With the 2007-08 Hockey season barreling down on us from the opposite blueline like Steve Downie screaming for vengance after being spanked like the uncouth cementhead that he is, the time has come to speak of the one thing that sends every true hockey fan into fits of snarling hatred.
Rule changes.
If my parents had ever taught me anything besides proper public-restroom vigilance, it was the stale old adage “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” And, with the exception of the thrice-cursed pussy Trapezoid, and the puck-over-glass delay of game—it ain’t—so why the fuck are the nutless fools at The Hockey News (Can you hear me Proteau? You desk-jockey fathead?) already talking about making the net bigger?
Roberto Luongo, easily one of the top-five goalies in the league (Yes, Jeff, probably top-three), has already marked his territory on the issue with a couldn’t-be-clearer threat to retire if the league fucks with the net—and I’m inclined to agree—THN, on the other hand, has taken the opportunity to take cheap shots at one of the most talented goaltenders in the NHL.
While we’re busy crippling the hardest-working players on the ice, why don’t we just stake the poor bastard down in the crease like a turd-eating yard-dog and tie his blocker hand to the pipes. It would create offensive opportunities. I guarantee it—but so would removing the goalie entirely, or allowing bionic wingers. You want a sport with training wheels? Watch baseball. The Hockey News. My ass.
When I hear that sad old refrain out of the mouths of morons that hockey isn’t high-scoring enough, I want to spit. How many public education dollars do you have to throw away before you produce the ultimate idiot? That (supposedly) rare fuckhead who can’t figure out the really tough math—the math that proves, and has proven, once and for all that a 4-3 hockey game CONTAINS AS MUCH SCORING in two hours as a tight 28-21 contest on the gridiron that eats up FOUR stultifyingly boring Coors-sponsored hours of your life that you will never get back. This is the same asshole who actually thinks that a) A train passing you while carrying a suitable volume of “The Silver Bullet” will lower the ambient temperature outside; b) Huge-titted valkyries fly out of my butthole; and c) 13 games a year is a “grueling” schedule.
More on the inherent superiority of hockey to any other sport later in the year—I promise.
And before those big-mag chumps get any more digs in, I’d also like to take exception to all those dicks who can’t seem to quit cracking their teeth about how “hockey will never appeal to a broader audience until the NHL curbs fighting”. Bullshit. Hockey doesn’t want your fandom, fucker. I don’t want to share my favorite sport with you. Go home. Curl up with your comfy-chair, masturbate to the shampoo ads on TLC, and keep your quisling crap to yourself.
Yes, the glove-dropping flash-mob “dates” that we’ve seen increasingly over the past couple of years are cheap and contrived slugfests that even a bloodthirsty jerk like myself might just watch from a sitting position (See Godard vs. Stortini, or Boogard or Brashear vs. Anyone). I’m here to say that I will be god-damned if I don’t slaver with anticipation every single time a good fourth-liner takes exception to that questionable high hit in the corner—and any “fan” who can keep their seat during a goalie fight isn’t just abnormal, he’s dead.
So kiss my ass, Proteau—and thank your lucky stars that jefcanuk didn’t see your blog before I did. Luongo is HIS goalie—and I think he might just have to retaliate.
Keep your head up.
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