Dear Habs,

First of all I just want to say that you're great. Really. You're smart, funny, talented, exotic - any girl would consider herself lucky to be your fan.

Unfortunately that girl is no longer me. This is where our journey together must end.

Sure, we've had some good times. I was there when Jose Theodore broke into the NHL; you introduced me to him and for that I will be forever grateful. I was there when Saku Koivu, Captain Courageous, made his triumphant return from cancer. I was there when you clawed your way back to defeat the Bruins in '04, and I was there in the spontaneous parade that erupted on Ste Catherine Street right after. I was even there as you sent my favorite players away, fired my coach and sank into mediocrity. I'm a fan; it's what we do.

But at the end of the day, you're just not the one I want. Not now.

We both knew this day would come, didn't we? You know I didn't go to Montreal looking for another team - you found me, caught me far from home, from the team I loved. I was hockey-sick, vulnerable. The scrappy underdog aura you had back then drew me in; the history, the legend, the lore kept me there.

So for ten years we've carried on, always tempting fate, knowing that soon enough the hockey gods would frown upon our love and force me to choose. And while I meant the things I said about you and will always have a special place in my heart for you...you're just not the Caps. It's not you, it's them. They will always be my first love. 

Maybe someday, after this crazy world settles down, we can be friends again. You know, as long as none of your players attempt to kill mine, none of your goalies throw their blockers at my stars, none of your fans treat my guys with disrespect and none of your media bashes them...perhaps someday we'll find each other once more. Like in July. 

For now, though, I must bid you farewell.

Adieu, mon tricolore. Au revoir, mes Habitants. And may you hold your head up high after we kick your French Canadian butts all over this continent.

Regards,

Becca