As I conjectured in yesterday's post, the hockey game (game seven of the Canucks versus the Golden Knights) was scheduled sufficiently early that evening (6 p.m.) that my younger brother never hustled home during the first or second period breaks to watch the remainder of the game as he had been doing with the previous six games of the playoffs series.
And so I was able to watch the entire game and get to bed before he was home from wherever he had gone to drink.
Actually, I think that he may have arrived home just after I had settled into bed ─ I believe that I retired at something like 9:08 p.m.
It was a sorely disappointing game.
The Canucks were Canada's last hope in these playoffs, but we weren't good enough. Not only that, but Canada has not won the Stanley Cup for 27 years (1993). And the Canucks have never won it in their 50-year history.
We lost that final game 3 - 0, but the second two goals were a consequence of the desperate manoeuvre of pulling our goalie in an effort to give us a one-man edge over the other team.
I wish that had not been done. I would rather we went down to defeat in the game with a 1 - 0 score as the case was probably going to have been. We had already proven that we were useless that evening where having a one-man advantage was concerned. Heck, we even had a five-minute penalty in our favour, yet with all that time to score, we only made one shot on the Vegas goal. During that time, they had made at least one shot on us, for Pete's sake!
So we had proven that we were unable to take advantage of having a man advantage ─ pulling our goalie in the final few minutes was an unrealistically desperate act in view of what the team had already achieved with any such advantage.
Heck, we were only in game seven because of our incredibly superior goal-tending, for we were badly out-shot in every game.
And the Golden Knight who knocked us off with that game-winning goal last night?
I'm too unhappy with him to care to name him. However, not only was he a Canadian, but he was a local boy ─ apparently born and raised in Aldergrove, although the likes of sources such as Wikipedia claim that Langley has that distinction.
So he probably grew up rooting for the Canucks as his home team, but money trumps loyalty ─ perfectly understandable, of course, where professional sports are concerned. After all, as much as we loved our valiant goalie Thatcher Demko who seemed practically invincible, he happened to be American, apparently born in San Diego.
Thatcher Demko had replaced our regular (and fabulous) Swedish goalie Jacob Markström in game five of the competition against the Golden Knights because Jacob had finally played himself out in keeping the Canucks alive in the playoffs.
I admit to only ever getting interested in hockey once the playoffs get underway, and only if there are Canadian teams involved. So when the Canucks are one of those teams, my interest elevates.
I used to also be a regular season fan back in the latter 1970s and through much of the 1980s, but by the 1990s employment eradicated that level of interest. I no longer had the free time. Even on a weekend, 9 p.m. was as late as I cared to still be up, for I was rising as early as 3 a.m. for my horrendous workday due to how remotely from home I had found myself employed.
By the time I was back home by 4:30 - 5 p.m. or even later, I quickly burned out and fell victim to overwhelming fatigue. If I did not tackle exercising immediately upon arriving home, it would fast become impossible soon thereafter.
Since retiring in early April 2011 and finally having the time to watch games, I no longer have the interest to be following regular season Canucks' games.
And now that there are no more Canadian teams in the playoffs, my interest in hockey has come to an end this year. I haven't the remotest curiosity over which American team is going to win the Cup.
I'm going to have my 71st birthday next month, so I was 20 years old in the Spring and Summer of 1970 when the Canucks were getting consolidated and preparing for their first NHL season. And it seems that their very first official game was two days prior to my 21st birthday.
I have come to accept that it is perfectly possible that I will die without ever seeing the Vancouver Canucks win a Stanley Cup.
Even though I only followed the Canucks this year once the playoffs began, I find that the playoffs run they had seems to be so very darned long. And to think that they could still have had two further series to play if they had won last night and somehow gone on to be one of the two teams to have made it to the actual Stanley Cup games is difficult for me to easily imagine.
What I can't imagine is following an entire season, trying to watch every one of their games. I just don't have the lifespan remaining to me to devote that amount of time to following hockey.
It's great for broadcasters and commentators who are paid for that sort of devotion, but I can't contribute that level of time and interest. I already feel as if I am watching my life trickle out.
Even though I do appreciate the excitement a Canucks' playoffs run can generate, what has never changed is that it has always come down to ultimate disappointment and sometimes even anguish when resurrected hopes are finally crushed for yet another year.
Whatever the wild triumphs that have been experienced in at least a couple of these playoffs runs, the story has always had the same ending ─ defeat by an apparently better foe.
So I will continue to remain nothing more than a Canadian team playoffs fan, and pay scant heed to the regular season. The time and the emotional investment are not worth it.
oooooooooooooo
My early retirement last evening ensured that I was able to rise early in the a.m. to put work into the post I am so very slowly constructing at one of my six hosted websites. I was up ahead of 2 a.m., and I think that I must have returned to bed around 5 a.m. or soon thereafter.
I probably should have gotten in a walk, but I can't seem to motivate myself unless I have some pressing grocery shopping that needs doing.
Even so, I did nurture thoughts of perhaps trying to visit the government liquor store around two miles from here to stock up on a flat of 24 cans of the strong (8% alcohol) beer I try to keep on hand. I even decided to get up around 8 a.m. to see if I had the trip in me, for the liquor store currently opens at 9:30 a.m. (except Sundays and holidays).
Unfortunately, my brother chose to rise around then too. I find myself too inhibited to make any kind of shopping expeditions when anyone is going to be privy to my affairs ─ I think there is too much stigma involved, for I likely feel ashamed that I have to walk all the time because I do not drive.
So with my brother also up, I was unable to ready myself in the vital privacy I require. This readying tends to be rather involved, since I do not often leave home to go anywhere and thus I feel considerable self-consciousness about being out in the public.
My brother and I were both to return to our bedrooms a couple or so hours later ─ maybe around 10 a.m.; and I rose anew to find him gone for the afternoon. But by then, it was too late into my day ─ I abhor being out in the public once the day is busy.
I couldn't even sun ─ the morning was overcast. The afternoon was to pick up, but I just never felt like bothering. I've instead done some exercising, and I have of course worked on this blog post and also one in my private blog.
As well, other online matters each requiring research have consumed my afternoon.
I want to mention an E-mail I received last night from my older half-sister at exactly 2:07 a.m. ─ she sent it to both me and another chap, titling it simply "email". Note that she has a Gmail account:
help I have lost my incoming emails. Inbo doesn't workWell, I didn't really understand what she was asking, so I responded to have her let me know if she meant that either everything in her Inbox had disappeared, or if she meant that her Inbox itself was gone? After all, how can it simply not "work"?
Any suggestions?
Also, just what might it mean that "I have lost my incoming emails"? Those are the only ones that a person has ─ I can't imagine that she would be fretting over what might have suddenly gone missing in her Sent, Drafts, or Trash folders.
Anyway, as yet, she has not bothered to reply back. It might be as simple as her having intended to delete one or two E-mails in her Inbox, but accidentally choosing the option to select and then delete everything.
Unless she also selected and deleted everything from her Trash folder, then the contents are supposed to remain there for 30 days.
Sometimes I find that she can come across as being exceptionally dense.
Earlier I mentioned that I will have my 71st birthday next month, so right now I'm still a mere 70 years old. Just this late afternoon I recorded the following bit of video of myself:
I know that I could use a lot of work by way of improvements, but I have never worked out in a gym in my life, nor do I have any fancy equipment here at home. I wish I did!
The time right now is approaching 6:45 p.m. ─ I want to watch a little T.V. and have some supper on the chance that my brother won't make it home before the 8:30 p.m. unspoken deadline that I have for him. If he is even one minute later than that, I will be all set to hie myself on up to my bedroom and have an early evening, for I want to rise early again overnight.
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