Do you remember that feeling you had after game 5? Like you were invincible, and nothing could go wrong? You were so excited that you stayed up until three in the morning talking about how happy you were (yes, I'm looking at you Twitter).
Well I hope you do, because I don't. All my memories of that feeling were rushed out the door with the epic loss in game 6 and replaced with the sudden urge to puke up everything I've eaten in the last 2 days just thinking about game 7.
And now it's time for that puketastical game. It's do or die. Round 2 or golf. But this isn't the time to recite cliches, the time to make excuses, whine about soft goals or complain about defensive coverage or lack of scoring - this is the time to win. If the Wings come out flying they way we all know they can, there is not a single doubt in my mind that they will win the series. They CAN do it.
The question simply is will they?
Until this game starts, I will be attempting to keep my brain focused on the chronology of Roman emperors and not on Mike Babcock's hair. Partially to keep myself from puking. Partially so I don't fail my final.