I'm alive.

Don't worry. I'm alive.

...if "alive" is code for trudging around, huffing and puffing, and using every ounce of my will power to avoid complete meltdowns.

If you don't already know, my beloved Pittsburgh Penguins were eliminated by their biggest rivals, the Philadelphia Flyers, in Game 6 on Sunday. This is the third consecutive early playoff exit for my team since they won the Stanley Cup in 2009. This year, however, the loss was particularly heart-wrenching. With a completely healthy and stacked lineup for the first time in two years, they were widely favored as the Cup winner.

It's not so much that they lost that kills me. It's how they lost. It evades accurate description. My best explanation includes some combination of special teams disaster, shaky goaltending, humiliating defense, and a failure to adjust the gameplan. Even after fighting back in Games 4 and 5, the uphill battle was just too steep.

This healthy, talented, and motivated team imploded on national television and they took me with them. After their elimination, I went straight to my bed, where I stayed for 21 consecutive hours. No food, no bathroom breaks, no light. Just the horrific images of Malkin slashing his stick on the boards in frustration, Claude Giroux running over Sidney Crosby and scoring a goal in the game's opening minute, and their pained faces, complete with barely-visible playoff beards, during the handshake line. Some images cannot be unseen.

This will haunt me for life. I've been on edge since Sunday. The tiniest things set me off. Ellen didn't record for some reason? Look out. A local ice cream shop didn't have the kind of soft serve I wanted? It quickly became my own personal Vietnam.

So, I apologize for my lack of attention/effort here. I've been trying to channel my tears frustration into a box of GRE vocabulary words, but more often than not, I find myself sobbing into my body pillow and incoherently mumbling something that includes the words "Geno," "Russia," and "too far away."



October cannot come soon enough.

Keep the HOPE alive.

I had full intentions of blogging about every Penguins/Flyers game. I wanted to share the roller coaster ride of the Stanley Cup playoffs with you. I wanted to keep you updated, despite your non-interest, on the progress of the widely-favored Penguins on their quest for the Cup.

Then, my worst nightmares came true. Every single one of them.

Game 1: After shooting out to a 3-0 lead in the first period, the wheels just fell off the train. The Pens' defense disappeared and sloppy puck management led to turnovers and odd-man breakaways. The Flyers and their unbelievable resilience fought back to tie the game in the 3rd period and eventually win it in overtime.

I was so upset that the Pens couldn't hold onto a 3-goal lead that I refused to blog about it.

Game 2: Confidence was shot. Despite another 2-goal lead in the first period, the Pens absolutely fell apart. More horrible decisions with the puck, no defense, and an atrocious penalty kill and powerplay gave the Flyers the 8-5 win. Their eight goals included two hat tricks and goals from former Penguins Max Talbot and Jaromir Jagr. Worst case scenario.

I was baffled. Although I'd been well-aware of defensive problems during the last couple weeks of the regular season, I was shocked. The Pens had such an incredible regular season. How could everything fall apart just in time for the playoffs?

Game 3: Chernobyl-like meltdown. No lead was safe. No confidence in the defense, the penalty kill, the defensive play of the forwards, the powerplay, or the goaltending. This was the first game in Philadelphia. All hell broke loose. The Penguins lost their collective mind, resulting in humiliating fights and cheap shots that even I won't blindly defend.

My team, the one who prides itself on being fair, talented, and classy, stooped to the level of the Flyers. All the fighting and mistakes resulted in an 8-4 loss, three suspensions (James Neal (1 game), Craig Adams (1 game), and Arron Asham (4 games)), and an injured defenseman (Paul Martin).



If it hadn't already, the series seemed over. With my infinite tears and bruised hands, I hunkered down for the 4-game sweep.

Then, tonight happened. With their backs against the wall, my Penguins showed up with a do-or-die attitude and put together their first impressive 60-minute effort of the post-season. They restored some of the dignity they'd lost in the previous three games. With a hat trick from Jordan Staal, two goals from Geno, and vastly improved goaltending, the Pens rolled over the Flyers with an impressive 10-3 victory.

Just when I finished my last will and testament, just when I sauntered out back to be put out of my misery, just when I had abandoned all hope and wished for a quick, painless loss, they made me watch.

So, what do I do? Only 3 teams have ever come back from being down 0-3 in a best of seven series. History is not in the Penguins' favor. I can't handle the heartbreak of getting my hopes up, only to have them dashed on Friday. But, if there's one team in the league that could do it, it's the Penguins.

Pens could still win this in seven. So, put on your rally caps. Hold hands. Say a prayer. Do whatever it is you do because I'm not ready for baseball season yet.

...and for those of you who think baseball players have the "best butts," I suggest you check out the backside of one Mr. Crosby, the captain of the Penguins...



...and the master and commander of my fantasies.

In an effort to lighten the mood...

Things are getting really tense in my mind right now.

The Pens play in exactly 14 hours and 14 minutes. The nausea is setting in, my palms are getting sweaty. I wish I was kidding. So, in order to keep things in perspective and lighten the mood a bit, I thought I'd share a little philosophy with you.

Unfortunately, this philosophy is coming straight from the bizarre mouth of the Flyers' starting goaltender, Ilya Bryzgalov. Enjoy. No, seriously - watch this.



Unlike the rest of the Pens' fanbase, the league, the mainstream media, and the hu-MON-gous big universe, I'm not at all confident that the Pens will advance from this round. The defense has looked sloppy for a month now and the team is under a lot of pressure to perform well. The Flyers have consistently outplayed them all season and, even if the Pens DO advance, they will be limping away from this wreck.

I cannot be expected to handle this well.

So, if the Pens are faced with an early summer of unlimited golf and what-ifs, I'll need someone to remind me that my problems here on the Earth are nothing.

...I just won't want to hear it from Bryzgalov.

LET'S GO, PENS!

Keep the Prayer Circle Going!

It happened. I screamed. My mom cried.

Evgeni Malkin scored his 50th goal of the season, a career high in goals and the perfect cherry on top of his league-leading 109 points, in the Pens' 4-2 win over the Flyers.



Yes, America. His shirt does say, "Everyday I'm shuffling."

The playoffs start on Wednesday. It is going to be a brutal, bloody, violent, stressful, ulcer-inducing series against the cross-state rivals, the Philadelphia Flyers.

So, join me in my prayer circle. Start making deals with the devil. Whether it's shooting stars, deep wells, 11:11, or blowing dandelions, make some wishes. Stop washing your lucky clothes. Do whatever it is you do for good luck.

...because if my boys get knocked out of the playoffs in the first round again, I'm going to need quite the support group. Then, much to your appreciation, my blog will take a summer-long hockey sabbatical.



Happy Easter/Passover from the Geno/Sid Penguin eggs!

Moving to Russia. BBL.

I realize three things: 1. I'm a horrible blogger. 2. My blog has inadvertantly become an adult version of a "baby book" for Evgeni Malkin. 3. I need an intervention. Someone set it up.

Despite these realizations, I still feel the need to BRAG incessantly about Evgeni Malkin - yet again. Sorry I'm not sorry.

Geno leads the league in points with a hefty 107. Tonight, he scored his 49th goal of the season (a career high in goals). The Penguins have one game left, Saturday against their first-round playoff opponent (and biggest rivalry), the Philadelphia Flyers. Geno proclaimed a couple weeks ago that 50 goals was his "dream." So, I will be rooting like a maniac, setting up prayer circles, making animal sacrifices, etc. for this to happen on Saturday.



Tonight, Malkin was also named Team MVP and won the A.T. Caggiano Memorial Booster Club Cup (for most stars awarded at home games) and the Edward J. DeBartolo "Community Service" award (for his work in the community and on charity projects).



Oh. What's that you say? This Russian is a perfect human being? Yes. Yes, he is.

I've even created a Geno drinking game that I play by myself. Whenever I feel the urge to tear off his clothes, I take a sip of water.



I've had to pee all night.

Swimming Extravaganza.

I belong to a small fraction of the country who actually follows swimming in non-Olympic years. I count down for Nationals and Worlds, I Youtube clips from the Grand Prix series, and I follow more swimmers on Twitter than hockey players.

Of course, Michael Phelps is my favorite swimmer of all-time, but I also love Nathan Adrian, Ryan Lochte, Missy Franklin, and Dara Torres. After months of subtle hints and even some flat-out begging, I realized that getting tickets for London 2012 was pretty unrealistic.

So, I convinced my mom to go to Indianapolis with me on Friday for the Grand Prix held at the Natatorium at IUPUI. It. Was. Amazing. Honestly, it was a dream come true to see Michael Phelps swim in person.

We showed up a little early to get good seats and, while we were sitting there, we spotted Ryan Lochte, listening to music and hanging out around the pool. Luckily, his shirt was on and we didn't deem him completely unapproachable. My mom shouted out to him and got him to sign our heat sheet!



The first men's championship final of the night was the 400m IM and Mr. Phelps himself was competing in it. It was surreal to see him on the starting blocks, stretching and flapping his arms like he always does. He barely won his race with a nail-biting finish time of 4:12.51. Tyler Clary took a very close second with a time of 4:13.01. The Natatorium went absolutely crazy for him.







Ryan Lochte competed in the 200m backstroke, but he came in a surprising fourth place. He must be tapering before the Olympics. He did, however, keep everyone entertained when he came out wearing a shirt that said 'Weirdo,' a blue sock, a bright green sock, and Chucks. He was also the only swimmer to compete in a Speedo. Hilarious.



I got to see a ton of other national swimmers and Olympians, including Missy Franklin (who won the 200m backstroke), Dara Torres, Cullen Jones, Peter Vanderkaay, Katie Hoff, Dana Vollmer, and Caitlin Leverenz. My favorite race, however, was the men's 50m freestyle. Why? Former slice of Man Meat and the only honoree to ever respond, Nathan Adrian.



While competing in the 100m freestyle the night before, Nathan's swimsuit ripped on the starting block. So, his (probably perfect) behind was exposed during the entire race. Despite the slight disadvantage, he won the race, beating even Michael Phelps with a time of 48.62 seconds. So, after cursing the gods for having me miss that incident by ONE night, I got my camera ready and taped his 50m race.



He won with a killer finish and a time of 21.88 seconds.

I seriously can't wait for the Olympics. Only 117 more days!

...and, in the meantime, I got myself my own little swimmer.




Actually, my sister bought him while on spring break in Florida and named him Jalapeño. She gave him to me because I love turtles. He is a baby yellow-bellied slider. He is only about an inch right now, but he will get much bigger and could live over 40 years! He's pretty shy right now, but I love watching him swim around.