They failed to win the Stanley Cup. They lost their last three games. They blew a commanding series lead. They couldn’t beat the Chicago Blackhawks four times in seven games. They fell one game short of the Western Conference Finals.

They made youthful mistakes. They took dumb penalties. They made bad passes that made me cringe and grab the nearest pillow for dear life. They gave pucks away. They relied too much on talent. They didn’t work hard enough to win every game.

They had more injuries than any team in the league. They fought through them. They won four straight games when doubt finally crept in, and they kept the playoff streak alive.

They surprised everyone. They outplayed and outclassed the Anaheim Ducks. They responded in the third period of tonight’s Game 7. They gave everything in that third period. They were on the wrong side of a deflection in overtime. They were on the right side of the officiating at 1:47 of the third. They made a playoff run that few predicted.

They had grit. They had energy. They played fast. They played heavy. They hit. They scored. They thanked their fans.

They have a Russian who brings great joy and unfathomable goals, like the two off-kilter lasers he flicked top shelf against Anaheim and Chicago. They have a goalie who earned every penny his new contract pays. They have players with animal nicknames, like Goose and Mule, who have tremendous skill. They have men who grew manly red beards. They have an aloof Swiss softie who shined in shootouts and sudden death. They have a coach who told the sugarless truth, always with credit and class. They have a captain who responded in big moments and led by example.

They made me feel sad and angry and frustrated. They crushed me. They made me feel happy and lucky and proud. They fulfilled me. They made me smile and shout and dance with delight in the middle of the night.

They are my team. They always will be.