The Swedish word is "transportssträcka" - divided into two separate words; transport and sträcka. Transport means transport as in English. Sträcka is path/length/distance. What it really means is that the travel isn't really the meaning of the whole thing, it's just a means to an end. It's usually like the "road to work" or "the last hours before the anticipated event". No enjoyment per se but rather just passing time...
The last thing is what the word means to me today. Today the whole day will be waiting for the time to turn 6 pm central time when GAME 7 starts!
Bruins vs Leafs, at TD Garden. No one thought it would go to game 7. And even if it doesn't end the way I want it (LEAFS) I will be SO happy that they gave Bruins this much trouble :)
Let's get on with all these hours to pass now (hopefully productively too)!!
Monday, May 13, 2013
Thursday, May 02, 2013
heart in the throat
That's what we call it (in Swedish, "we" being the Swedes). Having the "heart in the throat" when things are scary, you feel like you can't breathe but you are also possibly excited going out on a limb.... in short, you are pumping with adrenaline and anything can happen.
Some people think this is silly. I couldn't agree more. Then again, I'm stuck in front of the telly with my heart in my throat, my hands clammy.... my brain is telling me "that this is useless and hopeless". My heart on the other hand is doing what it does too well, "telling me that this might work out and isn't it lovely and oohhhh..... look at those shots". And hoping. Always hoping that maybe this time it will work, it will be different, only this time.
Of course I am talking about Stanley Cup playoffs. Hockey. The sometimes violent sport where grown people chase a black plastic thing on ice. The ecstasy of 20*3 minutes where nothing is done until the ref calls it a night.
I had such high hopes and dream about the playoffs this time. You see, my team (my first true NHL love) is in the play offs for the first time in 9 years. Let's not talk about how long it was since the Cup was theirs. OK. That was in 1967. Anyway, I can't even begin to tell you what I was like when this happened last time (play offs that is, the cup time is easy, I wasn't even born when that happened last. Yes. That long ago. It's the longest "draught" in the NHL. Something we're winning at....) It was an era long gone. It was the pre-PhDthesis, pre-marriage, pre-devorce, pre-movefromhomecountry, pre-postdoc, pre-alotofthings.... In short, it was the glorious days of "everything is possible and the world is your oyster".
I fell back into that Sunday this week. Sunday was the start of two glorious days where I managed to talk myself into that "surely this time it will be different". "This time maybe the hype of being in the play offs for the first time in almost a decade would carry the time to a magnificent win in Boston- of all places- and make the Leafs being victorious and all the fans giddy with joy and happiness. And the giddy kicked up a notch when the first game started, GOAL after 2 minutes of play time. And for 12 minutes I was kept on this high - my heart was pounding in my throat but my mind was trying to tell the story that "this won't last, don't get too disappointed". Needless to say, the real pounding started shortly after halftime of first period and it didn't stop until the ref called it a game over.
The good thing about love? And hope? And dreams?
That the brain has nothing to with it*. Only the heart talks and right now my heart is telling me to still believe, still hope and still dream. There are at least 3 more games left to play (rounds in play offs are 7 so 4 winning is the minimum to win the series) and after the first 2 the games more to "home turf". Technically that is giving more odds to win so I will keep that glowing hope and wearing the T-shirt and the heart in the throat. (Whom am I kidding? I wouldn't be able to turn this off even if I tried. It's like telling a dumped part in a relationship that it's useless hoping to be asked back into the house and the prince will never marry you and give you half the kingdom but surely if he just met you for one drink that would all happen.... yeah... exactly like that.)
Needless to say, the next three games will be similar to torture, watching a car wreck, what have you. I will watch and love every second of it since until the scores say 4- in games, there is ALWAYS hope. And this year, this magic year after a long wait, maybe the little brother-cousin will raise to the occasion and spring a surprise on the rude, brutal, mean machine in the east. (That's Boston Bruins to the rest of y'all.)
After all, what is the play offs if not a big goodie bag of hopes, dreams and a lot of great played hockey?! :)
*let's not get into the conversation why it's so stupid that brain has nothing to do with love. Not today. Let's save that for a rainy day.
Some people think this is silly. I couldn't agree more. Then again, I'm stuck in front of the telly with my heart in my throat, my hands clammy.... my brain is telling me "that this is useless and hopeless". My heart on the other hand is doing what it does too well, "telling me that this might work out and isn't it lovely and oohhhh..... look at those shots". And hoping. Always hoping that maybe this time it will work, it will be different, only this time.
Of course I am talking about Stanley Cup playoffs. Hockey. The sometimes violent sport where grown people chase a black plastic thing on ice. The ecstasy of 20*3 minutes where nothing is done until the ref calls it a night.
I had such high hopes and dream about the playoffs this time. You see, my team (my first true NHL love) is in the play offs for the first time in 9 years. Let's not talk about how long it was since the Cup was theirs. OK. That was in 1967. Anyway, I can't even begin to tell you what I was like when this happened last time (play offs that is, the cup time is easy, I wasn't even born when that happened last. Yes. That long ago. It's the longest "draught" in the NHL. Something we're winning at....) It was an era long gone. It was the pre-PhDthesis, pre-marriage, pre-devorce, pre-movefromhomecountry, pre-postdoc, pre-alotofthings.... In short, it was the glorious days of "everything is possible and the world is your oyster".
I fell back into that Sunday this week. Sunday was the start of two glorious days where I managed to talk myself into that "surely this time it will be different". "This time maybe the hype of being in the play offs for the first time in almost a decade would carry the time to a magnificent win in Boston- of all places- and make the Leafs being victorious and all the fans giddy with joy and happiness. And the giddy kicked up a notch when the first game started, GOAL after 2 minutes of play time. And for 12 minutes I was kept on this high - my heart was pounding in my throat but my mind was trying to tell the story that "this won't last, don't get too disappointed". Needless to say, the real pounding started shortly after halftime of first period and it didn't stop until the ref called it a game over.
The good thing about love? And hope? And dreams?
That the brain has nothing to with it*. Only the heart talks and right now my heart is telling me to still believe, still hope and still dream. There are at least 3 more games left to play (rounds in play offs are 7 so 4 winning is the minimum to win the series) and after the first 2 the games more to "home turf". Technically that is giving more odds to win so I will keep that glowing hope and wearing the T-shirt and the heart in the throat. (Whom am I kidding? I wouldn't be able to turn this off even if I tried. It's like telling a dumped part in a relationship that it's useless hoping to be asked back into the house and the prince will never marry you and give you half the kingdom but surely if he just met you for one drink that would all happen.... yeah... exactly like that.)
Needless to say, the next three games will be similar to torture, watching a car wreck, what have you. I will watch and love every second of it since until the scores say 4- in games, there is ALWAYS hope. And this year, this magic year after a long wait, maybe the little brother-cousin will raise to the occasion and spring a surprise on the rude, brutal, mean machine in the east. (That's Boston Bruins to the rest of y'all.)
After all, what is the play offs if not a big goodie bag of hopes, dreams and a lot of great played hockey?! :)
*let's not get into the conversation why it's so stupid that brain has nothing to do with love. Not today. Let's save that for a rainy day.
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