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I have a standard ritual after most every home game I attend -- Sonny
Bryan's in the West End for wings and a half order of onion rings. This time, I sit
here listening to the sounds of the street while drinking water because I can stomach
nothing else. Because today, the sound of the street includes the chant, "Here
we go Red Wings, here we go!" Because red-clad fans strut up and down the
streets of Dallas like they own them. And why not, their team obviously owns ours . . . |
| It didn't start that way, of course. As the local heroes took the ice, it seemed like any other playoff game. A Stars team that had survived the ferocity of the Sharks and the speed of the Oilers came out against the power of the Wings. This would be the acid test for the President's Trophy winners. |  |
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It looked like the home team would be playing a scrappy game after a brief game of "Smell my glove" in the Dallas crease. But, the defending champions would come back and see if this Dallas team could still fight after being given a black eye. |