The Washington Capitals are closing out the regular season against the Tampa Bay Lightning. In Tampa Bay. Jesus H. Christ, if there wasn’t a more “Who gives a damn?” way to close out this dumpster fire of a season, I couldn’t tell you.
“But, Bourbon Caps, there were a lot of positives that came out of this year.”
Yeah, like me maturing to a place of not slapping you in your mouth right this instant.
If you still have a sunny disposition after the Caps fall ass backwards out of the playoffs when several teams that were supposedly a lock to make it free-falled (*cough* TORONTO! *cough*) then you need to jump off a freakin’ cliff.
If you’re still smiling when Washington, who has the league-leading goal-scorer, is out of the playoffs with three games to go, then you also need to jump off a freakin’ cliff.
And if your glass is half-full when you realize we have not one, but two, playoff-caliber goalies, Nicklas Backstrom who has been collecting assists since he was in the womb, and Troy Brouwer who completes the best three-piece offense in the NHL, then you need to jump off two freakin’ cliffs.
Screw your optimism. Screw your hope. This is a team that took a dump in its own bed. Yeah, our defense sucks. But so does Detroit’s. Chicago’s not that great either. And yet we’re the ones with mounds of poop under our sheets.
We’re closing out the season at Tampa Bay, and if playing your last game on Palm Sunday ain’t the most fitting thing for Adam Oates, I don’t know what is. Dude is gonna get crucified this week.
How do we beat the Lightning? Who cares? They’re in the playoffs, we’re not, and nothing we do today can change that. We could beat them 10-0, lose 10-0… absolutely nothing changes. We’re riding a four-game winning streak and we still can’t make it to the playoffs.
Go outside today. It’s beautiful in D.C. this time of year. The cherry blossoms are coming back in and the ducks are coming back for your bread crumbs. Ride a bike, read a book, paint a picture, drink crappy beer in a public park… whatever! Just don’t waste two hours of a beautiful Sunday afternoon on a team that’s been lame-ducking it since March.