I'm 7 and waiting in line for a "sleigh ride." Not really a sleigh. Mr. Campbell would tie a rope to his tractor and we'd climb on aluminum saucers all attached in a wobbly row behind it. He'd drag us around his property while we ingested fumes that he belched out the back.

So, I'm waiting in line for my turn, wearing my snowmobile suit, needing to piss worse than I ever have before or since. I remember it clearly. Quite the dilemma. Run home, take off my boots, take off my snowmobile suit and pee like a big boy in my big boy bathroom, losing my place in line that I'd waited forever (like 8 minutes) to get to the front of?

Or just piss in the snowmobile suit and let Campbell fling me around his backyard like a 3 dollar hooker in Columbus on a Tuesday afternoon.

I pissed in the snowmobile suit, which I would do again today.

I pissed in it and I stayed out there and got like 5 more sleigh rides before I went home. I stayed out there in my urine-soaked snowmobile suit and had the time of my life. Now, when the time came to run and frolic with my friends, in between rides, it was uncomfortable. Frolicking in snowmobile suits is never easy, and even harder when weighted down with urine.

My point?

The Wings looked, and probably smelled, like they were playing in piss-soaked snowmobile suits last night. A far different team than the fresh, fragrant, fluid team we saw the night before against Philly. They were slow. They were heavy. They were out of sorts and probably exhausted.. They were playing a team that was more desperate.

That will not be the case tomorrow. We saw last night coming. Every one of us.

If the Rangers defeat Detroit tomorrow they will face the Penguins in Round 1, and they will be destroyed. Anyone who plays the Penguins in Round 1 is going to be destroyed. The Rangers know this. I don't care what Rick Nash says, even though I believe it.

“I can understand why the question [about preferring the wild card] would be asked, but anyone who has ever been in a locker-room environment would know that would never happen,” Nash said.

I get that. No player on the ice tomorrow is going to give less of an effort or "try to lose." No chance and no way.

But...you've already thought this through. Coaches and GMs, allegedly smart people, are going to do what they have to in order to arrange the most beneficial first round matchup. They will because that's what they're paid to do. Players are paid to play hard. GMs are paid to ensure the circumstances that best assure success (Tick...tock).

If the Wings lose tomorrow, we're talking about a team that genuinely does not deserve to be in the playoffs. The Rangers want to lose. The Wings want to win. The Rangers don't need to win. The Wings absolutely must. If they don't, they deserve what they get (or don't get).

And, yes, you start Jimmy Howard. Yes, you can expect a better game, one closer to what we saw Wednesday. Yes, you can count on the veterans to remind this team what is at stake, as if they haven't and as if they need to.

Yes, you can expect a win. And, yes you can absolutely expect it to be painful. There is no way the Wings win easily. No. Frigging. Way. That's the new Wing Way. Nothing easy. Everything stressful.

The spectre of the Pens is real. If I was a Ranger fan, I'd be demanding a loss tomorrow. I'd honestly demand it. Publicly.

The idea of the Wings losing tomorrow is disgusting, but imaginable. You've already thought of a final minute scramble. You can already see Howard pulled and you can already feel your stomach dropping to your shoes as the clock ticks down on a game the Wings should have won. You can feel the pain of losing a game that was practically pre-arranged for the Wings to win. In fact, you can't stop thinking of it.

It's ok. It's what we do.

The only consolation is that it probably won't happen. The Wings will probably win, because they really have to. And because the Rangers really need to lose.

It's probably best that you just let it go and not think about it. Enjoy your day. Watch some baseball. Drink a little. Kill a pet. Everything is going to...be...ok.

God help us all.