It Comes Down To This

Well, here I am - at the end of ten years as a Wild season ticket holder.  I have a pain that can only be described as heartache from the loss of a true love.  Except that this true love will remain a presence in my life; on tv, on the radio, online and the occasional trip home to the X.  My true love also lives on in the 10 years of memorabilia that I've been sorting through and organizing this week.  Oceans of tears have been mixed in with silent smiles broken up by giggles and chuckles as each of the seasons have once again played out for me. 
I have it all, folks - starting with the seat deposit confirmation in 1997 to the naming of the team to the unveiling of the logo and first jersey to the very first game program in 2000 to the 2003 playoff tickets to the hockey survival kit during the lockout to the division title to the end of an era seeing Jacques Lemaire go and now through Year Ten.  
There are game programs, ticket stubs, calendars - both wall and magnet types.  There are mugs - ceramic and glass, drinking glasses and shot glasses, posters and player cards.  There are renewal packages with themes for each season followed by season ticket packages with patches and pins.  There are playoff towels and pom-poms, t-shirts and doggie kerchiefs.  There are mittens, stocking caps and headbands.  There are lunch bags, wrapping paper, key chains, pucks and bobble heads.  That's before I even touch the three expanding cases filled with signed player pictures.  And yes, one of those cases holds only Wes Walz...ALOT of Wes Walz...more Wes Walz than one stalking fan probably deserves or needs.  But he's mine, all mine...
How can I possibly feel so heartbroken and lost surrounded by 13 years of Wild history?  It comes down to having been there.  From wearing a hard hat for the construction tour of the X to getting my picture taken with the Stanley Cup on Opening Night.  Season One through Season Ten, game after game - it comes down to being there.  In my seat, on the edge of my seat, leaping to my feet to cheer and feeling the building vibrate.  Being there, regardless of the weather outside, the kind of day I had leading up to the drop of the puck or even how poorly the Wild played on some nights. 
It comes down to being surrounded by fellow fans who love the team as much as I do, who love hockey as much as I do.  It comes down to Vicki - the best hockey partner EVER.  Who else would have let me profess my love for Wes (at the top of my lungs) as he skated out on the ice before the start of every game?  Or share in the delight of watching Manny Fernandez doing the butterfly splits?  We completed each other's sentences - including the appropriate curse words - when yelling at the team.  She smells her game programs and signs us up for the raffles.  It's all about Vicki singing the Wild Anthem, the National Anthem and Oh, Canada with equal bravado, but REALLY belting out the Bon Jovi tunes during the tv time outs.  It comes down to Vicki being as thrilled as I am at the start of every game when the announcer says: "Okay Minnesota, On Your Feet!  Here They Come...Your Minne-Sota Wild!"      
Vicki will take good care of the seats, along with Dave, going forward and who better to entrust them to?  Still, it comes down to knowing I won't be there for the sights, sounds, smells and emotions of the next Wild season. 

I'm going to try to be done with being maudlin but I ain't promising anything.  I am working on a post which hopefully will purge all of the anger and disappointment I'm feeling towards the team.  They say it's good to get your feelings out in the open...