There must be something about the word "playoffs" that stirs the very soul.

There's anger. Aching disappointment. Unfettered joy.

And it can get pretty intense on the ice, too.

For example, the last time the Manitoba Moose hosted a playoff game, in May of 'aught seven, it was a nighmarish and inglorious end to what was deemed to be a potentially fruitful postseason. But that edition of the Moose didn't cooperate, blowing a two-goal third period lead against the eventual champion Hamilton Bulldogs in Game 6 to lose 4-3 in overtime.

Safe to say that the men behind the Moose, notably president Mark Chipman and GM Craig Heisinger, didn't suffer the defeat well. Didn't help when later that same week this space was devoted entirely to chastise the franchise for blowing a glorious opportunity to build and entrench their fan base with a Calder Cup run.

Even worse, how the Moose's mounting playoff failures - although sprinkled with a few inspiring performances - were beginning to evoke queasy comparisons to the Jets overall dismal postseason record.

I was informed shortly after the column appeared that Heisinger was going to have it cut out and laminated. It would then be used as fuel to motivate the GM, who planned to send it to me whenever the Moose won the championship with the message: "Thank you, Turner."

Okay, it wasn't "Thank-you." But it was two words that ended with "you."

I know this is true because that's exactly what Heisinger told me he was going to do.

The point here is that at the outset of every professional playoffs every qualifying team in the grueling tournament sets out with visions of grandieur. Every player day dreams of scoring the overtime winner and hoisting the Cup over his battle-scarred and sweat-drenched head.

Any shortcomings of the regular season can be swept aside with a valiant showing in the postseason.

But the sobering reality is that only one team wins, and for the losers there is no consolation. Indeed, for every last man standing, there is a path strewn with the disappointments and failures of others.

After all, jobs and reputations are at stake here. Don't kid yourself.

You think Moose head coach Scott Arniel's NHL prospects wouldn't skyrocket if he guided the Moose to a Calder final? And you can bet that if rookie netminder Cory Schneider somehow backstops the Moose deep into the playoffs, the comparisons to Carey Price will be falling from the sky.

Indeed, the parent Vancouver Canucks, now in a climate of management uncertainty, will no doubt be paying rapt attention to Schneider's evolution, and - should the young netminder blossom over the next few weeks - how that might affect the future of Canucks franchise goalie Roberto Luongo.

Already there's loose and unsubstantiated rumours that the Canucks could trade Luongo to the disgraced Ottawa Senators for sniper Jason Spezza.

Only one problem: Schneider's admirable finish down the stretch was only that. The kid hasn't so much won a single playoff game.

But it just goes to show the gravity associated with the playoffs and how that manifests itself in frayed nerves, short tempers and levels of paranoid thinking that would flatter the Nixon administration. So let's all agree that it's only going to get more prickly in Mooseville no matter how these playoffs unfold.

The beauty part, however, is that final loss to the Bulldogs last May, no matter how crushing, is history. The playoff exosketch has been shaken. Entering Game 3 tonight against the Syracuse Crunch, who come by their moniker honestly, the Moose have already split on the road to open the series last weekend.

And going forward the likes of Arniel, Schneider, Brad Moran and Jannik Hansen - just to name a few - will have every opportunity to either succeed or fail. Every shift, every game, every series.

Meanwhile, the Moose franchise, which has never advanced to the final four of any playoffs during it's 12 year history, has yet another crack at Calder awaiting.

Odds are that they won't win. In fact, there's odds against any one team winning.

That's what makes it so difficult and, if ultimately successful, so euphoric. It's why the playoffs can generate emotions that, in the context of a rational world, would seem so utterly manic.

Me? I'd love to get that laminated message from Heisinger one day.

I'd mail it back with my own message: "You're welcome."

Or something like that.

randy.turner@freepress.mb.ca