Springtime Depression: An Ode to Rangers Fans

If you truly are a fan of the New York Rangers you live a life not only full of the normal New York fan misery that comes with never winning, but lately with the fascinating extra painful type of misery that only comes with championship expectations year in and year out. And for all those doomed to see it I'd like to take a look ahead at the impending disaster that we are all gonna be subjected to in the coming months.

The Rangers are once again looking like they're poised for an early exit from the playoffs despite having one of their most successful regular seasons in franchise history. It's not wrong to say they've been seriously contending since 2011, so if you've been there in past years you can see right through it this time. Hank's beat up, Raanta's a good guy but he moves pipe to pipe like his crease is made of sand and not ice, and we are lacking an offensive stud who can takeover a game like Crosby or Ovi (although JT and Hayes are on their way). Also aside from Mac, someone makes a bonehead defensive lapse once every 5 minutes.

The worst part about this, is that we still are going to make the playoffs in the wildcard spot, somehow beat up on Montreal or whoever in the first round, and idiots like me will forget I ever doubted us. Instead we'll drink an abundance of twisted teas and celebrate like it's the road to the cup in 2014. Hank is gonna stand on his head with highlight reel stops, Nash & co. are gonna fill the net with the ease they did in the fall, and even the human turnover Dan Girardi will look like some invincible force. We'll probably go on to then draw a Boston or Ottawa in the second round and grind out a badass 7 game series and be hyped about it. The Rangers will Instagram that little puzzle of the Stanley Cup with only a few pieces left and I'll drink too much from excitement and compare them to the 94' guys while re-watching every goal they score in work the next day.

And then...the wheels (or blades lmao so damn punny bro!) will come off. We'll give up fourteen thousand goals in a 5 game series, someone is gonna stuff poor Jimmy Vesey in his own locker, and they'll all say that Hank is way past his prime and should retire. And that's why I'm writing this now. Because I know I'll be sitting on a train back home in my twisted-tea-stained Messier jersey trying to figure out how we got here, and how I was tricked again. The best way to explain that feeling is that being a Ranger fan is like constantly going back to that one ex that you know is bad for you, that your friends and family know is bad for you, but they charm you into believing it will be different this time and then ultimately mess you up all over again.

But as much as I complain and come off cynical, some sick twisted part of me deep down loves the roller coaster this franchise puts me on year in and year out. The hardened, trust issue ridden demeanor we lifelong fans give off is just a cover up for the soft, warm, and squishy love we've got for this stupid team. I tell Porter all the time that losing builds character (so since he's from Mass, he has none) and no place has more character than New York City thanks in part to them. We all know one day it'll be our turn, but I'll continue to protect myself from emotional trauma by acting like it will never ever ever happen. And don't get me wrong I am praying that this time, I'm wrong for thinking we are going to fall short for another consecutive year. On the contrary, every single atom in my body hopes the opposite happens. I want to win, to watch Hank cry, to cry with him, and then celebrate more than I'll celebrate the birth of my children. And whether I think it's our year or not, you can bet your bottom dollar I'll be right there in 3 weeks time (and by 'there' I mean butt-in-seat on Stipes' couch 'cause we po' and can't afford tickets) watching my blueshirts with a twea in hand, and blind hope in my heart.