Hating big cities...

...but not Pittsburgh. That is definitely the only city I can say I would deal with living there, and not only because my sports teams are supreme. Although I'm continually amazed with how much Pittsburghers love the Steelers, Penguins, and yes, even the Pirates.

After checking out the Buccos game (which they oh-so-lovingly won for me), I saw all the Pittsburgh natives strolling the streets and the stadium, all sporting shirts from one of our majors teams, I just realized how much people can come together. I think Pittsburgh quite literally is a small town masquerading as a big city.

The cultures merging, Italian, Polish, Croatian, Irish and just about any country you can imagine -- all can be found in the Strip District. Bargaining with shoppers, hawking food and shouting about $5 t-shirts, it shows the diversity of a farmer's market and the friendliness of a southern small town -- you just feel at home, and maybe a little overwhelmed.

Driving through the Fort Pitt tunnel reveals the beautiful skyline and Heinz and PNC stadiums along the waterfront, where the historic and beloved Three Rivers Stadium once stood. The old bridges and buildings welcome you, and the city is far from trendy, yet perfectly okay with that.

So many aspects make me love that city, but it's the little things that truly steal my heart. A simple nod of understanding while walking around in a Roberto Clemente shirt -- the city knows his greatness, as acknowledged by his large statue. A smile when someone notices a shirt denouncing Cleveland -- what a healthy and lovable rivalry. The discussions over food orders in restaurants and purchases in stores -- reminiscing about one of the best years in sports for a single city, the inspiration of Sidney Crosby, the unlikely touchdown from James Harrison, the disappointment in the Pirates, but the promise that is seen in Nyger Morgan and the stability in Jack Wilson.

I tried to enjoy my latest trip like it was my last, because I very well might not make the trip to the city again, but I certainly hope I'm wrong. Columbus has never been that type of city, and neither has Cleveland or Cincinnati. With three major sports and a troubling economic history, the city has become a cultural maven with grandmotherly women talking about the good ol' days and young children crooning over their hockey autograph. I couldn't think of a better city in which to spend a summer weekend enjoying life.

Basking in the glow

The road is long and difficult. Longer and more difficult than any other road in sports. The silver chalice is storied -- more so than any other professional trophy. In the middle of the season, nobody would have been caught dead predicting the Penguins in this position right now.

One year later. One lost, prima donna winger later. One coaching change later. One year older, wiser and more experienced, but still young with excitement. Young enough to fully appreciate this opportunity, but skilled enough to actually take advantage of it.

The Penguins showed their depth, the same kind of depth that announcers, sports writers, coaches and players have bestowed upon the Red Wings. Nobody talked about Max Talbot, or Jordan Staal. Everybody talked about Marc-Andre Fleury, but it wasn't positive. Ruslan Fedotenko, Tyler Kennedy, Bill Guerin, Chris Kunitz -- the smaller-named hockey players -- were the ones who vaulted this team led by Sidney Crosby and Evgeni Malkin beyond the team they were last year. Losing Marian Hossa freed up finances to pay Guerin, Kunitz, Brooks Orpik, all the players who played a significantly better game than Hossa did for the other side.

We all knew this day would come. Sidney Crosby was meant to write history. There's a reason he's been slated to win the Cup since his teenage years, a reason he's the face of the league, a reason he gets all those commercials. He may not have been the playoff MVP (an honor which deservedly went to Geno), but at 21 years old, he's the youngest captain to ever hoist that shiny cup. And words can't describe his face, and the feelings every Penguins fan felt as they watched his expressive and childlike smile spread to his teammates, with the Stanley Cup lifted high.

Until next year, boys.

Gather your troops

This guy, the wonderful Evgeni Malkin, has thrust himself into the 8th place spot of the most points in a single post-season. The list is impressive, including greats such as Wayne Gretzky, Mario Lemieux and Paul Coffey. Malkin currently has 35 points -- 14 goals and 21 assists. If the Wings can't find an answer for him, and Crosby and Zetterberg keep canceling each other out, these next few games could be interesting. But with Crosby finding ways to score, too, the Penguins are dangerous. And young. And healthy.

Game 4 was amazing beyond words. But I'm not just saying that -- I literally have no words to describe the magic I saw on that ice in Mellon Arena, and it won't be the last time Pens fans will see their beloved boys on home ice, thanks to the win.

The road will be difficult, even though it shortens by the hour. And those hours tick by slowly, as we replay Marc-Andre Fleury's amazing saves, Tyler Kennedy's well-executed goal or Sidney Crosby's game-winner. We have the talent, that we know. But we also know that Detroit has been here before, many, many times. But they haven't played against this Penguins team. Sure, they beat us last year, but this team isn't the same team. You can feel the electricity from the players and the fans, the fans that came by the thousands to sit outside the Igloo where they couldn't even see the game, just to be a part of it.

It. Will this be "it?"

Imagine how long it will take them to edit this video to fit Sidney Crosby's smirking face hoisting that 35-pound hunk of metal.

Superstitions

Do you see what's different in this picture from last year? All three of them are quite exuberantly touching the Prince of Wales trophy. If I remember correctly, Sid never came close to the trophy last year, out of superstition.

See where that got us?

Seems like we've matured. We have confidence. In fact, we ooze it from our pores. We relied on luck last year to get us to the finals, where we lost to a clearly superior team. This year, there's no need for it.

HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Why hello again, Prince of Wales. No time to bask -- next stop Lord Stanley! Sid the Kid and Geno, the modern-day Mario Lemieux/Jaromir Jagr. They deserve their names on the Cup many times over.

Thank you

For your wonderful son, and letting him unite with Sid the Kid in a thoroughly epic combination that will surely hoist the cup. If not this year, then some year in the future.