Eat your goddamn heart out Ferris Bueller. Assuming that a new one can't truly start until you actually close your eyes for longer than it takes to blink champagne out of them, the following was all in a day's "work" for Alexander Ovechkin and the Washington Capitals...
My first thought upon seeing Alexander Ovechkin treat hockey's ultimate prize like some combination of his birth blankey, a freshly-tapped keg, and - sooner rather than later - his right hand in the court of law was that the Capitals have really deprived us of a pricey version of Project X by having a low tolerance for high pressure situations prior to this postseason. Of course, my second thought was that they probably wouldn't be using the entire city of Washington like the backyard of a low-rent, off-campus college house if this untimed shit show hadn't been in the making for about three decades-worth of the dog years in which Ovi's looks have been aging.
Both things are probably partially accurate, but whatever the case may be, the Caps are following their leader off the ice about as well as they did on the ice. Luckily for those of us living vicariously through the Stanley Cup's bender, their leader just so happens to be the type to inject some energy into a power nap with the crisp cracking of a cold one.
To be clear, I'm not completely lukewarm on acting like you've been there before, as humility doesn't get anymore nauseatingly commendable than it does in the hockey world. Unfortunately, having not been there before, riding the high of a 48-hour binger with not a concern in the world but where your next drink (and/or chant) is coming from is a hell of a lot more more relatable.
Since the two are always going to be compared to one another anyway, let's put this in the following context. Sidney Crosby is the consummate champion, but his rival just became the people's champion by seemingly matching the amount of debauchery he has gotten into with hockey's Holy Grail within the confines of one extended Saturday. Mathematically speaking, if you tallied up all the laughs that have been had at the Caps' expense throughout all of their self-proclaimed years and multiplied it by amount of goals Ovi scored before they became eternally validated by a championship then you'd probably get close to the quantity of fun they've had since Friday. Alexander Ovechkin might not be carrying the Stanley Cup like he owns it, but I'll be damned if there's not something incredibly endearing about watching him fill it up enough times to get his money's worth out of the summer long lease he's got on it.
Cheers to him continuing to drink em' up, on the condition that it doesn't require him to put his life's work down for more than 5 minutes at a time.