rally towels

Now that I’ve had a few hours to really collect myself…

As long as I am a hockey fan, I will never forget this year’s Predators. Starting from when I sobbed at work when we traded Shea for PK and was told to go home because I was scaring the children with my tears, this season was a whirlwind. Getting over the sadness of losing our captain, and embracing the elation that came shortly after when I realized the amazing player (and person) we were getting in PK. Watching videos of PK coming to town and just fully embracing what this city embodies. Seeing Fish get the C. Attending the first game of the season when PK scored the first goal, and we beat the Blackhawks. When I realized this team was something so special.

I’ll never forget the crazy/weird/amazing things that happened. Our amazing November, and our tragic December. When Matt Irwin was the talk of the town for scoring like every game. When everyone realized that Juuse is going to be a superstar in this league one day. When the boys won the Mario plush at Dave and Busters and he became our mascot. Freaking out over Fil not scoring for a long time. Rejoicing when Fil finally started scoring again. Arvy having a 30 goal season. Monster block.

Watching this team barely squeeze into the playoffs. Seeing every analyst say we would lose to Chicago in the first round. Sweeping the Hawks. Crushing the Blues. Beating the Ducks. The heartbreak that was the Finals. Watching player after player falling victim to injury. 

All of the anthems. All of the rally towels. All of the #Glorious. All of the catfish.

I love these 16-17 Nashville Predators with all of my being. What a hell of a season. 

We’ll be back for you next year, Stanley.

To Boston.
To the 17,565.
To the coaching staff.
To Claude Julien, and eventually,
To Bruce Cassidy.
To the nicknames.
To the Garden.
To Orr, and Schmidt, and Neely,
And all the others who came before us.
To Jack and Brick, high above the ice.
To homemade signs and rally towels.
To hat tricks.
To fights.
To the vets,
And to the new guys.
To the refs we hate, and to the few we don’t.
To our rivals and friends alike.
To games lost,
And to games won.
To playoff victories,
And playoff heartbreak.
To those who watched their first game this year,
And to those who watched their last.
To those who were injured and have the scars to prove it.
To our Forwards, Noel, David, Matt, Patrice, Jakob, Jimmy, David, Sean, Brad, Dom, Riley, David, Tim, Ryan, Drew, and Frank.
To our Defense, Brandon, Zdeno, Torey, John-Michael, Charlie, Adam, Colin, Kevan, and Joe.
To our Goalies, Zane, Anton, and Tuukka (especially to Tuukka.)
To each fan who watched every game from the edge of their seat.
To every nail biter.
To every heart stopper.
To ‘I’m Shipping Up to Boston’ by the Dropkick Murphys.
To loving that dirty water.
To every time the goal horn blared over TD Garden.
To the 2016-2017 Season.
To the Boston Bruins.

Thank you.

—  T. B.
3

“One strike away; nothing-and-two, the count to Hinske. Fans on the their feet; rally towels are being waved. Brad Lidge stretches. The 0-2 pitch — swing and a miss, struck him out! The Philadelphia Phillies are 2008 World Champions of baseball! Brad Lidge does it again, and stays perfect for the 2008 season! 48-for-48 in save opportunities, and let the city celebrate! Don’t let the 48-hour wait diminish the euphoria of this moment, and the celebration. And it has been 28 years since the Phillies have enjoyed a World Championship; 25 years in this city that a team that has enjoyed a World Championship, and the fans are ready to celebrate. What a night!” - Harry Kalas (10/29/08)

So, I was in a production of Annie recently..
As a parting gift for all the cast members, they gave us all these little trinkets..
I thought it was a handkerchief, which of course would have been alright!


But-

My first thought is, What the fuck am I supposed to do with this thing..?

But thankfully, this list has been provided, along with picture demonstrations on what could be done with it…

……wHAT

So I decided to put them to the test..

First: A Beanie..

A headband..

a Fabulous Scarf..

a Hair cover..

a Balaclava…

a Rally Towel(?)

…And a face mask….. This one’s my favorite…

….Can you imagine-…
Like-

PUT THE MONEY IN THE BAG!

Item had been deemed useful in some way…..
10/10 would use again..

The World Series: Game Five

A series of ficlets that revolve around Kate Beckett’s love of the Mets, their 2015 World Series against the Royals, and the ongoing separation of Beckett from Castle. Set between 8x05 ‘The Nose’ and 8x06 ‘Cool Boys’. Spoilers for all aired episodes. Read the others in the series here.

There will be one more installment to close this series out following this one.


Their pre-game dinner ends up postponed, Kate only sliding into her seat beside him with roughly five minutes to spare before the first pitch. She’s changed from her work attire to jeans and an oversized Mets jersey, but there is no sparkle to his wife when he passes her an extra large mug of coffee and the fries she had asked him to snag her in a text. 

In fact, Kate looks hollowed out when those exhausted green eyes flick up to meet his with her murmured thanks, shadows smudged under her eyes that have him worried that the precinct has caught a difficult case. Years of experience in working with her are enough to know how One Police Plaza doesn’t hesitate about throwing their weight around. 

He just hopes whatever they are hurling her way doesn’t ruin tonight. 

While she takes a long drink of her coffee, Kate only nibbles at her fries through the top of the inning, pushing them away completely by the time the top of the Mets lineup comes to bat. The crowd around them is rolling, waving their rally towels over their heads in anticipation. That excitement turns into a dull roar that increases steadily in volume and finally explodes as Curtis Granderson’s lead-off home run sails over the wall. 

Like the crowd around him, Rick is on his feet cheering, bouncing in place and releasing a high pitched whistle when Granderson rounds first base to the approval of the home crowd. It’s only when he turns to take in his wife’s reaction that he notices she’s still in her seat, the barely suppressed shine of tears in eyes that are dully and glassy. 

His heart sinks to his stomach in that instant, game forgotten in his concern for his wife. Wherever her thoughts lie are far away from Citi Field and the World Series. 

“Kate,” he murmurs her name while taking his seat, gentle in how he tugs her right hand from her left where it steadily twists her wedding ring around and around on her finger. Instead, her hand is caught between both of his, eyes trained on his wife until she comes back to him from wherever she’s been. “What is wrong? What happened?”

She attempts a strained smile, a tear sliding free from its ranks to trickle across her cheek. For a moment, she looks ready to confess whatever it is. At least until the hum of the crowd pulls her from her emotional turmoil as they respond to something that he can neither see nor be bothered to care about. 

“Not here,” she tells him, the warmth of her hand sliding across his jaw as Kate cups his cheek, “Let’s just watch the game.” 

Even once Rick turns his attention back to the field, his thoughts stay with that unhappy sheen that surrounds the woman who has tucked her head against his shoulder and pressed herself as close to him as the seats will allow. 

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