It's all about a cup of one kind or another.

I was in Detroit recently, cruising the various bookstores (and if you're EVER in Detroit, don't miss John K Kings Books on Lafayette Blvd downtown. It's the Holy Land of bookstores, I guarantee) and such, and I came across a little kiosk selling various and sundry Detroit sports teams paraphernalia. You know the kind; you can get a game worn Gordie Howe jersey, or a set of original seats from Tiger Stadium. That kind of thing.

Well, all I really wanted was a Tigers coffee mug; I have a Red Wings, and a Lions mug. The Pistons can kiss my ass, truly; until the NBA starts actually playing BASKETBALL, and not some handsy-push-off, four-steps-to-the-basket-is-legal schoolyard CRAP, I want nothing to do with them.

Wow. Sorry about that.

I really just wanted a coffee mug. But then, this thing caught my eye.
It was about eighteen inches tall, silvery.
A Stanley Cup replica.
Angels sang. I recorded them on my cel phone, if you're interested in hearing; but be warned: they sound like Motown.

I really wanted that Stanley Cup; it was reasonably priced, and I could drink coffee out of it, although it would not be as fulfilling as drinking my Folgers out of a Tigers mug. But then something happened.

I worried about the jinx.

I was worried that if I bought the Stanley Cup, the Wings wouldn't win it.

Now, before you think that's crazy (and it's a legitimate thought), be aware that I spent a decade growing up with a hockey team that couldn't make the playoffs if the rest of the NHL was in a huge plane that went into the Triangle. And now, after so many disappointments, so many near misses (the aforementioned Pistons, who couldn't get it done six out of seven years in a row, or the Tigers that laid down and died against the Cardinals a few years back, and DON'T GET ME STARTED ON THE LIONS), you begin to think that the very next game will be the one that breaks your heart.

Game five was great.
Game six broke my heart.
And tomorrow. Game seven.
All the marbles in sixty minutes.

Well, I found my mug.
And I didn't buy the Cup replica.
And the Tiger Stadium seats were $5000.

Let the Octopi Fly, my friends.

Oh, and by the way......coffee tastes infinitely better in a Tiger mug, especially when they're four games up.