It’s springtime. The Lightning are in the playoffs. And my stomach is aflutter. The three tend to be related.
It’s a combination of excitement and anticipation. With a side of trepidation. It’s not a constant feeling – rather, it makes its presence known as each postseason game approaches. It’s there now, as I write on Monday afternoon, a day before Game Three of the Lightning-Red Wings series.
But it goes away – it always goes away – closer to game-time. And there’s no trace of it when I’m calling a game. Never has been. Then, after each game ends, there’s a different sensation.