Playoffs?? Playoffs?!?!

Being a Washington Capitals fan can be difficult. Every postseason, save a blissful spring in 2018, suffered an ill-fated ending. Endings sometimes marked by bewilderment and genuine confusion. Often with anger and dismay. Always with bitter regret and cruel disappointment. This season, however, will likely be different. When this season began I thought there was little hope of Washington reaching the playoffs. Because they DID make it in the postseason bracket, despite losing their top two centers, despite having a rookie head coach, despite Alex Ovechkin looking cooked for two-thirds of the season, whatever happens this spring is gravy. This team, mediocre in almost every way, has already exceeded my expectations. If they could somehow further defy the odds
by knocking out the hated Rangers, well, that would just be a nice little cherry on top of the gravy.

I am under no real illusion that the Caps will win this series. The Rangers are superior across the board. They earned the President's Trophy for owning the best regular season record. New York has authored many of the springtime disappointments of the Ovechkin Era. To see them dismantle this Little Engine That Could and dump its scraps in the rail yard in four or five games would be unsurprising. However, Washington has a grit that could make this a series. A grit that, frankly, had it shown up in other years, might have propelled the Caps to more Cup wins over the last fifteen years. A grit that is one of many storylines of the series. Let's examine some others.

No Love for Laviolette: Rangers' Head Coach Peter Laviolette spent three disappointing seasons behind Washington's bench. His failure to win a playoff series was further marred by a seeming refusal to play young players unless absolutely forced to because of injury. That the young players injecting life into the lineup wasn't enough to keep them playing is an indictment of Lavi's stubbornness. I don't dislike him as much as some fans.  He got a raw deal with some Covid stuff. He also had a mandate to get a veteran team across the line. Ultimately, though, his tenure set back the franchise and wasted some of Ovechkin and Nick Backstrom's golden years. I'm sure some of the young guys, especially Connor McMichael, are eager to leave a steamer in Laviolette's postseason punch bowl.

Charlie Lindgren: Chuckie. The Outlaw. The Mustache.  Whatever you call him, he's the new number one goalie in town. Lindgren emerged as the antidote to Darcy Kuemper's poisonous porousness. Charlie bailed out a struggling team many nights this season, keeping them in games until they could scrape out a win. That Charlie Lindgren is 2-1-0 in 3 games with a goals against average of 1.35 and a save percentage of . 955 against the Rangers in his career is a bonus. After years of the Caps running into the hot goalie, maybe this is the year Washington turns the tables.

Washington's Aforementioned Mediocrity: The Caps are not what you would call a "good team." They are one of the worst teams to sneak in the playoffs in recent memory. It took luck and the stretch stumbling of a half dozen other teams for Washington to earn the second wild card spot. The Caps have wild mood swings, veering from winning close to losing big. This led to the worst goal differential (-36) of any playoff team since 1991. The offense, long a strength, abandoned ship for large stretches of the season. They struggled to build sustained pressure or generate quality scoring chances. This team takes fewer shots than a room full of Baptist Designated Drivers.  They will have to do better to upset the Rangers. The defensive core, tattered and talent-deficient, doesn't fare much better. More often matador than bull, the defense often hangs the goalies out to dry. The willingness of the team to play better team defense as a five man unit in front of Lindgren the last three games is what helped them sneak in the playoffs. Maybe they are finally clicking in Coach Spencer (Bald Jesus) Carbery's system. Maybe that will serve them well in this series.

From Young Guns to Ancient One: Captain Alex Ovechkin is the last of the Young Guns to remain in D.C. He looked lost early the season, maybe because fellow former young gun, Nick Backstrom, was away from the team. Ovechkin's scoring touch disappeared. His joy for the game seemed to wane. All that changed after an all-star break vacation in Dubai with his family. His scoring prowess returned after the break. It's easy to joke that a vacation camel ride flipped a switch, but if I were GM Brian MacClellan I would have a Dromedary rental service on speed dial just in case. Besides being the last Young (Now Old) Gun, Ovechkin is one of only four players remaining from the 2018 Cup win. Each will be instrumental in battling the Rangers. John Carlson, much maligned by me, has had a resurgent year. He is still too often the guy standing next to the guy scoring on his net. But he is a leader and continues to be an offensive force from the blue line. It has been fun to see him bounce back from his near tragic ear injury. Tom Wilson, defacto owner of the NYR,  needs to have a big series. After a subpar scoring season and stupid suspension, Caps fans would like to see Wilson continue his ascension to major team leader and likely future captain. That he'll likely have to tangle with Ranger skyscraper Matt Rempe makes the matchup all the more
enticing.  The last of the Core Four is the indomitable T.J. Oshie. Oshie routinely MacGyvers his body back together with duct tape and bubble gum. He is the gluiest of glue guys and I love him. He leads by word and deed and the Caps are a much better, more spirited team with Oshie in the lineup. They'll need him at his intangible best against the Rangers. If the heroes of 2018 deliver, the Caps can make it a series.

Today, Washington's playoff run begins. Whether it lasts four games, four weeks or four series (hey, I can dream), I'm all the way in. The Old Guns and the New Ones, primed for showtime on Broadway. Maybe they can stick one in Laviolette's ear. Maybe they can win one for Backy. If not, they have already given me an awesome gift with this roller coaster regular season. Let's drop the puck and Let's Go Caps!

The Road to Fifty

With my fiftieth birthday approaching later this fall, I have been thinking A LOT about getting older. Time is a twisty, funky thing, but milestone birthdays serve as way points that encourage some reflection. I've been pondering my health, wealth, relationships, career, parenting, and more.

I used to write a bunch. In the age of blogs, before Facebook, I posted often as a fun exercise to share news of our growing family and to simply get some thoughts out of my anxious, sometimes sideways mind. As I hurtle down the road to fifty, I plan to write again. To examine more closely some of the subjects I've been thinking about. If you enjoyed reading my stuff before, I hope you'll indulge me again. I'll cross post my stuff on my old blog. Yes, it still exists; nothing really goes away on the internet. I'll put the link in the comments.

Of course, one of the great treats of getting older is worrying about your health. Aging has sharpened my focus on health issues I should have dealt with long ago. Instead of treating my body like a temple, I have used it like a demolition derby car that crashed into the chocolate fountain in a Golden Corral. Now, on the precipice of being fifty years old, weighing in at my heaviest poundage ever, I know I have to fix some things. Things that should have changed when I got married. Or when I stopped playing ice hockey. Or when Grace was born. When I was prescribed blood pressure meds at age 35. When my dad dropped dead at age 59. When gout became a semi-annual companion. When we were told Covid might be worse for the obese. When the scale crossed 300 for the first time. Or a thousand other instances that should have been a wake up call.

Most of the annoying maladies that plague me -creaky lower back, persistent knee pain, sleep apnea- would ease, if not disappear, if I lost fifty pounds. One hundred, would be better,  but fifty would help immensely. It's so frustrating to know feeling crappy physically is mostly due to self-inflicted wounds. To know aches, pains, and worse, that we used to concede to "getting old" can be mitigated by staying physically fit. To know it really doesn't have to be this way.
So, why do I look and feel as bad as I do? Why does looking at my belly in the mirror remind me of that Jeff Goldblum quote from Jurassic Park? Because. I. Love. To. Eat.
I love healthy food. I love unhealthy food. I love the huge percentage of the American diet that is processed, factory-manufactured, food-type product food. And because I love it, I eat way too much of it. The irony is I love fruits and vegetables. I enjoy cooking. I like perusing the internet and cookbooks for tasty, healthy food. Yet, too often, the inconvenience (it's not really that inconvenient) of cooking a well-balanced meal loses out to food peddled by a clown or talking chihuahua. In a time when we have more information that we can possibly imagine at our fingertips, I routinely ignore it in favor of something, anything with extra cheese.

So that's what I'll be working on. I've been lifting weights again to protect the bones, have the bike out of the shed to strengthen the heart and lungs, and have been engaging in floorplay (read that again, you pervert) to work on mobility (a top-notch predictor of longevity and aging gracefully). Getting in the kitchen has to be the top priority. I'm putting the demolition derby car in the shop; I just hope it's not beyond repair.