Mitch Albom - Detroit Free Press
One last bullet came flying at Chris Osgood. It had kill all over it. He stopped it with his glove, pushed it away with his stick, and as the blue light swirled to mark the end of the game, he was flat on the ice. But not for long. The Red Wings were coming home. The Stanley Cup was coming with them. As they say in fairy tales, "All's Well That Ends Red."
Well, in Detroit fairy tales.
Got it. After six games. After six years. The Red Wings, knocked down in a gutting triple-overtime loss two days earlier, shook loose every demon that might have followed them to Pittsburgh and played the game they had to play on the night they had to play it, a humid night when the ice was tough and bodies were being knocked over like bowling pins. They flew high and they clamped down. They took a lead, and this time they held off the furious charge and a last-minute goal, they kept their heartbeat when everyone back home was losing theirs, fighting six skaters to their five, diving, blocking, using every last breath, enduring a final shot by Sidney Crosby that Osgood stopped with his glove, and pushed just far enough away to avoid a last-instant miracle by a charging Marian Hossa.
"We always have to make it interesting," Osgood would tell the TV cameras.
Interesting? That ending would have killed most mortal men. But here, in enemy territory, the Wings used the courage and the pounding heart that got them this far, and in their 104th game of the season, they took it over the mountaintop.
All's well that ends red.
Full Story
One last bullet came flying at Chris Osgood. It had kill all over it. He stopped it with his glove, pushed it away with his stick, and as the blue light swirled to mark the end of the game, he was flat on the ice. But not for long. The Red Wings were coming home. The Stanley Cup was coming with them. As they say in fairy tales, "All's Well That Ends Red."
Well, in Detroit fairy tales.
Got it. After six games. After six years. The Red Wings, knocked down in a gutting triple-overtime loss two days earlier, shook loose every demon that might have followed them to Pittsburgh and played the game they had to play on the night they had to play it, a humid night when the ice was tough and bodies were being knocked over like bowling pins. They flew high and they clamped down. They took a lead, and this time they held off the furious charge and a last-minute goal, they kept their heartbeat when everyone back home was losing theirs, fighting six skaters to their five, diving, blocking, using every last breath, enduring a final shot by Sidney Crosby that Osgood stopped with his glove, and pushed just far enough away to avoid a last-instant miracle by a charging Marian Hossa.
"We always have to make it interesting," Osgood would tell the TV cameras.
Interesting? That ending would have killed most mortal men. But here, in enemy territory, the Wings used the courage and the pounding heart that got them this far, and in their 104th game of the season, they took it over the mountaintop.
All's well that ends red.
Full Story
