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As a Michigan resident, and the girlfriend of an avid fan, I’ve been sucked into the world of the Red Wings.

Before my current relationship, the most I knew about the Red Wings, or any sport for that matter, was pretty much what colors or logos represented them, and that was ONLY the Michigan teams. I also have very vague memories of walking in a parade one summer in my elementary school days for my summer day camp when the Wings won the Stanley Cup. Other than that, I was extremely uninformed. However, in the last year and a half, I’ve become quite the athletics scholar. I can name about half of all the sport teams, their cities, and what sport they play in the United States…college and pro. I’ve gone from dumb blonde to cute ‘routing for the right team’ girlfriend.

Continuing on, it’s the second series in the race for the Stanley Cup, and the Red Wings are up against the team that eliminated them last year, the San Jose Sharks. After sweeping the first round, Detroit had a few days off, and proceeded to lose two games in a row to the Sharks.

The day before the second series, my boyfriend was forced to shave his playoff beard for circumstances outside of his control… only one week into playoffs. He fumed and pouted but took the razor to his face and did as he had to, hoping deep down inside that his bearded defeat would not ruin the fantastic streak the Red Wings had going for them.

Game one: Lost. Game two: Lost.

He then says to me tonight: “The Red Wings are going to get swept because I shaved my beard.

I sincerely reminded him that there were other people we knew who also shaved their playoff beards early into the playoff season (wimps) and that it wasn’t entirely his fault. His argument? They weren’t important. It was his beard, and only his beard that mattered. His beard is the deciding factor of which team goes home with the Stanley Cup. All those other beards? They’re apparently just itchy scruff hiding the chins of fellow sports fans, useless to the actual results of the game.

I’m sure my darling boyfriend, who tots his classic Yzerman jersey around during every game, isn’t the only man who feels this way about his team. Realistically speaking, each and every man probably feels that their team wont win if they don’t successfully go about their superstitious ways during the season, and to that I shake my head in wonder ‘are all the other girlfriends out there shaking their head with me?”