Okay. It’s perfectly obvious now. Why it hadn’t occurred to me before, I’ll never know. Those dastardly fiends at Maple Leafs Sports and Entertainment have ripped open a hole in space-time and swapped our Covered-In-Glory 2007 Senators with the Bathed-In-The-Stink-Of-Gary-Roberts’-Junk Senators, circa 2002. Of course! How else to explain the sudden reappearance of our favourite wilting lilies from days of yore? I can’t. Can you?
Seriously. Just what the hell is going on? Everybody with a functional frontal lobe told them what they needed to do. Hit them. Skate. Hit them again. Muck it up on the boards. Keep hitting them. Get shots to the net. Look like you CARE goddammit. And to a man, the team nodded, agreed, promised to do just that. Yep. You betcha! Totally! RAH! WE’RE GOING OUT THERE AND…ah…play worse? 16 shots. SIXTEEN! Jesus wept.
Alright. That’s it for my rant. It took me about an hour last night to empty my Big Cauldron Of Rage but now nice Mister Doctor Guy says I’m all fixed. My patio set may need additional recovery time however. (Sorry Honey. We’ll get a new one. Promise).
Seriously. Just what the hell is going on? Everybody with a functional frontal lobe told them what they needed to do. Hit them. Skate. Hit them again. Muck it up on the boards. Keep hitting them. Get shots to the net. Look like you CARE goddammit. And to a man, the team nodded, agreed, promised to do just that. Yep. You betcha! Totally! RAH! WE’RE GOING OUT THERE AND…ah…play worse? 16 shots. SIXTEEN! Jesus wept.
Alright. That’s it for my rant. It took me about an hour last night to empty my Big Cauldron Of Rage but now nice Mister Doctor Guy says I’m all fixed. My patio set may need additional recovery time however. (Sorry Honey. We’ll get a new one. Promise).
Um…so now what? Well, now our wallflowers return to the friendly confines of the Bank, where the frenzied mob will surely motivate them to, oh…I don’t know…play the frickin’ game like they have since the middle of April?!? Whether that motivation stems from the adrenaline rush which comes from the adulation of an adoring populace or an acute (and quite real) fear of being lynched in the parking lot after another stinker, I don’t much care.
Just show us something. Anything. Please?
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