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I have to be honest, I'm not even really sure what I'm going to be writing about today. I have such a wide array of thoughts and emotions about the team right now that I think my brain may be overloaded. I don't know if I should be angry or sorry, hopeful or resigned to failure.

In case you've been away from the internet lately, the Avalanche are in the midst of a meltdown. After winning 8 out of 9 following the trade deadline, the Avalanche have fallen. Hard. They've lost 4 straight games and have looked increasingly bad in doing so. While they looked competitive against the Devils and the Wild, they looked like zombies dressed in ugly uniforms against the Flames and the Oilers. Listless, unemotional zombies.

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The Calgary game, the 75th of the season, is the first time the team has fallen behind the pace they set last year. Suddenly, the Avs need 11 points in their final 6 games just to match the 95 mark again...a 95-point mark that wasn't good enough to make the playoffs, I might add. While the team is still holding on to the final playoff spot, that hold is tenuous at best. Nashville is just 2 points behind Colorado, while Edmonton is just 3 (and could close that gap to 1 tonight). Just two weeks ago, this team looked unstoppable. Now they just look uninterested. And, of course, I think we all know what's in store for us if we do hold on to 8th spot - a first round embarrassment at the hands of the Red Wings. Oh, joy.

I know that a lot of people are trying to point fingers. It's the coach. It's the injuries. It's the lineup changes. It's Forsberg. It's Sakic. It's Theodore. It's the absence of Scott Parker.

Honestly, I don't care.

It's still my team, warts and all. I'm a hockey fan, not Dr Phil. I don't know why this team is so screwed up at the moment, and, really, I don't want to know. What I do know is that I'll be watching tonight, cheering on whatever 20 players are healthy enough to don the garish uniprons this evening. From the look of things on the ice, I'm not sure if many of the Avalanche players want to make the playoffs, but, as George Thorogood sang, 'that don't confront me just as long as I get my rent money by next Friday.'

Of course, you all know what happens on Friday when we don't have the rent money...