of skates and step onto the ice with a stick in your hand. The absolute feeling of victory you get when you snag a slapshot out of the air with your glove.
I think my editor will forgive me for being late on this chapter, and the next few. This is, after all, the post-season, the most wonderful time of the year. Nowhere will you see more grace, skill, and drive than you will in a hockey game. It is primal, but it also transcends humanity in a way that cannot be adequately described.