There are three possible reasons why I didn’t write anything before now about the Lightning winning the Stanley Cup.

1. I just didn’t feel like it.
2. I was waiting for the emotions of the moment to ebb, in order to present a well reasoned and balanced accounting of the events.
3. I just woke up from a month long coma.

If I thought about it a little longer, I could probably come up with a whole slew of reasons why I might not have written anything yet, but why push my luck with an over-taxed mind?

—

“Bless me father for I have sinned. It has been 32 years and I’ve never gone to confession. The reason I have not written about the Lightning before now, well, I just didn’t feel like it.”

“Do you know the act of contrition, son?”

“No.”

“Just as well, it wouldn’t be enough anyway.”

—

In my defense, there are just some things that I can’t capture in writing. I haven’t written about the day my only child was born, nor have I written much about the day I was married. The Tampa Bay Lightning, Stanley Cup Champions, just seemed too ridiculous, too unlikely, so perfect; I just don’t know how to begin to write about it.

No, I’m not quite that shallow; the Stanley Cup is not as big as seeing my child born. However, it was a singular moment, unique unto itself. Memories of Vinny scoring in the last moments to quiet the fans in Montreal, of Brad all but putting them away with a ricochet of the goalie’s skate in OT, of the whole team pushing back against the Flyers, of Fedotenko finding a scoring touch, of players too tired for emotion after game six in Calgary, of the Wall sliding to cover both sides of the goal in the span of a single moment to preserve the last win, of the final countdown before the last game was over, they all put a smile on my face.