A funny thing happened on the way to the Caps game

I decided about two weeks before Christmas that Caps tickets would be the perfect present for Max, and since Russ works all home Caps games, for me too. I was eyeing the Dec. 28 game vs. Montreal Canadians - not only because it was over Max's winter break so it would be a good time for him to stay out late, but also because it was against the infamous team that knocked the Caps out of Cup contention in Round 1 last season - a rematch we needed to see. As I was looking at ticket prices online, I got a call from a friend who was selling two tickets to that very game. The price was right, I lined up a sitter for my other two kids, and enthusiastically said "I'll take them!"

Max was beyond thrilled when he opened his Caps tickets on Christmas morning, along with his Winter Classic Nicklas Backstrom shirt, his Caps hockey socks for his own practices, his Caps pajama pants. He had a great Christmas and couldn't stop talking about how he was going to the game on Tuesday night.

In the wee hours of Sunday, Dec. 26, when everyone else was asleep at my parents' house in Delaware, where we'd gone Christmas Day, Russ and I both were awakened by the stomach bug. Russ had it worse than me, so we got up in the morning, my dad packed the car, and we hunched over the steering wheel and drove 2 hours back home so we could spend a miserable day lying around and sleeping while the boys tore the house apart with their new toys. I kept thinking "please don't let Max get this for the Caps game... please."

Monday was all-clear, Tuesday (gameday) rolled around and everyone was good and healthy. We had friends over for a playdate all afternoon - complete with pizza and Krispy Kremes*. When his friends left at 4:30pm, just an hour before the babysitter was to arrive, Max was psyched up about the game and talking about which shirt he was going to wear (Winter Classic).

I ran upstairs to shower and get dressed in my own Caps clothes, and when I came downstairs, I found Max sound asleep in the couch. Not a good sign. I woke him up and told him it was time to get dressed and he slowly dragged himself upstairs, only to lie back down in bed. He insisted that he wanted to go the game, felt fine, but was just tired. I tried to block out the nagging feeling that the bug had gotten him too, and I knew it was quite possible the pukes, or the runs, weren't far behind. We decided that instead of taking Metro, like we planned, we'd drive down in case he wanted to rest in the car. Then we left, with a warning to the babysitter that I wasn't sure how long we'd last.

As we drove down 270, I checked on him several times and he kept saying he was ok (not convincingly) and to keep going. As we got off on Cabin John Parkway and headed closer to the DC border, he said "Mom, I need you to turn around. My tummy hurts and I can't go." Not the words I wanted to hear at all. I like to believe I'd do anything for my kids and I am that perfect, nurturing mom when they are sick, but I REALLY wanted to go to that game, so I have to admit that I was more than bummed. But, because I knew that taking a miserable, sick kid to a Caps game wouldn't be any fun anyway, I turned around. Called the babysitter to tell her we were on our way, and we wove our way back up to 270. Just as we got on the highway, I asked Max how he was doing, and he didn't answer me. I could see that he was awake in his seat two rows back in the Suburban, and when I asked again, his answer was, and I quote, "(the-puke-sound-all-moms-know-and-hate--especially-when-it-comes-from-inside-the-car--three times-in-a-row)"... AGH.

I started freaking out, telling Max "we're almost home!", "it's OK!", all those things moms are supposed to say. I was now officially over the fact that we're going to miss the game and am totally consumed by the poor, puking kid in the car. And just then, when I'm at the lowest of lows, convinced we're having one of the worst.nights.ever, it was as if all the Who's down in Whoville started to sing even though the Grinch stole their presents, when Max, in his healthy voice says "Mom?? I feel fine now! I want to go to the game!"

For all the moms reading this - what would you do??? He wants to go to the game... YOU want to go to the game... the puke is out, but stinking up the car, but you know your kid and know that he actually really SOUNDS better. Luckily for me, my good friend, fellow Caps fan and mom of four, called me at that very moment and didn't act like I was completely nuts to actually think about taking him to the game (thank you, Heather). She even directed me to what she thought would be the best place for a quick clean-up, the Best Western in Rockville. Remember, we're almost home, it's 6:30pm (game is at 7pm) and we left the house at 5:40pm. We ran into the hotel bathroom, wiped off Max's pants, grabbed as many paper towels as possible, went back to the car and wiped up as much of the barf as we could (there was a LOT - *refer back to pizza and Krispy Kremes), called the sitter to tell her we're actually NOT coming home, put the windows down, and headed south on 270.

We turned on the radio and listened to pregame coverage, which turned into the start of the game as we got closer and closer to Verizon. I cringed as we went over every bump on Connecticut Ave waiting for the next round, called out about a thousand times "you ok, Max??" and was actually pretty sure that when he said "yes" in a very determined voice that he meant it. We found the closest garage to the arena, parked and made a mad dash up the ramp, into the arena, up four flights of steps, into our seats and the score was 0-0. With a HUGE sigh of relief we realized we didn't miss a thing, and, more importantly, that we made it... just in time, within about 2 minutes of us sitting down, the Caps scored. That was the first of three Caps goals that night. The Habs scored none. First shut out for the Caps since Nov. 26 (according to Max). It was a perfect game, and Max was one of the happiest fans there - jumping, cheering, shouting, and thrilled to be there to witness the Caps' last game of 2010. Happy even though I wouldn't let him eat or drink anything when we were there (those seats are pretty steep - no telling what damage some vomit could do).

The car still stinks no matter all of our attempts at spraying, wiping, cleaning, so it's being detailed next week. That's one lingering after-effect of our big night - we have only one picture, taken with my phone to prove that we were actually there. I even accidentally left the tickets in the pocket of my jeans and washed them, so that evidence is gone. But this is truly a night that will go down in history for me, for Max, as the night that we proved to ourselves how much we love a good Caps game... and how in that arena with all those superstar athletes, Max might have been the best sport of all.

Baby, I Laich It

This story will never get old. Brooks Laich stops to change a tire on the way home from losing Game 7 in the first round play-offs. The two women happen to be Caps fans on their way home from the game, and they call the Washington Post to report his good deed.

Now Laich is a nominee for Sports Illustrated's Sportsman of the Year. While it's usually Ovechkin, maybe Green, racking up the awards, it's great to see someone recognized for more than just being an incredible player. Brooks Laich seems to be a really decent guy - if he weren't for him, our stalking might never have taken off, as he was the first player to sign Max's shirt. I have heard from other stalker fans in the parking garage that he has been nothing but nice in person and always makes time for signing autographs.

While fans cheer for fights and Power Plays, it's nice to also be able to cheer for the good guy - the guy who stops to change a tire just hours after his team suffered what was probably the most shocking loss in its history. Gotta LOVE Laich for that - #21, we'll be rooting for you!

Ovie, what's in your wallet?

Max and I attended the Caps Convention this weekend and I rediscovered one of the reasons why, as a mom, I love this team. The panel “Kids Press Conference”, when kids ask the questions of the players, is one of the most popular draws of the day. Three players – Matt Bradley (#10), Eric Fehr (#16), and Alex Ovechkin (duh) – by the way, three players that have all been successfully stalked by me and Max – sat on a podium with a microphone and answered any and all questions asked by the kids. The questions ranged from “what’s your favorite color” (blue for Ovie and Fehr; red "rock the red" for Bradley), to “what kind of car do you drive” (ha, try waiting for them in the parking lot, kid!), to “what is your least favorite part of hockey (Fehr and Ovie – “injuries”; Bradley – “an early exit”), to the clever-but-obviously-prepped-by-an-adult question “Ovie, what’s in your wallet?” (answer “a credit card” – of course, but sorry Capital One, you missed that plug). One little girl came up and told the players it was her birthday, and asked Fehr and Bradley to sing to her in English and Ovie in Russian. They all happily obliged and it was so sweet. When one of the best hockey players in the world is singing “Happy Birthday” in Russian to a little fan, talking about how he picked his number because his mom was #8 when she played basketball, and telling everyone he’s the youngest of three boys (no pressure, Will), you can’t help but forget just how good he is and see him as a regular person. As for Fehr and Bradley, who are awesome players too, I developed a new-found respect for these guys as people that will definitely translate over to how I feel about them on the ice. And the best part of all, Max (and a room full of kids) got to see this too, and truly understand that their idols are people too – funny, engaging, and nice ones at that.

Meanwhile, as I write this, we are just one day away! The Caps start their regular season tomorrow night in Atlanta at 7:30pm (on Comcast SportsNet, I might add) and we can’t wait. After last year, we know the regular season is a long one, and some would say it doesn’t matter as long as they do well in the play-offs. While I definitely do care about the play-offs, I can’t wait for all 82 games between now and April 9, when the tension isn’t so high – games to watch with Max, with Russ, with friends, and with Nate and Will when they care enough. While I really hope they win the Cup this year, I can’t wait for us to just enjoy being Caps fans again.
Let’s Go Caps!!

Stalking, for Max's sake

After nearly 5 months since the epic loss, Caps Training Camp officially opened at 10am on Saturday morning, and Max and I were there at 9:40am. Sure, we couldn't wait to get into the cold ice rink and watch the players - both old and new - skate and hit and shoot and score. We couldn't wait to see the familiar names on the backs of their practice jerseys and think about all of our expectations for the upcoming season. And it's very cool at Kettler, where they practice, because you sit in bleachers right there on the ice, with the players banging up against the plexiglass when they play, and catching their breath right in front of you as they take a break. You see their faces when they're intensely practicing, when they're pushing themselves during sprints, or when they're joking around with a teammate. Having the chance to see our favorites players up close and personal makes us fully appreciate just how good they are, and it makes us feel even more attached to the team. But practice is just part of the equation for us - I'd say it's half of why we make the trip to Kettler. "Stalking," as some call it, makes up the other half...

Stalking, for us, is waiting outside for players in hopes of getting an autograph and/or photo. Max and I have become masters at it. Ever since our first practice last season, when we happened upon Brooks Laich as he walked out the doors of Kettler and signed Max's shirt, we were hooked. The next time we went, we waited outside the main doors of the practice facility and waited for more players. Max got autographs from David Steckel and John Erskine, while Will was lucky enough to get Ovechkin's after throwing a crying fit. While it was awesome to get Ovie's signature, it was a bit lost on 4-year-old Will. Max did not get his jersey signed by Ovie that day, and wasn't going to let it go. So, we went back two more times last spring, just me and Max, and were able to get Mike Knuble, Boyd Gordon, Eric Fehr, Thomas Fleishman, Semyon Varlamov, Jose Theodore, Matt Bradley, Jason Chimera, both Morrisons (who are now gone), Laich again, and even Coach Boudreau. Max even got gutsy enough to ask all of those players for a photo after they signed his jersey. He had gotten Backstrom's autograph and photo at a Wizards game, so he had most of the team, but with two major omissions - Alex Ovechkin and Mike Green - arguably the team's two biggest stars. So we knew in the '10-'11 season, we had our work cut out for us.

On Saturday, we checked out two separate parking lots where the players park - one on top of the mall, and one a level below. We spotted Ovie's car up top, so we knew where he'd be exiting after he finished on the ice. We headed inside to watch "Group A"practice - Ovie was part of this group. As soon as the players left the ice, we headed outside, in front of the doors, Max armed with a sharpie and me with a regular camera and cell phone camera. We waited, and waited, and waited. It was hot and sunny (and remember, we were wearing pants and long-sleeves since we had been sitting inside the ice arena), Max was hungry, but we didn't budge (and I swear, he consented - I offered him several chances to go back inside, but he wanted to wait it out). I was nervous that after all of our waiting Ovie would either never appear, or just blow us off and head to his car (can't blame him - he just practiced for the first time in months, and looked a bit tired - probably wasn't super in the mood to mingle with a bunch of crazies outside). Finally, after more than an hour, Max said "Mom, here comes Ovie," and sure enough, he was on the other side of the glass door, about to come straight at us. I have to say, it's a bit surreal when he walks out - you think it's going to sound like Justin Beiber appeared, with people screeching and yelling his name - but it's quiet and kind of calm. So Max was the first person to approach Ovie (wearing a white wife beater), and ask him to sign his jersey. He did, thank goodness. He wasn't unfriendly at all, but he definitely didn't seem to be overjoyed about it. Then someone else got a turn, and Max was back in front, asking him to sign on his 8 (come on Ovie - do it right!), which he did. Then, Max asked for a picture, and thankfully, he did that too. Then, just like that, he was off and only stopped to sign one more autograph for a pretty teenage girl waiting by his car. My heart was racing and I couldn't wait to tell Russ, and to post my pictures on Facebook. But it was Max's moment - we high fived several times, stared at the photo on the camera, showed off his jersey, both talked to Russ on the phone, and just marveled at his moment. I mean, he had his jersey signed by one of the greatest hockey players of his time, and a picture taken with him!

After our Ovechkin success, we headed back inside for some long awaited lunch and to watch more practice (oh right, practice) where Mike Green was now on deck in "Group C" (we completely missed "Group B" for the Ovie stalking). As soon as this last group was done, we headed outside, checked for Green's car in the upper lot and when we didn't find it, headed down below, where sure enough, it was right by a more secluded exit. And there we sat, for more than an hour and a half. When you go down below in the parking garage, a whole subculture exists. It's not just the person who caught wind that Ovie might walk out to his car in broad daylight who sticks around for a few minutes just in case. The people down below go there for one reason only - to get to the players. To get jerseys, photos, and memorabilia signed. They know every car that's parked there, who drives it, and who came/went when. When I arrive with Max, we become "them" and we sit and swap stories about which players we have met, when, how nice they were, and we show off our signed goods. Max is often the only kid there, and I am the only mom sitting with my kid. The others are 20-somethings, retirees who have a new hobby of getting Caps autographs, or uberfans (we met the guy with the light up fingernails in that parking garage one day). For whatever our own personal reason might be, we're all there together, waiting patiently for any player to walk out. On Saturday, we were swapping our stories, when suddenly Mike Green - the guy we'd all been waiting for - walked out in skinny jeans and spiky hair. Max was first in line to get his jersey signed, then asked him to sign his stick (we happened to have it in the car and pulled it out just in case), and for a picture. Thankfully, Mike Green also did everything Max asked. Our very long day that was equally divided between watching practice and waiting in parking lots, had come to a very thrilling and "mission accomplished" end.

So when people make fun of me for my stalking habits, this is why I do it. For the chance to spend the day with Max, and for the chance to have a permanent reminder of those days - photos and signatures that can't be taken away, and to always take us back not only to this era of the Caps, but to the time in life when you're a kid and you're a fan, and you think your favorite players are just about the greatest people on earth (besides your parents, of course). It might seem like I am a crazy Caps mom, and I am, but there's a deeper reason for my madness - I stalk for the Max's sake.

Fan Fest - The Perfect Summer Fix

As the mom of young kids, summer is supposed to be the best time of all. Sun, fun, pool, beach, lazy days... while I do love all of this, I can't help but yearn for winter a bit - not only because my kids will be back in school (they're driving me a bit crazy), but also because it will be Caps season.
Since the loss in April, we have:
1) watched the remainder of the Cap-less Stanley Cup playoffs
2) adopted the Hershey Bears (the Caps farm team), watched them win the Calder Cup, and imagined a few of them (Carlson, Alzner, Neuvirth) wearing red and holding up the Stanley Cup
3) watched the NHL Awards and was thrilled to see Ovie take the stage to win the Lindsay Award. I watched his whole speech with a huge smile on my face - he can do no wrong
4) bought tickets for me and Max to attend the Caps Convention in October - can't wait to watch them reveal their Winter Classic uniforms!
5) sat by myself, in prime time, watching the NHL draft
6) started Max in a new hockey class and was psyched to pull out the pads and jersey again after a few months off, even if it meant going straight from bathing suits at swim team practice to changing in the back of my car into warmer clothes for the ice rink
7) BEST OF ALL - attended the Caps Fan Fest. Russ was going to be out of town, so a few weeks ago I gave Max the choice of going to the beach for the night or to the Fan Fest - it was an easy decision for him. "Fan Fest." So I got the boys (and me) dressed in Caps clothes (minus my youngest, who was grouchy and insisted on wearing a green shirt), loaded them in the car, and headed down to Kettler Ice Arena, where we hadn't been since the Pep Rally before the playoffs started. We were greeted by the familiar humongous blown up Caps jersey, but this time there were Caps moon bounces in the parking lot that the boys loved. Inside, it was packed beyond belief - we couldn't even get in the arena to watch the rookies scrimmage at first because it was "filled to capacity" (clearly the epic loss in the first round didn't hurt their fan base). We got faces painted, arms sprayed with tattoos, bounced outside, and then came in for the scrimmage. At that point, it wasn't so full that we couldn't get in, but it was so full that we couldn't get seats, so we sat on the floor in front, pushed up against the plexiglass. Rookies we've never heard of and might never hear of again wowed us with their play, their speed, and their pure desire to look good out there. It wasn't the familiar faces or numbers that we're used to, but it was no less exciting and exhilarating to watch. It ended in a shootout, but with three hungry kids, we only made it to the of regulation before it was time to eat lunch. Afterwards, we waited in the store line for 20 minutes before spending way too much money on Caps stuff for them, for me, and for our friends the Goodmans' new baby boy that we thought just HAD to have an "Unleash the Fury" shirt. We even got a quick visit with Slapshot.
This time, we didn't stalk any of the players, didn't get any autographs, didn't watch our favorite players out there, and don't have a game to look forward to in the next few days, but it was the summer Caps fix that I needed, and that I know Max needed. My younger two boys who haven't completely jumped on the Caps bandwagon yet even felt the Caps love and I think they're coming around. Even Will, the youngest in green, wanted a "Rock the Red" t-shirt for himself.
I realized that we're about halfway there - the loss was on April 28 and the first game is on October 8. Just under three months away from the loss, just under three months away from the start of the new season. I think this gave us what we need to get through the next Cap-free months, at least until preseason begins. Before we know it, summer will be a distant memory, and Max and I will be in the Convention Center, looking at those Winter Classic uniforms, just a few days away from Game 1. But first, we're off to the pool.

A Very Cap-py Birthday

Max's birthday is May 22, and for months, whenever we'd talk about what to do to celebrate, we'd always say "well, since the Caps might be playing that day..." Not IF they're playing, but WHEN they're playing. We thought about throwing a Caps party to watch the game. Max and I talked about trying to sneak a few players some invitations during our parking garage stake-outs, in case it was their off day and one of them was so inspired to make a kid's LIFE by driving out to the burbs and attending a 7-year-old's party.

We all know where this is going... no, the Caps didn't play on his birthday. Or the night before, or the day after. They played their last game almost a full month before his big day came along, so a Caps viewing party just wasn't in the cards. The players couldn't attend the party because they've long since traveled back to their native countries. Instead we watched the Flyers, who no one expected to make past the first round, win on his birthday. My dad had gone to the game a few nights before (my dad is a pretty big Philly sports fan - Phillies and Eagles, mainly - and this was his first ever trip to Wachovia Center - Max has even converted him to a hockey fan) and sent Max a shirt from the game, so he wore the XX-large tee and rooted for the Flyers. Basically, Max is a play-offs fan, and in each series, he loves finding someone to root for, someone to get excited about. I do too, but it's not as much fun.

Max had asked a long time ago for an Alex Ovechkin fathead for his b-day - the really big one - and we panicked after they lost, thinking that this present would get crossed off his wish list. After the loss, I cautiously asked him what he wanted for his birthday, and he said "an Ovechkin fathead. Even though they lost, I still want it!" Phew - no signs of long term damage from the defeat.

So that's what he got. The fathead, which is gigantic. It's 5 feet, 11 inches tall and 5 feet, 4 inches wide. We couldn't find a wall big enough in his bedroom for it, so it's in the basement, which is fitting because it's in the basement, with his little hockey goals set up between the wall and the back of a couch, that he becomes a cross between Ovie and Backstrom on offense, Varlamov in goal, and Joe Benanati when he calls his own shots and saves.

But it didn't end there. The zipper on his backpack was broken, so of course!, he needed a Caps backpack! And then my friend Marcie, scrapbooker extraordinaire, who also happens to be a huge Caps fan herself (born and raised one, which is more than I can say) was commissioned to make Max a Caps scrapbook. I handed over every picture from the season, game tickets, drawings Max doodles in school of funny looking people (mostly named Backstrom) with speech bubbles over their mouths that say "Goal!", and she pulled them all together in this amazing keepsake. Whether it remains in Max's room forever or in mine remains to be seen, but I like to imagine myself visiting Max in his own house some day, while we look through the album and reminisce about that first season when he (we) became a diehard sports fan... you know, the season when they blew it in the playoffs, right before winning those 5 consecutive Cups in '11-'15?? Ovie will be a middle aged Hall of Famer, and we'll say "we knew him when..."

By the way, not my birthday, but I still got myself a nice new Caps t-shirt - the time to buy is now, after they got prematurely knocked out, but before the new stuff comes in. The long-sleeve tee that I had been eyeing all season was marked down and I ordered it. I also ordered little Caps jerseys that will keep beer bottles cold, but they haven't arrived yet. If only we could tailgate at Verizon - we'd throw our cold beers in the Caps backpack, with our shirts on (not the Flyers one), and take lots of photos of the real Ovie (not the fathead) to add to next year's scrapbook. We'll be sure to save room in the back for pictures of the Cup. :)

The best player doesn't always win the game...

Because once again, all things come back to reality TV and the Caps... I have been questioning what makes someone "the best." In March, I watched my favorite all-time reality TV star, Boston Rob, get blindsided and taken out of Survivor: Heroes vs. Villains before even making it to the jury. Then in April, I watched my favorite hockey team also get blindsided and knocked out of the playoffs, before even making it to Round 2. Both, in my eyes, were the best at their games, and both were outplayed by the underdog.

First, the Caps lost in the playoffs. Best team in the league, out after one series. President's Trophy winners, cleaning out their lockers way too soon. We worried about a future match-up against the Penguins or the Sharks, the teams with the best chance of beating the Caps, but instead, they were upset, as we know, by the #8 seed, the Montreal Canadians. As a Caps fan, it was shocking, and really hard to process. Not only would we miss them, and our hopes of a Cup in 2010 were crushed, but we wondered -- could we still claim that our team was the best, even though they were ousted so early? What did the regular season mean when the post season ended so abruptly? Were our star players Ovechkin, Backstrom, and Green really the best in the league, even without their names engraved on the Cup?

As I pondered these questions, I tried to lift my spirits by watching the Habs then take out the defending Stanley Cup Champs, the Pittsburgh Penguins. Another upset - the #8 seed has never back-to-back beat the President's Trophy winners and the defending champions. The win over the Pens made it easier for me to handle the fact that the Habs beat the Caps. Why? Because maybe they really were THAT good afterall. Maybe they deserve to hold the Cup up high. Or do they? Are they better than the other teams, even though their record during the regular season didn't show it? Are they a better team than the Caps, who were in first place basically all season? Sure, they beat them, but just because you're hot in the playoffs, are you truly better than the team that was hot all season? Is this just a quick winning streak? (The answer might be yes, considering the Habs got killed 6-0 last night against the Flyers - the #7 seed, by the way.)

Last night was the Survivor finale. It's no secret that I think Boston Rob is the best that's ever played the game of Survivor, even though he's never won it. And this time was no different. I felt a little better watching Russell, who took Rob out early this season, make some brilliant plays to knock off other strong players in the game. But last night Russell didn't win. Not even a defending champ (and incredibly strong player) Pavarti could repeat as Sole Survivor. Instead, Sandra won. Not unlike the Habs, she wasn't the biggest threat or the toughest competitor throughout the season, but in the end, she went head-to-head against Russell and Pavarti and was the one who pulled off the win. Sandra was never in a true alliance all season. She never won an individual challenge and was declared by her competitors as the weakest physical player. But, she stayed in the game and made it to the final three. And from there, she took home the million... for the second time. She is the only person in Survivor history to win the game twice. Rob and Russell have never won. Pavarti won once. Sandra has never been voted off the island, but she has also never won a challenge.

Because of her official record, is she the best? Or can the argument be made that Russell, Rob, and Pavarti are the best players to ever play the game, even though the three of them combined have won less than Sandra? Don't get me wrong - I am not upset that Sandra won (I'm still upset that Rob didn't - hard to get over it). I respect the game she plays. But a two-time winner? On paper, Sandra's the ultimate Survivor. But when you watch the game, and when you are a true fan of the game, you just KNOW that she's not the best who's ever played it. And you don't even have to agree with me that Rob is - you can argue that it's Russell or Pavarti, or Rupert, Ethan, even Johnny Fairplay. Just like not all hockey fans agree that the Caps were the best team in the league, and many can make a strong argument for the Sharks or the Blackhawks. But most outside of Montreal can agree that the Habs OVERALL aren't the best team of the season in the Eastern Conference (and, dare I say, the Flyers aren't either). Yes, they are winning, and who knows?, they could win it all, but does that mean they're the BEST to play the game in the 2009-10 season? I don't think so.

Last night, on the Survivor Reunion show, they talked about what makes you a winner - strategy and game play; physical ability; and a lot of luck. The same goes for sports. It's possible in any game to win it all without being the best. And this season, my idea of the best players didn't win it all, but I sure enjoyed watching them play the game.

Still in Mourning

It's Tuesday night, May 4, and I keep thinking "a week ago... I didn't know the Caps would lose... I thought we'd be watching the Caps beat the Flyers... I still had the Caps in my life! And now, they're gone."

It's totally pathetic, but I really, truly miss the Caps. Not just them, but I miss watching the games with Max. I miss getting excited about the games with Max. I miss talking about the game, the players, and the potential with Russ. I miss wearing my retro Caps tee that I got used to wearing every other day. I miss the excitement of watching our favorite team win, or at least come really close to winning. I miss talking to random strangers in the grocery store about how the Caps are definitely going to win it all. I even keep sports talk radio on longer than I should in the car, hoping for some Caps post mortem.

Everyone who knows me knows that I am a huge reality TV fan. When reality TV came along, I thought nothing could ever replace it, or grab my attention the way that it does. But honestly, this was better. Ovie became my Boston Rob - a game changer and a leader with great abs, a gold chain (which on any other guy is totally a turn off), and a cool accent. My heart raced more when I saw Caps goalie Jose Theodore than if I saw Chris Daughtry. This weekend when I ran in the Race for Hope downtown, I didn't even reach for my camera phone when David Cook went by, but just a few weeks ago I was taking paparazzi shots of Mike Green from across a dark parking garage. I wanted to be friends with the Caps wives and girlfriends more than the Housewives, or the PR girls People's Revolution. By the end of the season, I had stopped updating my status with discussions of Survivor, and only focused on the Caps.

It was reality at it's best, and it was on A LOT. In the summer, I am locked into the 3x/week schedule of Big Brother (Sunday, Tuesday, Thursday) and while it's a major commitment, I love it. That's how I felt about the Caps, but more so. I welcomed the commitment, especially during the play-offs. It was 2-3 hours of totally captivating television. And, unlike BB, I had someone (or someones, when Russ was home) along side of me that loved it just as much.

Not that there aren't some reality shows that Russ and I both absolutely love. We have always loved Survivor. We love to break it down and analyze the big playmakers. We have our favorites to root for, and we get bummed when Jeff puts out their torches. But the season lasts a few months on TV, once a week. The Caps got us hooked in October and kept us captivated during a regular season that lasted until mid-April, with games several times a week. We even got to go watch them play in person - none of us are invited to the Tocatins to actually sit in for a live immunity challenge - but we were there when Ovie scored a hat trick, in OT, to keep a 14-game winning streak alive.

Tonight, I am not watching Access Hollywood, but the Penguins/Habs game. The Habs beat my beloved Caps, and if you're good enough to beat them, you're good enough to win the Cup. I recognize a lot of their names after watching them play seven games straight, so I know who the big players are, and who might score a goal. I certainly know that Halak can save anything shot at him. Plus, I hate the Penguins. They won last year, the Caps beat them handily this season, and they are led by Ovie's arch nemesis, Sydney Crosby. Arguments are had by hockey fans everywhere about who is better, Crosby or Ovie (like Rob vs. Russell; Spencer vs. LC; Team Jill or Team Bethenny). Crosby won the Cup last year and won the Gold Medal this year. He needs to be upset, and the Habs can do it. But, the point is, I am watching teams that I don't root for, playing in a game that doesn't matter to the Caps. I am an addict, and a heartbroken one at that, who probably needs to just "get a hobby."

I miss the Caps. But, just like reality tv, there aren't reruns. There isn't even a Reunion special. But I do wish there was a 1-888 number where I could text or call to vote for my favorite to win. By the way, I turned off the game to watch Idol, and I think Casey James just might be facing the second biggest "collapse" of the month. What was that? Luckily, I wouldn't stalk him in a parking garage, Max doesn't root for him, and my heart won't ache when he's gone. Now, if only Ovie, Brooks Laich or Nick Backstrom could take the summer off from hockey and jump into the Big Brother house, I'd be one happy TV watcher.

A season to remember...

So this was the post that got it all started... I wrote this for my Facebook page on Thursday, April 29, 2010, the day after the "epic collapse" of our favorite team, the Washington Capitals, in Round 1 of the Stanley Cup play-offs. Everyone had been asking me how my 6-year-old son Max, a huge Caps fan, was dealing with the loss. He was dealing with it much better than his mom. Here's why:

I woke up this morning wondering if I had dreamt that the Caps had really been knocked out in Round 1. I wondered if maybe there was a chance the NHL had decided Ovie’s goal did in fact count, and that the game would be replayed. I hoped that there was still a glimmer of hope that the season wasn’t really over.

Did I want the Caps to win the Cup? Of course I did. Anyone who remotely calls themselves a Caps Fan wanted them to, and believed they could.

But the sinking feeling I have today is coming from somewhere else. Yes, I am extremely disappointed that I won’t see my favorite team hold the Stanley Cup over their heads this year. I am mad at them – angry that they didn’t live up to their potential. That they missed way too many shots, and gave up too many opportunities. That they didn’t capitalize on their Power Plays, didn’t rush the pads, that they allowed themselves to be beat by the #8 Seed, and that they cut our season way too short.

I am depressed today because the season is over, and this has been so much more than just a sports season to me. I am the mom of three boys, ages 4, 5, and 6. I am the wife of a sportscaster. Sports are big in our house, and always will be. I am happy about that – I was a college athlete, and have always enjoyed sports. I probably “get” sports more than the average woman. But this year, something different happened to me. I became a true, deep down fan. And so did my 6-year old son, Max. He got hooked on the Caps during last year’s playoff season (which lasted 7 more games than this one) and it inspired him to spend the summer learning how to skate, and then how to play ice hockey. He looked forward to the start of Caps season, and we attended an early practice, before the season officially began. Afterwards, we realized the players were walking out, in broad daylight, to their cars, and that we could grab an autograph. By the time we got there, most players had left, but we were lucky to catch Brooks Laich (whose name I didn’t know before that day) on his way out and Max got his Caps t-shirt signed by #21. He was hooked – it made him a bigger Caps fan, and very big Laich fan (Mom too). From there, we started watching all of the games. Max was allowed to stay up later than his little brothers to see how they ended (many with a thrilling comeback). Soon, all he wanted was a jersey, which he got for Christmas (Ovechkin, of course with the “A” on it, shortly before he became the “C”). Max started getting up before everyone else in the house every morning, and going down to the computer to check NHL scores from the night before and watch all the highlights. He became a Caps guru – knew every player’s name, number, and stats (even more so than Russ) and did his best to teach those to us. Also, one day while attending a Wizards game (a consolation prize when we couldn’t get Caps tickets), we were able to sit in the box with star forward Nicklas Backstrom. He was gracious and nice, signing anything and everything for the kids, and posing for numerous pictures with the boys. We still liked Laich, but we had just fallen in love with Backstrom.

When the blizzard (“Snow-vechkin”) hit this winter, I let Max go down to the game on Friday night, when the snow was falling hard, with friends who had an extra ticket. He met up with Russ there, and together they watched the game. I worried the whole night about their safety getting there and back, but I wasn’t going to not let Max go see the Caps. Two days later, our whole family drove down a mainly unplowed 270, crammed into the Metro at the Bethesda station with about 1,000 other Caps fans, and witnessed one of the most exciting sporting events I have ever seen when the Caps beat the Penguins. It had it all – comeback, hat trick, OT, 14-game winning streak... I was thrilled that this team was delivering everything Max wanted. If there was a season to become a die-hard fan, this was it (just to clarify, that is different than jumping on the bandwagon).

And so the regular season ended that way – President’s Trophy, records galore, and extremely high expectations. We attended a practice towards the end of the regular season, waited for autographs again, and Max was able to get a few more (my youngest son Will, who threw a crying tantrum, was able to get Ovie’s that day because of his tears, but that’s another story). I, myself, felt the adrenaline rush of waiting around, hoping key players would walk out the doors and stop to sign Max’s jersey. So, I took him back to Kettler a few days later, and based on a tip from another fan waiting outside, found a new waiting spot, in a more secluded area where I was sure we’d find more players (some could call this stalking). We did – Max was able to get about 12 autographs that day, and a lot of posed pictures with his Caps heroes. He was thrilled, and so was I. And so it continued – a few days later, I saw that the Caps were holding a Pep Rally before the playoffs started (I am fan of the Caps on Facebook, of course) and we decided to pull Max out of school so I could take him. For moms of boys, this, to me, was the equivalent of moms of girls who go for a mani/pedi with their daughters. This was my special day with my son, doing something we both loved. We had a blast cheering them on in practice, getting Caps spray-on tattoos, making signs, and waiting for autographs. A day I hope he’ll never forget. A day I know I never will.

Because of Russ’ job, he’s been working late during these last games, and I am the one home to watch the games with Max. We both would “rock the red” by wearing our Caps clothes (I bought two Caps shirts this season – not an ugly jersey, but cute Retro faded tees) and settle in for a long night in front of the TV. I hung signs in the windows of our house, slapped a big Caps magnet on my car, and posted numerous status updates about the Caps on FB. I read daily articles about the Caps and analyzed every play. For god’s sake, I even started listening to sports talk radio! And I watched Max, in his jersey, heading off to school each morning excited about his team, whether they had won or lost the night before. Before going to school for Game 7, he let me give him a red Mohawk, and write Caps phrases on his cheeks. It started becoming apparent, especially during games when I was a stressed out wreck, that I was now leading the brigade. That Max was a clear-headed, happy-go-lucky fan, and I was the fanatic. I was the one screaming at the TV, screaming at my younger kids who wouldn’t go to bed because Max was still up (“it’s not fair!! Max gets to stay up!!”), and sulking miserably after the losses. I woke up sad and in disbelief this morning, Max woke up ready for another day of 1st Grade. Yes, he’s bummed and disappointed, but he’s curious about the match-ups for Round 2 of the play-offs (I can’t even think about Round 2 without feeling sick) and he’s excited to go to Saturday’s DC United game (on to the next sport). He’s not angry at the Caps this morning. He still loves them as much as he did at 7pm last night. I am trying to feel the same way.

Max taught me this season the undying love of a sports team. He helped me see the players as individuals and not a group of guys led by a two-time MVP. He helped me see the game through the eyes of a 6-year old, with pure wonder and excitement. Hopefully he’ll teach me how to accept this loss and move on.

As a kid, my dad and I spent many, many weekends at Phillies game. I knew every player’s name, number, and position. Now, I can remember a few of their names – Mike Schmidt (#20, short stop), Pete Rose (#14, first base), and Steve Carlton (pitcher, don’t remember number), but I remember how we went early for batting practice, packed picnic baskets for double headers, and how I’d run laps around the top of the Vet, before Phanavision was there. They are great memories that I’ll always have. Someday Max might not remember Brooks Laich, or Mike Knuble, or even Nick Backstrom, but I hope he’ll remember skipping school to go to the Pep Rally with his mom, the Friday night game with his dad, the snowstorm trip to Verizon with the whole family, and the feeling of meeting his favorite players.
Soon enough, I’ll forget my anger and disappointment. I won’t think about missed opportunities and what could have been. I’ll only remember those moments with my family, with Max. Thank you Caps, for giving those to us, and for making us true fans. Can’t wait to do it all again next year.