All quiet on the Portrait Gallery steps

It’s cold but sunny, and getting warmer as afternoon approaches on this late Sunday morning; and I'm on my way to Chinatown to watch my beloved Capitals play the Pittsburgh Penguins, the most evil franchise in the history of organized sports.

Is that an exaggeration? A slight overstatement? Maybe. Maybe.

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The Capitals are in a slump. This is almost routine in February so I'm not worried. Not much. All the same, though, I'm taking some steps to turn this situation around.

I have an old red cordura nylon handbag that's not very stylish, and I don't like it very much. But I carried this ugly bag for the entire duration of the 2018 playoff run, and look how that turned out. So I'm carrying the bag today. And I'm wearing my least favorite of my two jerseys, because they always win when I wear it. This is all I can do.

I've never actually never seen a Penguins game live. I've never seen the fan showdown on the Portland Gallery steps. I've never gotten to yell "Mur-ray!! at Brian Murray. I'm looking forward to it.

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So that turned out exactly as I’d hoped; meaning the Capitals won and the Penguins lost and it was very very quiet on the Portrait Gallery steps. It was almost 60 degrees, sunny, and still broad daylight as we (meaning 40,000 or so happy Capitals fans and a handful of gloomy Pens fans) streamed out onto F Street and into the sunshine. Cars passed, honking three quick “Let’s go Caps!” blasts, and the crowd responded with cheers. A win against the Penguins at home is a big deal.

It was a nice day. I wish I didn’t feel so bad today, and I wish I knew why I do, but there it is. Sometimes even watching Sidney Crosby break his hockey stick in frustration on a beautiful Sunday afternoon isn’t enough to keep the demons at bay. But this will pass, like everything else. Good triumphed over evil at Capital One Arena yesterday, and this too will pass.