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.