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Letting It Sink In

7th Woman's picture

As yesterday was Mother's Day, I didn't even have a chance to raed the newspaper. Too many things going on with the family. I also wasn't ready for the New York Islanders post mortem reports. I also didn't write anything. If I couldn't read the obituaries, I sure as hell wasn't going to be able to write one. I couldn't even go into the locker room for the post game interviews, it was too painful. I considered waiting on one of the padded folding chairs down in the exhibit hall for the coaches post game reports, but thought better of it when I wasn't sure if I could keep myself from openly weeping. I opted to buck the Coliseum traffic and listen to Chris King's post game report instead. Yesterday morning it felt more the same way as it did when my own daughter's softball team went to the Pony Nationals in Virginia, but left empty handed after three days while other teams moved on. The hard work, the passion, the heart fell short and the ride home from Virginia was painfully long and quiet. As Mark Herrmann said in his piece for Sunday's Newsday,

"At the intersection of hop and nostalgia, Islanders fans have grown to love the current team in a way not seen around here for many years."

It's so true. Which is what made the over time loss that much more painful. We wanted it for them, they wanted it more. In Mark's article, there is a photo of "Sign Guy" in the stands holding up his last sign of the season. "It's Our Time Now!" He really thought it was. When I bumped into Lou on the concourse after the game, we talked about how this team is just so close to making it happen again: the magic that was the New York Islanders. They're only a few pieces away. So maybe next season Lou can make a new sign that says, "Okay, NOW, NOW this is OUR time!" October can't come fast enough.