It’s not bad enough that my husband and I have never seen the Leafs win the Stanley Cup. Neither of us had yet been born the last time they won.
But our boys? They have no recollection of the Leafs ever making the playoffs. The Playoffs! To them, the Leafs’ season has always ended in April.
It is to weep. Clearly hope dies last, because even last night, the four of us crawled into bed to watch last night’s game, clinging by the edges of our fingernails to the hope that, somehow, the stars might align, the Leafs might win, Buffalo might lose, and pigs might fly.
All of this, statistically and realistically impossible.
So Peter and I will hang our jerseys in the closet for another summer. I might, possibly, now that the Leafs are out, again, acquire a Canucks t-shirt. It’s not quite the same, but it will have to do. Maybe.
But the boys? They’re not defeated. Having never experienced a Leaf playoff game, they’ve yet to experience true disappointment . When told that tonight’s result meant the end of the Leafs’ season, they were only concerned with one big, pressing question:
“Is the Jays game still on?”