Photo from NBC Sports
What the hell was that? No, what the HELL was that? I am so very, very disappointed. You know why? Because it was always worse to have to face the disappointed coach or dad or what have you than to have someone yell and scream in your face and tell you that you suck. Because I’m assuming that you KNOW you suck.
And if you are not certain, last night’s score can surely provide some clarity for you on that point. Because if you gentlemen think I enjoy watching the Flyers score go exponentially upwards while I sit at Fenway and observe the Red Sox participate in a contest of ineptitude (luckily, the Blue Jays were just ever so slightly more inept), then you are MISTAKEN.
Because if you think you’re pulling that bait and switch, the ole’ “We’re not that good so no one expects too much from us oh wait a minute we’re in the second round up three games to none, hang on here maybe we’re good after all now people are starting to believe, oh that’s right, WE SUCK” then I have got some words for you, sirs. Those words being “Stop it.” Because I do not truck with that sort of behavior, gentlemen. And I will not stand for it.
So here’s what I have to say to you: you better straighten up and fly right and take care of business come tomorrow night because I have enough to worry about without you bozos futzing around on the ice and losing 4-0 to a backup goalie who is, in point of fact, NOT Ken Dryden or Patrick Roy or even Martin Brodeur.
Suffice it to say I am very disappointed in you, gentlemen. Get it together.
And you, Joshua Patrick Beckett? You and your ailing back or your avulsions or blisters or whatever else is bothering you? I’ve no patience for that either. Rub some dirt on it. Suck it up. I’m tired of all your lollygagging.
LOLLYGAGGERS, the whole lot of you.
Photo from Boston.com
Now THAT’S what I like to see. That’s the way to reintroduce yourself to the playoffs.
Couldn’t have scripted it better, could ya?
Even if it wasn’t against Matt Cooke’s nefarious Penguins, it was still against that other Pennsylvania-based hockey team who previously employed Randy Jones, the player responsible for concussing Patrice Bergeron with a dirty hit in 2007. So I’m calling it a twisted sense of karma.
Perhaps the best part of the game – aside from the win, of course – was watching the tail end of the third period and the entirety of overtime at the Greek Corner restaurant in North Cambridge with the awesome staff whose concern over our service was secondary to yelling at the Bruins and dramatically pounding on the counter during the Bruins’ absolute onslaught of shots in overtime. Which is totally fine because I enjoy my local restaurant folk caring about the teams around here. And also, totally unsolicited plug for the Greek Corner restaurant but they serve the best avgolemono soup and lamb gyros I’ve ever had. You know, just in case you’re looking for a place for lunch. They’ll probably have the game on.
ANYWAY, the Bruins are doing a girl proud, no? And as often as I try to avoid being all mushy and girly about these things, look at Mark Savard’s face up there? How happy is that man? Don’t you just want to hug him? Perhaps after he showers and de-hockifies himself, but still. Maybe in this case you’d even forgo that sort of thing and just go right in for the hug like at the end of Rocky where Adrian totally doesn’t care that he’s all bloody and sweaty and snotty and what not and just goes right in for the hug because he finally went the distance? This is kind of like that, right? Except that Savard was fighting against Philadephia instead of being from there and he’s not Italian and there’s no Adrian and, okay, so really, it’s nothing like that. But Rocky IS my favorite movie and I haven’t seen it in a while and also I’ve got so much Mucinex and decongestant in my system, it might be making me imagine things. No matter. There will be a Game 2 and it will be exciting. And I suppose that’s what matters.
That and I hope someone buys Mark Savard a beer tonight. Maybe two.