The Washington Capitals lost to the Montreal Canadiens last night in a seventh game in the first round of the Stanley Cup playoffs, which was totally unexpected when this series began and I’ll admit, as a Caps fan, is entirely upsetting. It’s happened three times now in three years, so in addition to upsetting it’s also getting a little old, sure.

However, this is hockey. This was my home team gone — I believe — entirely, stupidly wrong and a goalie on an opposing team who in the past week appeared to have been touched by the golden hand of the universe and gifted with the power to block all flying objects with the sheer force of his mind and fingers.

Seriously, did you watch Jaroslav Halak in net at all? Because all I could think of when I watched Halak was nothing, because I actually really couldn’t think. I was reduced to a distant buzzing in my brain, because what I was seeing was extraordinary. I had honestly paid next to no attention to him prior to last week, but holy hell. The man can stop lightning with his fingertips. He’s a goal-thwarting machine.

Unknown Caps player, Stanley Cup quarterfinals

I hope that he and the Habs win the Cup. I don’t think they will, but I now, perversely, hope that they do, not for any love for the team but because if you play that well at first in spite of being seeded much lower, and you beat my team in the process, I want you to up the ante.

I hated every minutes of this series, pretty much. I coughed up too much money to go to Game One, which they lost at home because they were disorganized and Montreal scrapped it out like they did every game. It was ugly and the Caps played erratically and boringly, which has quite honestly been the case since they came back from the Olympics break. Mike Green went to some weird, bad place. Ovi and Semin slumped. Mike Knuble cannot always be called upon to pull off a goal in the clutch, especially when there’s Halak voodoo involved.

When they came back in March, I was watching some random game they were losing and I said, “This is not Stanley Cup hockey.”

I don’t always like it when I’m right.

But the deal is, this is my team. And as people started sending in condolences and some trash talk in Tweets last night I actually started smiling. Because who I just am is a fan of the Washington Capitals in their best and worst configurations, so in the end, while this year I honestly did allow myself to entertain the possibility of going really far in the playoffs and maybe even pulling off a championship, it makes no nevermind. I’ve been going to Caps games since I was a little girl. For most of those years, they have been a losing team. They have never won a Stanley Cup. Three years ago now a guy named Bruce Boudreau came in to coach and a supposed superstar named Alex Ovechkin joined the roster. (And I’m not mad at Ovi, fairweather and/or bandwagon fans take note. He did a lot of what he was supposed to do over the past two weeks, but you can’t be much of an enforcer with a bullseye on your chest, either. I’ve done the math.)

So yeah, they got into rocking the red and unleashing the fury, and things got more exciting. And I will tell you that a home Capitals game is without question one of the best times you can have in this city with your clothes on. It is that much fun.

And rest assured, the year they win a Stanley Cup? I will lose my ever-loving mind. I will not be able to effectively work. I will hopefully be at more games during the playoffs than I am not. I will know it in my bones.

This time, I knew it wasn’t happening. The heart wasn’t there. Something was missing. While other teams like the Detroit Red Wings and the San Jose Sharks played cohesively, finding each other and organizing themselves in front of the net so someone was actually there when they needed someone to pass to or to block some other guy (and in cases like the Wings came back from game and series deficits to kick ass) the Caps played in a manner that suggested that they do not hang out. They might, but it doesn’t look like it.

Today is what it means – stupidly, crazily and utterly involuntarily – to be a fan. This is what I am and as much as I hate every time they lose, as much as I hate today, not for one minute am I sorry. They had a great season, won the President’s Trophy, which is no small thing, and someday they will take it all the way, I just know it.

To paraphrase a cliche from another sport that is nonetheless completely true: there is absolutely no crying in hockey.

[Top photo made available under Creative Commons from Clydeorama: http://www.flickr.com/photos/clydeorama/ / CC BY-NC 2.0]

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