Combining Senators hockey with a contempt of the human condition since 2007.
Monday, May 28, 2007
Stanley Cup Finals -- Game 1: Upon Bryan's Signal Unleash Hell
Dear gawd, but it feels like these last 10 days have dragged forever. But we're here Sens fans. Pinch yourselves, you ain't dreamin'. Game 1 of the Stanley Cup Finals is thirty minutes away. And I, for one, am very warm and tingly in all of my special places.
I'm not even going to attempt a live blog on this. Not only can I count on any emotional stability at all, but the sweat on my palms keep causing myt fighhyngers toooolol slopslip off the keyboard.
My expectations tonight: Anaheim comes out like a house a-fire, crashing, banging, attempting to injure anything in white. The Senators (not too dopey from the lay-off...I hope...otherwise I'm making Bettman my bitch) have to weather the storm that will be the first five minutes. After that, the Ducks get themselves into penalty trouble and the boys go to work on a lethal powerplay. And if Marchant doesn't try to take out one of Alfie, Heater or Spez with a chicken-shit knee shot before the first period is over, I'll kiss a Leaf fan...on the mouth.
Final: Ottawa 4, Anaheim 1. Flangerotti!
p.s: I have to give a quick plug to the boys at Battle of Ontario. If you want a lively game thread, head there. I'll try to make it over myself...as soon as I stop throwing up.
Unapologetic sports fanatic (blessed with an incredibly patient wife...and my own Man Room). If they keep a score, if there's a winner and a loser, or if the participants stand a better than average chance of bleeding (especially that one), I'll watch it. At least once. Well, except for cricket. I'll NEVER understand cricket.