The penultimate Ice Age descended on our world 32 millennia ago. The North Sea, which by the time of the Crusades would be filled with marauding Vikings, froze over, with a massive sheet making it possible to walk — or rather skate — from Edinburgh to Oslo, Norfolk to Copenhagen, Shetland to Bremerhaven.
After 5,000 years, the ice rink gave way back to the High Seas. And ever since, those High Seas have been roamed freely by pirates, and then the Pirates.
That is, until April 16, 2024, a day that will live in infamy, when I began to neglect the game I was watching between the Pirates and the Mets and frantically refreshing the scores of two hockey games — between the Detroit Red Wings and the Montreal Canadiens, and between the Washington Capitals and the Philadelphia Flyers.
It was on that day when I realized that the Pirates had lost their spot. Once again, the High Seas had become an ice rink.
Ordinarily I don’t write about hockey. I write about college football and Pirates baseball. But the Penguins have never been far from my heart.
I was but a boy when the Penguins threatened, year after year, to upend the Chicago Blackhawks’ dynasty; when we were swept by Boston in the Eastern Conference Finals in 2013, I can never forget crying myself to sleep after Games 3 and 4.
I’ll never forget our magical run in 2016, when we won our first Stanley Cup in seven years, or the equally magical and even more exhilarating run in 2017, beating the Capitals and Senators in thrilling seven-game series.
In particular, that Eastern Conference Finals against Ottawa has formed something of a core memory. At 13, it was the first time I was released from the shackles of bedtime and allowed to watch all three periods.
I watched those games from the blue-and-white plaid couch in our basement, fiddling with the antennae to try to capture something like a good signal, sometimes with my dad, sometimes not.
Feeling like the underdog, I watched Ottawa goaltender Craig Anderson stand on his head and make the Pens fight for every game, while Doc Emrick’s timeless commentary brought the game to our static-filled television. Malkin’s five-hole goal at the end of regulation to tie Game 1, only for Bobby Ryan to win it for Ottawa on an overtime breakaway. The seven-goal explosion in Game 5, shelling Anderson, who I’d come to see as something of an evil deity; when we chased him, I thought it was a dream. Chris Kunitz’s goal, deep into double overtime in Game 7, going over Anderson’s shoulder before the netminder froze, falling backwards in slow motion as the hope ran down his exhausted shoulders while terror and anticipation drove the Penguins, the fans in the arena, and the city of Pittsburgh into bedlam. Beating the Nashville Predators in six games in the final, becoming the first team in the salary cap era to go back-to-back, was just gravy.
Hey, Kyle, uhhhhh… aren’t you supposed to be writing about baseball? I feel like we’ve given you enough hockey space. Hurry it up.
Shut up, Eshaan. They’re horrible. As I was saying:
I was there for the hope-filled 2018 run, when winning three in a row seemed not only plausible but inevitable, before it all came crashing down in an overtime loss in Game 6. I was there for the dog years of 2019, 2020, and 2021. I stood in the upper bowl at PPG Paints Arena during the Penguins’ last playoff game to date, a Game 6 loss to the Rangers where the Penguins led 3-2 in both the series and the game into the dying minutes, only for a puck to bounce off third-string goalie Louis Domingue’s glove, over his head, and into the back of the net. Just two days later, I was lying in my new apartment as the Pens replicated the feat, losing a lead in the final minutes of Game 7 and throwing the series in overtime.
I was there last year, when the Pens’ 16-year playoff streak came to a sudden halt in the last game of the season. And I was there this year, as Pittsburgh came back from the dead, failing to collect only five points during the season’s last 13 games — losing in regulation only once — to come within an inch of the Stanley Cup Playoffs.
While Haley will undoubtedly write about the games themselves (almost certainly with the phrases “It’s so over” and “I’m gonna kill myself”), this baseball writer is affording himself free rein to talk about his feelings.
Dude, seriously, this is getting ridiculous. Talk about your feelings about baseball, okay?
Eshaan, shut up before I shave your head. Don’t you understand what really matters?
My feelings matter. But first, a very brief summary:
A point behind each of the Washington Capitals and Detroit Red Wings entering Tuesday’s games, we needed each of those two to lose their final games of the season, and we needed to beat the Islanders on Wednesday to wrap things up. The Red Wings were visiting Montreal, a team already eliminated from playoff contention, and the Capitals were visiting Philadelphia, two points back, and needing a regulation win coupled with losses from Detroit and the Pens to stay alive. The stage was set. If both teams lose, we control our own destiny.
Unbelievably, entering the dying minutes of both games, hope was alive in Pittsburgh. With time ticking down, the Canadiens led the Red Wings 4-3. The Flyers and Capitals were tied at 1-1, looking like they were heading towards overtime. It was a shame, because once they were in overtime, the Flyers wouldn’t have anything to play for, because not only did they need two points, they needed to hold off the Capitals from picking up any…
Seven minutes to go, and a horrible thought occurred to me. What if… what if the Flyers, desperate to get the regulation win, pulled their goalie?
When the Capitals put the puck in the empty net, it wouldn’t make any difference to Philly, for whom a regulation loss was no worse than an overtime win. But it would make all the difference in the world to the Penguins, who would fall three points back of Washington, instead of the two we’d fall back after a Capitals’ overtime win.
Oh my God, I thought. I texted Haley my fears. They did not assuage them. “OH I SEE WHAT YOU MEAN,” they replied. “Pooping my pants so hard.”
As this was unfolding, the Mets hung three runs on the Buccos in the seventh inning to take the lead; I did not care. I had eyes and ears only for the arenas in Montreal and Philadelphia, and hopes and dreams only for the men wearing their uniforms. As the clock in Montreal wound down to eight seconds, I had nothing but gratitude for the good city of Montreal and fine people of Quebec for the favor they’d done us. As the Philadelphia clock hit four minutes, then three, I was gripped with an insatiable terror that the Flyers would pull their goalie and cost us the season.
Then two things happened at once.
Are you done talking about hockey yet?????
The Red Wings scored, with three seconds left, on the final shot of regulation, to tie things up at 4, send the game to overtime, and keep their season alive. This put the Wings at least three points ahead of the Flyers, and ended Philadelphia’s season. I couldn’t believe the bad luck.
But John Tortorella, the Flyers’ erstwhile coach, hadn’t heard the news from Detroit, when, desperate to save his season, he pulled his goalie with three minutes to play in a 1-1 tie.
Seconds later, Capitals’ winger T.J. Oshie beat a man down the right flank and drilled the puck into the empty net.
And with that, the Capitals were in.
And we were out.
My face blank, I walked over to the snack cabinet. I broke out a giant bag of Mike & Ikes and shoveled out an unhealthy handful. With artificial sweeteners dripping down my unshaven chin, my roommate tried to cheer me up. “It sucks,” he told me. “But the Pirates were winning, right?”
I checked the score. Mets 3, Pirates 1. Final. The next day, with a 9-1 loss, the Pirates ate their first sweep of the season. And then lost two straight to the Red Sox to kick off a new homestand.
Maybe this is why men go to therapy.
This Week’s Results:
Game 16, Sunday – Pirates 9, Phillies 2
Game 17, Monday – Mets 6, Pirates 3
Game 18, Tuesday – Mets 3, Pirates 1
Game 19, Wednesday – Mets 9, Pirates 1
Game 20, Friday – Red Sox 8, Pirates 1
Game 21, Saturday – Red Sox 4, Pirates 2
How The Hunt Looks:
NL Central Standings
Milwaukee………………..13-6
Chicago……………….. 13-8 (1 back)
Cincinnati……………….11-9 (2.5 back)
Pittsburgh…………..…11-10 (3 back)
St. Louis……………….. 9-12 (5 back)
National League Wild Card
Chicago…………………. 13-8
Philadelphia……………..13-8
New York…………………12-8
Cincinnati……………….11-9 (1 back)
Pittsburgh…………..…11-10 (1.5 back)
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