Worrying is what we Pittsburghers do best. Heck, we're champs at it, if you can pardon any pain associated with that particular word this morning.
We worry about the weather, even though we're essentially free of natural disasters.
We worry about traffic at the tunnels, even though our very biorhythms inch along at 7 mph.
We worry about our parking spot, even though we've already planted our plastic chair.
So yeah, go ahead and clean up the grass hill outside Consol Energy Center, give Market Square back to the pigeons, make sure Maz gets home safely, then fret all you want about how the Penguins fell to the Sharks, 4-2, in Game 5 of the Stanley Cup Final.
Because, unless I misread all that just occurred, it's now crystal clear that San Jose has the blueprint on how to roar back and take Games 6 and 7, as well:
Have a goaltender morph from sentient being to impregnable cyborg.
Score on two of your first three shots, then half of your first six.