Believe: Red Wings 2-1 Stars
Ten down, six to go. Best of seven: Detroit 2-0 Dallas.

I missed Thursday's Game 1, Red Wings 4-1 Stars, catching up on my video tape recordings and picking my father up from Bishop International Airport. What should have been a quick and routine excursion was elongated by the flat tire suffered by his Impala, which I drove because I'd rather not have that man in my precious Lumi. However, I find all of my father's failing amusing, even those he experiences by proxy, like the nail-punctured tire; so, the extra time was not entirely wasted. (Petulant? Yes, but I spent seventeen years absolutely idolizing my father; I am entitled to demonize him for at least an equal period. I'll attempt to adopt a truly adult attitude towards that monster when I'm thirty-four, giving me just over five years of remaining petulance. Woot!)

During my Texile, my roommate and I attended a Wings-Stars game at the American Airlines Center in Dallas, the tickets courtesy of one of his colleagues, a native son of "the Metroplex." To the displeasure of the surprisingly dedicated crowd, the Red Wings prevailed (I do not recall the exact score and at this moment in time I do not wish to search my archives for my ticket stub, upon which I wrote the final score). Then and now, I am constitutionally incapable of taking the Dallas (should be Minnesota North) Stars seriously. Though the Cowboy-imitating Stars bested both the not-so-mighty Anaheim Ducks and the San Jose Sharks on their way to the (Western) Campbell Conference Finals, I would be far more uneasy facing either the Ducks or the Sharks.

My reason insists the Stars have too much talent to be swept, but my gut isn't so sure. That said, I'll take my cue from the Coach Mike Babcock, Captain Nick Lidstrom, and Rudyard Kipling, "And check the show of pride." Respect for your enemy is the first step toward his defeat.

Go Red Wings!

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
They Might Be Giants, "Cyclops Rock" from Mink Car (T.L.A.M.)