Two years ago, the St. Louis Blues were mere hours away from accomplishing what had long eluded them: a date with Lord Stanley.
Like a real date; none of this “long looks and short hugs” bullshit. They drank from it, ate from it, and celebrated the day like kings. For a summer, they were just that. I remember the night they won Game 7. The wife was out of town... like way out of town. She was on a cruise ship with her sisters, thousands of miles away from the promised land-which just happened to be a garden in Boston.