El Pitcher

I told myself not to get my hopes up over Aroldis Chapman, the stud Cuban southpaw looking for a Major League Baseball home. Obviously, I didn’t take my own advice. Getting my hopes up is what I do; it’s how I live my life.

And then, as if on cue, it all comes crashing down.

According to an inside source, word has it, from The Beest himself, that the Jays have offered Chapman $15 million. And that’s as far as they’re willing to go.

Reports across the land have Chapman signing a deal at, or north of, $20 million, effectively ruling out our Toronto Blue Jays. My heart weeps.

Now, I’m praying to the baseball Gods that I’ve gone all Bob Elliott on you here, and that Chapman does indeed head north.

But I wouldn’t get my hopes up.

Is this goodbye?

There will be no game seven. And I'm all Carl Thomas-like emotional.  

Honestly, never would I have imagined that Roberto Luongo would allow seven goals in an elimination game. Not when his team scored five. My heart goes out to the Vancouver Canucks' captain. I would have cried after that performance, too.

Mats Sundin, my pride and joy; a goal and an assist. In keeping with the truthiness theme, he never looked right in a Canucks uniform. Mats looked a step behind; disinterested. But he still put up the points. Like he always did.

I won't lie, it was a rough night. I donned my Sundin jersey in the third period, hoping for some Mats magic. It came; he scored the fourth Vancouver goal. Foolish me, I thought it might end up being the winner. Not even close.

When it comes to Sundin, the Vancouver media and Canucks fans will be ruthless today, and in the coming days. So-called Leafs fans will take their shots at Mats as well. It's not going to be pleasant. I imagine I'll be drinking a lot of Forty Creek. 

Looking back, the way it all went down, there was never meant to be a happy ending. If last night was goodbye, regardless of the jersey, thanks for the memories, Mats ...

UPDATE: It's 5:30 AM, and I can't sleep. It's beginning to sink in: Sundin will never win the Stanley Cup. Fuck.

UPDATE #2: Eight points in eight games. One. More. Year. Come home, Mats ...