I'm up in enemy territory. Not a peep from anyone on the street, on the train, or at work. It's a cold, desolate morning with blowing snow and an icy wind that freezes souls. Rogers Place down the street is looking like a ghastly, sterile monolith more than any other time I've seen it. Today is a strange mix of somber hindsight with a muted sigh of relief from the Oiler base. Tonight after work, my colleagues will probably regale me with stories of when the Oilers had high hopes for a new dawn not just 2 years ago, when I heard nothing but tales of future Stanley Cups and multi-year parades down Jasper and Whyte that would go unrivaled.
I'm almost tempted to go pound on the windows of Rogers Place where they have their press conferences, which is right there next to the front doors. I'm wearing my Flames colors. God I'm tempted.
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