I have this really really tattered Red Wings car flag. It's been with me since just after the '97 Cup-winning season. After the 2002 Cup-winning season, I bought a new car flag to succeed it. I'm as superstitious as the next hockey fan (maybe we get that from the players), so naturally I thought that my choice of when, where, and how I flew my new flag had something to do with the Wings' subsequent five-year Cup drought. This led me to perform a series of
superstitionsexperiments from one postseason to the next about when to fly it: I tried waiting until the playoffs (didn't help), then waiting until the second round of the playoffs (didn't help), then waiting until the conference finals (totally didn't help (I mean. Anaheim. Really?)). Eventually, I decided not to fly my car flag again at all until the Wings won the Stanley Cup.
Well, last weekend I got a little cocky. After the Wings stole game 4 in Pittsburgh, I figured that the Cup was in the bag, so... I. Flew. The. Flag.
Of course, you all know how Game 5 turned out.
So I was sitting at a red light on my way to work yesterday morning. It was a warm morning, so I opened my other windows a bit while I was waiting (my A/C conked several years ago). I'm an attentive driver, and I didn't want to waste one second of the upcoming green light, so I kept my eyes forward and opened the back two windows without looking. The light turned green and I took off.
Clunk. Thump. I checked the rearview, and of course there's my flag - no longer held in place by the closed window - sitting on the street. I was all ready to pull over and run back to get it, 8:00 meeting be damned, when it hit me: THE FACT THAT I FLEW THE FLAG PREMATURELY WAS WHY THE WINGS LOST GAME 5!
And now I'm flying my tattered old flag again, thanks to the Wings... and Marc-Andre Fleury's butt.