Six months. One hundred eighty-five days. Eighty-two games. Two hundred fifty-seven goals. Seven hundred forty-eight penalty minutes. One thousand, seven hundred ninety-four hits. Nine hundred seventeen blocked shots. Forty-seven wins. One hundred and four points.
These are the numbers that got us to this point. Starting today, they mean nothing.
Today begins the hardest two months in sport. Today sixteen teams all set out with one goal in mind, and by mid-June, only one will remain. Today is a clean slate; a fresh start. Today, every awesome win; every crushing defeat; every shot blocked at the cost of personal safety; every goal; every save; every fight—will all be wiped clean.
The dance. The show. The second season.
Today marks the start of the 2011 Stanley Cup Playoffs.
This is a team engineered, over two decades, for one thing: winning championships. You say old; we say experienced. You say slow; we say patient. You say washed up; we say dark horse. The Detroit Red Wings were built for the playoffs, for withstanding the long haul, for defying expectation.
When the puck drops today on an unprecedented twentieth consecutive playoff run, the Red Wings will be ready. Adversity and personal struggle aside, this team was made to succeed, bred in an environment where failure is not only unacceptable, but simply not an option. Created to excel in a setting that has no patience—come out swinging, or be left behind.
Today the Detroit Red Wings are prepared to start the uphill climb to number twelve. It will be painful, and it will be difficult, but nothing worth winning comes easily. Today the Red Wings shift focus to one thing, and one thing only: being the last team standing.
This is it.
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