How delikat! Finland and Sweden meet up for the mama of all Finals, the end-all be-all, the perfect storm, the battle of Galactica, the Judgement Day, the Thrilla in Manila… or the Thrillerino in Torino. It is live and let die and kill or be killed, all at the same time. Could this be the day when Finland finally steps out from the shadows of Sweden?
3-2, and olympic gold in icehockey goes to Sweden.
Real time: Right now, I hear Tre Kronor sing their national anthem. I see the big white-blue lions crying in interviews. I see the yellow on blue being waved, everywhere. I see… no, I don’t see our flag, not even a painted chin. The difference between winner and loser could not be bigger.
What is that thing dingling from the lions’ neck? Silver cruelty, what a despicable disappointment of an excuse for a metal. It turns you into a bitter hater. I feel my veins turn into ice… the same ice we were crushed on. Gold lost, not silver won.
But we shall roar again.
Nessum Dorma. As Luciano Pavarotti wraps it up in Torino, Italia, I wonder and ponder this riddle – why does the Finnish 2 minutes seem so much longer than the Swedish 2 minutes?
It certainly appears that time is, indeed, relative.