Hm... this needs to be deep. Thoughtful. It must transcend the depths of the human experience... truly speak to the animal nature of man. It must be both a ballad in celebration of love and joy, and a commentary on the daily struggles faced by millions - internally, and externally. Lets see...
--Duh da duh, duh da duh...
Good start... getting there. This next bit needs to really grab at the listener's soul...
--Duh da duh, duh da duh...
Wow, this is some good acid. I'm really knocking this one out of the park.
--Duh da duh da duh da da.
I call it, "Chelsea Dagger."...and ever since I've wanted to choke that son of a bitch with a curtain wire.
Congrats to the Bandwagon. They managed to shove more goals past the Flyers shitty goalie than was shoved past their shitty goalie. A thousand horrays.
What a story though. I mean, wow. Players like Jonathan "too cool for school" Toews and Patrick "respect for the working man" Kane have really been yearning for this moment for what seems like an eternity... to a hyperactive four year old. The goaltending duals were simply fantastic; 47 goals in 6 games? Wow, thats less than 8 goals a game! And those fans. They've been waiting. Well... five of them have. The rest had to wait a harrowing two weeks since they decided to start watching.
And can we please all shut the hell up about Marian Hossa? All ill-will aside, it's not that great of a story. The way the media plays the story, the guy's been waiting longer than Pat Kane for his cab-fare change. The film is Ray Borque II: The man behind the douche. Marian Hossa FINALLY wins.
Let's get it straight... he's 31. He played for some outstanding teams that made it to the finals three years running. He choked hard enough in those playoffs to ensure that for two of them, he walked away empty handed. That doesn't make him a hero. It makes him a choke-artist who rides the coattails of more talented and more driven players. So lets stop pretending like the guy was owed something, or he's that he's been robbed in the past.
And by the way... did anyone else catch that self-entitled dicknose panting like a puppy while Toews lifted the cup. His captain had about 10 seconds with the thing till he got in his face, grabbed it, and celebrated for a solid minute like it was all about him. Like he didn't spend the majority of the playoffs pulling a Hossa and waiting for everyone else to drag his ass to the finals. Gross. I wasn't a huge fan of the guy before, mostly because of the choke job he pulled in Detroit. But now, ugh.
The worst thing though? The cup is in the same city as I am... and it's not Detroit. It's ours. It sucks ever watching another team pick it up and celebrate. It's even worse when the fuckers are right under your nose. I still hold that the children on that team didn't suffer enough to deserve the ultimate prize and their "fanbase" for the most part is in the same boat. Sure, they had a hell of a drought, but its not like the overwhelming majority of them were around for any of it.
Gary's getting his way. He wants "parity" and that's what this system creates. The Hawks didn't win because of the genius moves their front office made. Quite the opposite. They won because they sucked so hard for so long that they're loaded with obvious draft picks. Honestly, a computer could have GMed this team by just automatically selecting whatever The Hockey News set as their draft rankings. And next year? It's all over. Chicago won't be able to afford the team they had this year. Not by a long shot. Give it five years and we'll likely be looking at the Isles in the same fashion. The idiots on NBC will rant and rave about how talented they are, and how hard their front office worked to rebuild them, when really.... it's just about getting those lottery picks.
Whatever. Next year its ours. We'll take it back. For now, I'll keep breeding the hate because those fuckers deserve it. Go ahead... chant nothing but "Detroit Sucks" while you eat a chode for a decade and then act like I'm supposed to embrace you when you're in the finals. Eat me.
Enjoy that Cup. It's ours next year.
...is it October yet?