Growing up without cable, I didn't get to watch much hockey, so I kind of fell into following the Edmonton Oilers because they were the team I heard the most about, those being the Gretzky/Kurri/Anderson/Messier/Coffey/Fuhr days.
Being the better part of a continent away with little opportunity to see the team isn't exactly the recipe for long-term, passionate fandom, and I mostly follow the Bruins now, but I'll always want them to do well, and I was therefore excited when they made the Stanley Cup Finals in 2006, even though they lost to Carolina. (They also had the most awesome national anthem singer ever, slightly better than Mullet Guy in Vancouver. It starts about 1:18 in.)
And then Chris Pronger crapped all over it.
For years after that, I dubbed Oct. 9 "International Chris Pronger Must Die Day," although after the Gabrielle Giffords shooting, I decided to tone down my casual use of wanting-people-dead language, even in jest, plus I found out that his birthday is actually Oct. 10.
But I was always OK with him being injured (again, mostly in jest) ... or so I thought until I saw last night that he's going to be out for the rest of the season and the playoffs due to post-concussion syndrome. To declare in December that a guy will be out for the season that may not end until June, it must be bad.
And even though I obviously had nothing to do with it, I have to admit, I felt a little guilty.
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