I was going to write about Jason Pominville.
Really, I was. I rarely talk about Pominville because, honestly, there’s not much to talk about. Something happened on Tuesday to change that, though, and I was finally ready to discuss this season and the way he’s kept this team alive at times.
But the moment was special for another reason beyond the importance of the goal and the way it was scored. Usually, when Pominville scores, he points at the player who made the primary assist and maybe pumps his fist once. I’m not familiar with seeing Pominville raise his arms and curl away from teammates after scoring a goal.
It was strange to see Pominville stand straight and own the center stage. It was his moment and everyone would know it. There was no outward emotion, only a new captain soaking in a massive triumph.
I really don’t have anything to add. I think he nailed it. Pominville’s goal, far from truly spectacular, should have a special significance to this team in this stretch run. It was something special, something we may not truly understand for some time. After the points race and ROW and all that no longer matters.
It feels like this season has taken forever. Forget fortnights, it feels like Buffalo first played in Europe decades ago. November 12, 2011 sits years and years in the past. We’ve all birthed children and watched famous comets sail through the sky since we last worried about injuries on the blue line or Ryan Miller’s concussion.
Our terrestrial bodies, now bones in the ground, worried about Gaustad fighting Lucic, never getting the chance to mull over Alexander Sulzer’s
rugged good looks surprising consistency on the back end. We are spirit animals and nothing more.
What the Sabres are attempting, what they are now in control of, still feels ridiculously unlikely. Yet there it is. The proverbial clunk on the head from a falling coconut. Another chance to compliment the pretty girl you married, just to take her on vacation one more time.
After months of meandering, this feels like something new. Something different, at least, and different is a something I’ll gladly embrace. It feels like a different kind of awful that the first 50+ games of the regular season was. And that’s exciting in a weird way.
So that’s where I am. I still believe every word of what I wrote just a week ago, but with two important games this weekend I’m ready to see the Sabres take care of business and dive right into the postseason. No matter what happens it will be different, and different — after all this — is very good.
Time to put that swimsuit on.