Wednesday, January 23, 2008

Panthers 5, Sens 3: Creamy Middle, Unbridled Panic Edition


"Professor, without knowing precisely what the danger is, would you say it's time for our viewers to crack each other's heads open and feast on the goo inside?"

"Yes. Yes I would, Kent."
Bryan, we gotta talk. I tried talking to John, but I don't think he's listening, so, with regret, I have no choice but to go over his head to you. The Big Enchilada. The Grande Fromage, if you will.

Now, I've put a lot of thought into this. Well, some thought. There was an isolated thought or two involved. Okay, this flashed through my mind in the millisecond between the eleventh shot of tequila and punching the nun in the face (losing to Florida does funny things to a man). But that in no way should discredit the legitimacy of this idea: We must sacrifice someone to our gods. And not just anyone, but the one person most responsible for the absolute mess our Senators have become. I'm referring, of course, to Spartacat...Wait, what? Oh, sorry, wrong note pad. I actually meant the other creepy anthropomorphic representation of a human being on our team: John Paddock.

Yes, that's right. John has to go Bryan. I know! I hate saying it as much as you hate hearing it. But consider the facts man. We started 15-2. All was sweetness and light, sunshine and lollipops. All the coach had to do was roll his lines, just like you did last year. Those lines were set in stone. The defence was an immovable paragon of...er...defensive...goodness. It was so easy, monkey butlers could have run the bench.

But John isn't a big fan of monkey butlers, is he? No, monkey butlers are definitely not THE COACH's style. When they aren't flinging poo at innocent passers by, they're stealing THE COACH's thunder. So, sometime after beating the Sabres on the 15th of November and the pregame skate before the Leafs game two nights later, THE COACH decided that he knew better. He'd show those monkey butlers! Line combinations would now be written on the back of napkins in an orgasmic frenzy of creativity, to be pulled at random throughout any given game! Except when that didn't work! Then THE COACH would put out the CASH line as often as it took to make him look good! YEAH!! That'll show 'em! Then we lost that Leafs game. Then we lost the next seven. And, of course, we know how the rest has played out. From 15-2 to 15-13-4 since. We can ugly it up even more if you like. Take out the OT/shootout losses from which we salvaged a point, and it's 15-17 since the 17th of November. That's two games under .500 Bryan.

Look, I know you guys go back a long way. But remember, this is the guy that was so successful in Winnipeg, he fired himself before the team moved to Phoenix. Before this year, he hadn't been trusted with a head coaching job (other than his minor league stints) in 13 years. And now, it looks like he's lost the team. No one knows who the hell they'll be playing with from shift to shift, or even if they'll be playing a regular shift, our goaltending has degenerated into a quivering mass of infuriated impotence, two thirds of our top line have been ridden into the ice to the point of injury, the other scorers aren't scoring, the hitters aren't hitting, and the only fights our boys ever get into happen in practice. As for answers, THE COACH can only offer petulant press conferences held for the sole purpose of publicly humiliating his players (the guy who almost decapitated Dean? Sure! Love to have him!). Enough.

As much as it pains me to say (and it does, believe me...okay, maybe not so much), you have to act. You have to act before our Cup dreams...your Cup dreams...turn to so much bile in the puke basin of a wasted season. You know what you have to do Bryan.

Fire John Paddock.

Up Next: Tomorrow night, in Tampa Bay, for (mercifully) the last game before the All Star break. Historically, these little two-game Florida trips have not been kind to us. I see no reason to hold out any hope that this will be any different. Luckily, I plan to be extremely drunk by the time the third period rolls around.

Behind Enemy Lines: I'd like to thank Bolts Blog for being our gracious, if unwitting, hosts for this one. A quick read finds a treasure trove of very knowledgeable stuff. I'll try to refrain from making light of our expansion cousins and the depth of their fans' passion. They have a banner we seem to lack, after all...JOHN.

8 comments:

Dany Heatley Speedwagon said...

Needs more nightmare ant.

Loser Domi said...

being number 1 sure is stressful, it seems...

Senators Lost Cojones said...

@ Dany Heatley Speedwagon: You're absolutely right, but I don't want to take the chance that Denton will sue my ass into the next life for some kind of copyright infringement.

@ Loser Domi: When that number 1 is produced with smoke, mirrors, and hallucinogenic pudding, it is rather stressful, I'm afraid.

Jaredoflondon said...

more with the pudding, every where I goes, someone is talking about pudding.

Senators Lost Cojones said...

Jared: I've noticed that as well. Personally, I blame Bill Cosby.

Loser Domi said...

"Professor, without knowing precisely what the danger is, would you say it's time for our viewers to crack each other's heads open and feast on the goo inside?"

Mmmmm...goo...

Jaredoflondon said...

mmmmm...free goo....

Clenbuterol said...

I see you are a fan of the Simpsons!