Tonight.
It all comes down to this. One game. Sixty minutes of play. 3,600 seconds. The Pittsburgh Penguins have played 105 games since October 4, 2008.
Those 105 games, tonight, mean nothing.
All we have is the moment.
Fans all over Pens Nation are a ball of raw nerves right now. I can't even think of how tense the Pens themselves are at this very hour. We're all watching, waiting, preparing -- eating lucky burritos. Wearing lucky underwear. Making rally towels. Eating borscht. Watching highlights on YouTube. Watching the speech from "Miracle."
Great moments are born from great opportunity. And that's what you have here tonight, boys. That's what you've earned here tonight.
This is our night.
It is not our house. It is enemy territory. The odds are against us. Trash-talking is abundant. But the odds, tonight, mean nothing.
Do you hear me, Pens Nation? THE ODDS MEAN NOTHING. Our team knows that it is do or die. They know this. Together, right now, they stand in solidarity, the pain of last year echoing in their minds.
But this is their night.
The time has come for us to prove to the whole world that to win the Stanley Cup, to raise that 34.5-pound silver beast, to bring Lord Stanley home to the fans, the odds don't have to be in your favor. Tonight, against all odds, the Pittsburgh Penguins will prove this. It is their night. It is our night. It is Pittsburgh's night...Pittsburgh's time.
The network announcers can slip shit in against us in all their broadcasts. It doesn't matter. Those octopus-throwing jagoffs that are Detroit fans can lay their faith in the geezers that compose their team. It doesn't matter. The NHL can "accidentally" release Detroit Red Wings Stanley Cup Champions apparel. It doesn't matter. Because tonight...tonight...we will prove them all wrong.
I am sick and tired of hearing about what a great hockey team Detroit has. SCREW 'EM! This is YOUR time!
Now go out there and take it.
It all comes down to this. One game. Sixty minutes of play. 3,600 seconds. The Pittsburgh Penguins have played 105 games since October 4, 2008.
Those 105 games, tonight, mean nothing.
All we have is the moment.
Fans all over Pens Nation are a ball of raw nerves right now. I can't even think of how tense the Pens themselves are at this very hour. We're all watching, waiting, preparing -- eating lucky burritos. Wearing lucky underwear. Making rally towels. Eating borscht. Watching highlights on YouTube. Watching the speech from "Miracle."
Great moments are born from great opportunity. And that's what you have here tonight, boys. That's what you've earned here tonight.
This is our night.
It is not our house. It is enemy territory. The odds are against us. Trash-talking is abundant. But the odds, tonight, mean nothing.
Do you hear me, Pens Nation? THE ODDS MEAN NOTHING. Our team knows that it is do or die. They know this. Together, right now, they stand in solidarity, the pain of last year echoing in their minds.
But this is their night.
The time has come for us to prove to the whole world that to win the Stanley Cup, to raise that 34.5-pound silver beast, to bring Lord Stanley home to the fans, the odds don't have to be in your favor. Tonight, against all odds, the Pittsburgh Penguins will prove this. It is their night. It is our night. It is Pittsburgh's night...Pittsburgh's time.
The network announcers can slip shit in against us in all their broadcasts. It doesn't matter. Those octopus-throwing jagoffs that are Detroit fans can lay their faith in the geezers that compose their team. It doesn't matter. The NHL can "accidentally" release Detroit Red Wings Stanley Cup Champions apparel. It doesn't matter. Because tonight...tonight...we will prove them all wrong.
I am sick and tired of hearing about what a great hockey team Detroit has. SCREW 'EM! This is YOUR time!
Now go out there and take it.
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