This dawn found me in a sentimental mood, so I spent some time going through the dusty archives of the Battle of Alberta and Covered in Oil from a time back when the Oilogosphere was young, San Fernando strode the world like a pre-colitis colossus, the acronym CFP stood for little more than Certified Financial Planner and the Calgary Flames were bowing out in the first round (plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose).
Those were heady times. Hockey enjoyment was, for me, at an all time high. The world was our oyster. Then it all came crashing down. The ‘06 summer exodus, the Pronger-for-magic-beans trade, the Smyth trade, the Dive for Five, and two straight seasons out of the playoffs all combined to kick the shit out of this Oilers fan. I’d love to share the optimistic outlook for '08-'09 of my blogging compatriots, but it’s tough: I’m pretty much a beaten dog at this point, cringing every time Kevin Lowe raises his hand.
The Oilers head into the new season (now an agonizing two months away) with arguably fewer question marks than anytime since the lockout. But for me, the big question mark this season is: can I learn to love again?
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