SBNation.com User Blog: blue with age

The End Is Nigh

blue with age — Sat, 13 Nov 2010 16:52:13 -0000

Just to recap, Grabbo weeble is a weeble based life form that plays hockey in a large North American city. He wobbles, but rarely falls down.

Meanwhile back in Minsk…..

Plans are afoot to establish the Belorusian Hockey League via the destruction of the North American league. Its strategy: establishing teams in non-traditional markets and sabotaging the game where it is already popular.

The captain co-conspirators of the mammalian conspiracy group MKG, Right Breast weeble and Left Breast weeble, had cultivated a network of sleeper agents to do their bidding.

They had also captured and imprisoned one of the few in the know, our humble Belohero Grabbo weeble and replaced him with a sucky doppleganger for an entire hockey season. While imprisoned, Grabbo weeble used his mental toughness and intangibles to ward off threats of his imminent demise, always giving 110%.

Little did he know that Big Boss Bluster weeble was using his large brain (I mean really, what do you think is under all that hair, and how does he get it all inside the bus?), his intangibles and his cup ring to hatch a plot to save our hero and restore Grabbo weeble's team to its rightful place at the centre of the hockey universe

Kule aid man, dispensing beverages to the team faithful since 1967, was dispatched to spring his oval brethren. Already aware of the plan that was afoot, the authors of the evil weeble conspiracy set their minions on his trail.

But to no avail. Well known for his mastery of a soccer ball, Kule aid man springs our hero from his desolate prison.

Finally free, Grabbo weeble picks up a newspaper and confronts the despair that has taken hold during his unwilling absence.

Disguised as spongeboobs, our heros make a bee line for Bluster weeble's office,

En route, they witness panic in the streets.

Though it kind of reminded Grabbo weeble of Christmas back home,

he began to understand the origin of fan base sentiments when he spies one of Bluster weeble's recruitement posters.

Grabbo weeble discovered that, according to local sources, many of the "sad sack" players who took the offer were not "living up" to expectations.

But Grabbo weeble was confused by the douche reference. He remembered a traditional belorusian remedy for such ailments,

But he wasn't sure how that would help the situation.

He had also heard of the availability of some great slavic hope that would save the floundering forces of all that is good, just and intangible in the world. Grabbo weeble read a profile of the player's past exploits,

but, once again, our hero was left dumbfounded and unimpressed by this option. He knew that special problems required special mesures. Plans B through J had been tried and failed, it was time to use the sekret weapon, so sekret in fact that only one kweeble was aware of its existence. And that weeble was codenamed K. Grabbo put through the call.

Grabbo weeble knew plan K was a roll of the dice, and K was also his least favourite letter of the alphabet. Who was K, and would it be enough ? To be continued....

Just to recap, Grabbo weeble is a weeble based life form that plays hockey in a large North American city. He wobbles, but rarely falls down.

Meanwhile back in Minsk…..

The captain co-conspirators of the mammalian conspiracy group MKG, Right Breast weeble and Left Breast weeble, had cultivated a network of sleeper agents to do their bidding.

But to no avail. Well known for his mastery of a soccer ball, Kule aid man springs our hero from his desolate prison.

Finally free, Grabbo weeble picks up a newspaper and confronts the despair that has taken hold during his unwilling absence.

Disguised as spongeboobs, our heros make a bee line for Bluster weeble's office,

En route, they witness panic in the streets.

Though it kind of reminded Grabbo weeble of Christmas back home,

he began to understand the origin of fan base sentiments when he spies one of Bluster weeble's recruitement posters.

Grabbo weeble discovered that, according to local sources, many of the "sad sack" players who took the offer were not "living up" to expectations.

But Grabbo weeble was confused by the douche reference. He remembered a traditional belorusian remedy for such ailments,

But he wasn't sure how that would help the situation.

Grabbo weeble knew plan K was a roll of the dice, and K was also his least favourite letter of the alphabet. Who was K, and would it be enough ? To be continued....

In the interest of heading off mass suicides, I thought it would be useful at this juncture to...

blue with age — Fri, 09 Oct 2009 17:08:00 -0000

In the interest of heading off mass suicides, I thought it would be useful at this juncture to provide a small diversion from the black cloud of impending doom that has invaded the B’sphere. Recently, An ad campaign for Labatt’s Blue was launched with billboards along the my local section of Trans-canada highway. One of them says "Blue- aussi bonne que le but d’Alain Côté" (As good as Alain Côté’s goal). A Youtube search provided this short clip. Its in french, but basically it describes a controversy around a famous playoff goal by the Nordiques against that other team down the highway that still haunts the local some 20 years after it happened. One of the protagonists will defer your attention, if just for a moment, from the turpeur that presently threatens the B’sphere’s mortal coil.

Grabbo gets schooled-a weeble annual

blue with age — Tue, 01 Sep 2009 16:22:18 -0000

Grabbo would like to thank all the blogging illuminati who inadvertently (or vertently) contributed to the creation of this annual. Because of the value of his recent contract, our hero is offering this annual free of charge to all who care.

For the uninitiated, Grabbo is a hockey player in a large North American city who wobbles but does not fall down. He works for the forces of all that is good in hockey to prevent a evil plot by left and right breast weebles to establish the pre-eminence of the BHL.

Our story resumes at Grabbo manor.

via i560.photobucket.com

Grabbo has just returned home after a morning of shilling for large Belarusian blimp manufacturer.

via i560.photobucket.com

He is relaxing by filling in a crossword puzzle to improve his English.

via i560.photobucket.com

His peaceful afternoon is interrupted by a communication from Poney's hand. The forces of evil have made a pact with Wanted weeble.

via i560.photobucket.com

Their joint venture has served to refinance the forces of evil with the help of a new product that is quite popular in certain locales.

via i560.photobucket.com

Their new tactic is to populate the hockey world with Grabbo replacements and put them in compromising situations.

via i560.photobucket.com

Though Grabbo is impressed by the hairstyles of certain doubles,

via i560.photobucket.com

he can't help but notice that they have --- Legs!!! Grabbo and Poney's hand concurr, the asses of evil now included the evil forces of Legotown with their exceptional drafting record, their love of all things octopus and their urban sensibilities.

via i560.photobucket.com

It seemed that their evil leader, LeggoFraser was back in business.

via i560.photobucket.com

Luckily, explained Poney's hand, he can be tracked by the corrective lens he affects,

via i560.photobucket.com

and the distinct smell of his hair tonic.

via i560.photobucket.com

Grabbo wonders what their next step will be. He explains to Poney's hand that any response by the forces of all that is good in the world will have to wait. Grabbo has received a memo from Burke weeble to report to his office.

via i560.photobucket.com

Grabbo is surprised by the playoff optimism of the memo and gets very excited about the upcoming season and all his new teammates. Especially all those scandinavian dudes who St-Niklas weeble has convinced to return to their rightful home,

via i560.photobucket.com

that crazy new back-up goalie, Hamburgler weeble, seen here hoarding puck as he is wont to,

via i560.photobucket.com

a certain Stepniak weeble,

via i560.photobucket.com

Destroyer-of-permanent-ability-to-make-the-simple-decision-to-continue-playing-or-not weeble,

via i560.photobucket.com

and especially all those crazy college kids. He fondly remembered them from his time on another team.

Oh, the hazing rituals,

via i560.photobucket.com

their solidarity,

via i560.photobucket.com

and their crazy drinking games.

via i560.photobucket.com

Ever cognizant of Poney's warnings, Grabbo decides to have someone from the team accompany him on his trip to meet with the boss. Grabbo chooses Mitchell weeble, seen here disguised as Stajan weeble.

via i560.photobucket.com

While mild mannered in appearance, piss him off and he becomes Cap'n fucking mayhem weeble

via i560.photobucket.com

who, in the absence of a real captain on his team, dares anyone to challenge his on-ice authority with a simple, yet effective response:

via i560.photobucket.com

Poney's hand liked the choice. He knew that Grabbo had a weakness for the russian girls,

via i560.photobucket.com

and was looking for some more loving lovin', along the lines of what another teammate was getting from the fan base.

via i560.photobucket.com

Though Grabbo suspected these ones were a little top heavy for his standards of equilibrium, he knew all the same that Cap'n fucking mayhem, as team pirate, was well trained to spot a situation suited to the deployment of left breast and right breast weebles' favorite method of exploiting Grabbo's weakness: the poison boobie.

via i560.photobucket.com

Alas, the trip passed without incident. Safely arrived at the appointed destination, Grabbo and the Cap'n headed to the boss's office.

via i560.photobucket.com

It was eerily dark, but Grabbo noticed a light switch next to the door.

via i560.photobucket.com

Grabbo laughed at the joke, it was probably some kind of training exercise. They entered, but this was Nebraska, not Kansas.

via i560.photobucket.com

The boys helplessly looked on as they saw the asses of evil preparing for the new season.

via i560.photobucket.com

To be continued....

Our story resumes at Grabbo manor.

via i560.photobucket.com

Grabbo has just returned home after a morning of shilling for large Belarusian blimp manufacturer.

via i560.photobucket.com

He is relaxing by filling in a crossword puzzle to improve his English.

via i560.photobucket.com

His peaceful afternoon is interrupted by a communication from Poney's hand. The forces of evil have made a pact with Wanted weeble.

via i560.photobucket.com

Their joint venture has served to refinance the forces of evil with the help of a new product that is quite popular in certain locales.

via i560.photobucket.com

Their new tactic is to populate the hockey world with Grabbo replacements and put them in compromising situations.

via i560.photobucket.com

Though Grabbo is impressed by the hairstyles of certain doubles,

via i560.photobucket.com

It seemed that their evil leader, LeggoFraser was back in business.

via i560.photobucket.com

Luckily, explained Poney's hand, he can be tracked by the corrective lens he affects,

via i560.photobucket.com

and the distinct smell of his hair tonic.

via i560.photobucket.com

that crazy new back-up goalie, Hamburgler weeble, seen here hoarding puck as he is wont to,

via i560.photobucket.com

a certain Stepniak weeble,

via i560.photobucket.com

Destroyer-of-permanent-ability-to-make-the-simple-decision-to-continue-playing-or-not weeble,

via i560.photobucket.com

and especially all those crazy college kids. He fondly remembered them from his time on another team.

Oh, the hazing rituals,

via i560.photobucket.com

their solidarity,

via i560.photobucket.com

and their crazy drinking games.

via i560.photobucket.com

Ever cognizant of Poney's warnings, Grabbo decides to have someone from the team accompany him on his trip to meet with the boss. Grabbo chooses Mitchell weeble, seen here disguised as Stajan weeble.

via i560.photobucket.com

While mild mannered in appearance, piss him off and he becomes Cap'n fucking mayhem weeble

via i560.photobucket.com

who, in the absence of a real captain on his team, dares anyone to challenge his on-ice authority with a simple, yet effective response:

via i560.photobucket.com

Poney's hand liked the choice. He knew that Grabbo had a weakness for the russian girls,

via i560.photobucket.com

and was looking for some more loving lovin', along the lines of what another teammate was getting from the fan base.

via i560.photobucket.com

Alas, the trip passed without incident. Safely arrived at the appointed destination, Grabbo and the Cap'n headed to the boss's office.

via i560.photobucket.com

It was eerily dark, but Grabbo noticed a light switch next to the door.

via i560.photobucket.com

Grabbo laughed at the joke, it was probably some kind of training exercise. They entered, but this was Nebraska, not Kansas.

via i560.photobucket.com

The boys helplessly looked on as they saw the asses of evil preparing for the new season.

via i560.photobucket.com

To be continued....

Of Mice and Men

blue with age — Thu, 30 Jul 2009 19:10:34 -0000

Grabbo weeble is a professional hockey player in a large North American city. He wobbles but does not fall down.

via i560.photobucket.com

Recently Grabbo has been enlisted by the forces of good hockey to combat evil elements that want to promote bad hockey. A fail of epic proportions for the North American league would pave the way to world hockey domination by the BHL.

Recent initiatives by these forces or evil have not had the desired effect.

via i560.photobucket.com

Money is tight and certain members of the asses of evil have resorted to Molson money to pay their players

to suck.

via 1.bp.blogspot.com

The evil henchmen, right and left breast weeble, have resorted to internet scams to pay for their dirty deeds.

via www.image-upload.net

Internecine bickering has limited their evil doing.

via i560.photobucket.com

Meanwhile, elsewhere in Minsk, Grabbo has been enjoying the fruits of his labour. Grabbing himself a little bling

via i560.photobucket.com

and getting some ink done.

via i560.photobucket.com

Despite his recent success at foiling the evil plots of the evil doing evil doers, Grabbo has trouble sitting still. Life at Grabbo mansion has been difficult for our hero due to ongoing nightmares.

via i560.photobucket.com

But Grabbo, upon waking, is perplexed as to the source of his malaise. A look at the team of evil weebles from the island of ice built on sepia toned past glories and overinflated self importance reveals a seemingly harmless opponent.

via 1.bp.blogspot.com

Some kind of evil magic must be at work (and not the kind that powers the features of this website). This frightens Grabbo even more. He must prepare for the next meeting between the forces of good and evil. Checking out the profiles of several of his new team mates leads Grabbo to believe that he may have to bulk up a little.

via i17.photobucket.com

Somewhat wary of plane travel, Grabbo take the first charter out to his team's practice facility

via i560.photobucket.com

On the tarmac, Grabbo is uncertain of which dirigible is his ride. Closer investigation reveals his team's transportation.

via i560.photobucket.com

Despite his trepidation of boarding a balloon that boldly defies the laws of apostrification, he quickly settles in and takes the time to consult the instructions in the seat back in front of him.

via i560.photobucket.com

Always cognizant of the need to measure the external validity of scientific generalities due to the impossibility of ceteris paribus, Grabbo compares this plan with the one he was given whilst assimilated by the evil weeble collective.

via i560.photobucket.com

Grabbo quickly adopts the plan disseminated by the forces of all that is good in the world and after just 20 minutes a day, 3 times a week, Grabbo is good to go.

via i560.photobucket.com

But there's more to Grabbo than just pretty haircut, a soft pair of hands and his crazy delicious lack of judgement. He was still haunted by those nightmares and began to wonder who could help him put a couple biscuits in the basket.

This guy was possible,

via i560.photobucket.com

But he kind of reminded Grabbo of this ass kisser he once knew.

via i560.photobucket.com

Grabbo saw some real promise in this guy and his weeble back up power source. Grabbo was especially interested in meeting the MILF, he has a weakness for redheads

via www.cyberpresse.ca

Most intriguing however was this Kadri weeble, whose father and his story had been immortalized on the $5 bill, in film and in print. Grabbo was anxious to help the boy with his work out plan.

via dailydujour.com

But Grabbo's joy was short lived. Pony's hand had sent word that Grabbo was needed to fight the good fight.....

Grabbo weeble is a professional hockey player in a large North American city. He wobbles but does not fall down.

via i560.photobucket.com

Recent initiatives by these forces or evil have not had the desired effect.

via i560.photobucket.com

Money is tight and certain members of the asses of evil have resorted to Molson money to pay their players

to suck.

via 1.bp.blogspot.com

The evil henchmen, right and left breast weeble, have resorted to internet scams to pay for their dirty deeds.

via www.image-upload.net

Internecine bickering has limited their evil doing.

via i560.photobucket.com

Meanwhile, elsewhere in Minsk, Grabbo has been enjoying the fruits of his labour. Grabbing himself a little bling

via i560.photobucket.com

and getting some ink done.

via i560.photobucket.com

Despite his recent success at foiling the evil plots of the evil doing evil doers, Grabbo has trouble sitting still. Life at Grabbo mansion has been difficult for our hero due to ongoing nightmares.

via i560.photobucket.com

via 1.bp.blogspot.com

via i17.photobucket.com

Somewhat wary of plane travel, Grabbo take the first charter out to his team's practice facility

via i560.photobucket.com

On the tarmac, Grabbo is uncertain of which dirigible is his ride. Closer investigation reveals his team's transportation.

via i560.photobucket.com

Despite his trepidation of boarding a balloon that boldly defies the laws of apostrification, he quickly settles in and takes the time to consult the instructions in the seat back in front of him.

via i560.photobucket.com

Grabbo quickly adopts the plan disseminated by the forces of all that is good in the world and after just 20 minutes a day, 3 times a week, Grabbo is good to go.

via i560.photobucket.com

This guy was possible,

via i560.photobucket.com

But he kind of reminded Grabbo of this ass kisser he once knew.

via i560.photobucket.com

Grabbo saw some real promise in this guy and his weeble back up power source. Grabbo was especially interested in meeting the MILF, he has a weakness for redheads

via www.cyberpresse.ca

Most intriguing however was this Kadri weeble, whose father and his story had been immortalized on the $5 bill, in film and in print. Grabbo was anxious to help the boy with his work out plan.

via dailydujour.com

But Grabbo's joy was short lived. Pony's hand had sent word that Grabbo was needed to fight the good fight.....

Bettman, pissing people off worldwide

blue with age — Wed, 20 May 2009 14:39:26 -0000

Making the news here in Quebec City this morning are the possibly dubious claims of a certain russian gazillionaire. The local interest in the story is due to Alexander Medvedev's previously expressed desire to bring an NHL team back here. Seems Gary told him that being Russian disqualifies him from playing in Gary's sandbox. Does Gary also secretly wear his Grandma's curtains? Does ownership of an NHL team involve the of respect of some kind of 'code'?

Truth is Stranger than Fiction

blue with age — Sat, 16 May 2009 17:54:56 -0000

Just to recap, Grabbo weeble is a weeble based life form that plays hockey in a large North American city. He wobbles, but rarely falls down.

Grabbo weeble is returning from a stint as the Belarusian hockey team at the world championships. He has grown a powerful moustache, giving him the ability to play all 6 positions at once.

At the airport, a curious group that call themselves the Muskoka 5 greet him. They look, smell and talk like hockey playing weebles, but Grabbo weeble is still a little wary of them.

via i203.photobucket.com

They encourage him to drag out his contract negotiations, go for the no trade clause then suck as no player has sucked before.

Grabbo is shocked by such talk and quickly touches base with his boss Burke weeble, fresh from his stint as the American IHC entry.

via miasmaticreview.mu.nu

Burke weeble tells him they should meet in person to talk. Grabbo hops the next plane to Big North American City.

While Grabbo dreams about watching his favorite team the Minsk Voltigeurs hoist the Memorial Cup, Grabbo’s plane is blown from the sky en route to his meeting.

via i560.photobucket.com

Luckily, weebles are encapsulated in plastic and float.

He is saved by Wellwood weeble, who was in the neighborhood transporting the Failville ‘wish we knew about jets’ Spitfires to their glorious defeat in the same tournament.

via www.sportsbubbler.com

WW informs Grabbo about the conspiracy he has unwillingly become a part of. ‘See, if I give 10%, 100% of the time, that makes 110% and then they blame the goalie. For the drug addled fans in my town…’

Meanwhile back in Minsk…..

The captain co-conspirators of the mammalian conspiracy group MCG, Right Breast weeble and Left Breast weeble, had cultivated a network of sleeper agents to do their bidding

via i560.photobucket.com

*Q - What's the dickhead for?

*A. Not to let the hand to slide off

The key agents were Gary and Ace. The MCG had identified the ability of Gary weeble, even at a young age, to encourage bad judgment among the hockey elite.

via i560.photobucket.com

Other agents included Garth Snow

via i560.photobucket.com

Boots, the guys in Tampa, the Detroit police force, and enemas everywhere to which the MCG had a statue commissioned

via englishrussia.com

Weeble pods clones were also grown in a pen outside Viking, Alberta to take the place of players who always respect the ‘code’.

via turbid.com

In traditional hockey markets, they would be programmed to be ‘good guys’ that suck. In non-traditional markets they would be the franchise saviors that give unbridled hope to an ephemeral fan base, who then later suck at the requisite moment, breaking the hearts of said fan base.

They could be identified by their colorful attire, their Ben Affleck facial hair configurations and their hate of any Minsk based hockey teams. A faceoff with Grabbo was surely in the cards.

via www.kitchencontraptions.com

But, the only entity capable of positively identifying the evildoers was Pony’s Hand!

via i560.photobucket.com

And all sides wanted to get their hands on the Hand..

Just to recap, Grabbo weeble is a weeble based life form that plays hockey in a large North American city. He wobbles, but rarely falls down.

Grabbo weeble is returning from a stint as the Belarusian hockey team at the world championships. He has grown a powerful moustache, giving him the ability to play all 6 positions at once.

At the airport, a curious group that call themselves the Muskoka 5 greet him. They look, smell and talk like hockey playing weebles, but Grabbo weeble is still a little wary of them.

via i203.photobucket.com

They encourage him to drag out his contract negotiations, go for the no trade clause then suck as no player has sucked before.

Grabbo is shocked by such talk and quickly touches base with his boss Burke weeble, fresh from his stint as the American IHC entry.

via miasmaticreview.mu.nu

Burke weeble tells him they should meet in person to talk. Grabbo hops the next plane to Big North American City.

While Grabbo dreams about watching his favorite team the Minsk Voltigeurs hoist the Memorial Cup, Grabbo’s plane is blown from the sky en route to his meeting.

via i560.photobucket.com

Luckily, weebles are encapsulated in plastic and float.

He is saved by Wellwood weeble, who was in the neighborhood transporting the Failville ‘wish we knew about jets’ Spitfires to their glorious defeat in the same tournament.

via www.sportsbubbler.com

Meanwhile back in Minsk…..

The captain co-conspirators of the mammalian conspiracy group MCG, Right Breast weeble and Left Breast weeble, had cultivated a network of sleeper agents to do their bidding

via i560.photobucket.com

*Q - What's the dickhead for?

*A. Not to let the hand to slide off

The key agents were Gary and Ace. The MCG had identified the ability of Gary weeble, even at a young age, to encourage bad judgment among the hockey elite.

via i560.photobucket.com

Other agents included Garth Snow

via i560.photobucket.com

Boots, the guys in Tampa, the Detroit police force, and enemas everywhere to which the MCG had a statue commissioned

via englishrussia.com

Weeble pods clones were also grown in a pen outside Viking, Alberta to take the place of players who always respect the ‘code’.

via turbid.com

They could be identified by their colorful attire, their Ben Affleck facial hair configurations and their hate of any Minsk based hockey teams. A faceoff with Grabbo was surely in the cards.

via www.kitchencontraptions.com

But, the only entity capable of positively identifying the evildoers was Pony’s Hand!

via i560.photobucket.com

And all sides wanted to get their hands on the Hand..

Didomenico Breaks Femur

blue with age — Wed, 06 May 2009 12:47:58 -0000

The recently signed Leaf prospect was cross checked trying to touch the puck on an icing call in the first period of the third game of the Q league final last night. He was taken off the ice on a stretcher and admitted to hospital. According to his coach, (article in French) Didomenico , despite his extreme pain, repeated over and over while prone on the ice "je veux la game" to his team mates. I'm sure you can translate. If he recovers, I think this is the kind of character that we want on our team. Drummondville now leads the series 2-1.

PPP Update: Here is a CP article for you Anglos.

Bandwagonning made easy

blue with age — Thu, 30 Apr 2009 18:45:01 -0000

Kyle Wellwood prepares himself for tonight's game

via www.ultimatehockeyshow.com

As the playoffs progress, the bandwagon choices start to involve unpleasant smells and selective memories. Always ready to serve the Barilkosphere, I offer you a team to which you may offer your temporary love. Submitted for your approval, the Drummondville Voltigeurs. The Voltigeurs take their name from a brigade formed during the war of 1812 (the one where we burned down the White House). Made up of of local colonists and natives, the Voltigeurs successfully repelled 3 American attempts to take Montréal. This year, a Voltigeurs hockey team that finished last season with a meager total of 33 points, led the Q with 112 points, a record year over year improvement for Canadian junior hockey. So far in the playoffs, they are unbeaten in 12 games and will meet the Cataractes in the league final starting May 1. As a booty call team, very similar in several ways to our main blue and white squeeze, they provide an example of the future we all hope for and how to get there.

So how did they do it? First off they decided that last season was going to be a long one. Instead of trading draft choices for more veteran talent to win a few more games, coach Guy Boucher and GM Dominic Ricard decided to play the kids and made 17 year old Marc-Olivier Vachon their captain. They knew it would amount to suicide in terms of team success, but believed the experience would be beneficial for the young players. This year began with a search for a few veteran players who could score. Taking advantage of a nightmarishly good power play, Yannick Riendeau (a Boston prospect) went from 49 points last year in Rouyn to 126 points this year in Drummond (hopefully he will suck for the Bruins), and Dany Massé (certain to choke as a Mtl prospect) increased his 79 point total in Bathurst last year to 110 on this year’s Drummond squad. In the first 8 games of playoffs, the power play was at 42.7% efficiency, accounting for 60 goals.

We are also talking about a team that rarely quits, starting with a management that was not content to rest on its laurels as success became evident during the regular season. A playmaking threat in the form of Christopher DiDomenico, an Ontario exile who had to go to the Q to prove he could still play, was added to an powerhouse offense late in the season. We should draft him. This relentless pursuit of victory was also shown in the Rimouski series. Despite the best efforts of Luca Cunti (am I alone in hoping that a hapless play-by-play guy is forced to describe some kind on-ice aggression between the Tampa prospect and Philadelphia’s up and coming James van Riemsdyk? - No matter how you pronounce the latter), Drummondville was unstoppable, stretching their playoff winning streak to 10 straight by overcoming a 3 goal deficit in the last 7 minutes of the 3rd period, including the winning goal with 17 seconds to go.

Nothing lessens booty call guilt, or remorse as the case may be, like the come back kid story of Mike Hoffman. Cut last year by both his hometown team in Kitchener and then Gatineau, Hoffman proved he could still score in Drummondville. He has also stepped it up a notch for the playoffs and is now 4th in the league in playoff scoring. In an effort to make a subtly obnoxious suggestion, I will note that he is undrafted and does not appear among the top 200 junior prospects. All agree however, that the principal cog in the machine is a defenseman, Dimitri Kulikov. As an assistant to Pat Quinn at the world U18 tournament, coach Boucher first began courting Kulikov to get him to play in Drummondville. By moving up in the draft, Drummond took Kulikov second overall, just behind Nikita Filatov. Kulikov is a nasty piece of Russian engineering, a + 34 that averaged a point a game during the regular season. Another guy who keeps the pedal to the metal, he is mean, fast and disciplined, with a knack for getting the puck to the net though traffic. In the 4th and final game of the 3rd round series against Rimouski that set the unbeaten streak at 12, Kulikov had 3 points and was 1st star of the game. Imagine him paired with OLAS; the opposing team’s trainer will need a back up supply of Depends for those who dare to cross our blue line.

Let’s be realistic, the Q is not the NHL. Any league that allows the Montréal team to name itself les Juniors, or the MAINEiacs of Lewiston, (no that’s not a typo), or a certain former NHL goalie to use his son as a backup goalie who smashes all the toilets in the dressing room after his dad pulls him for sucking so bad in one of the three games he appeared in all year then goes on to a rap career where he sings about how he was so misunderstood when his dad told him to beat the shit out of the opposing goaltender the year before…. well let’s just say that the cheese is not just in the poutine and forms a trail that leads all the way to the Bell Centre. But the Voltigeurs provide a rags to riches tale that inspires, and we can cheer (a) Leaf prospect(s?) in a way that allows us to move on after the excitement without strings. The coach is also a kind of fucking nutbar who forbids anyone involved with the team to say anything that may be construed as expressing doubt. Nonetheless, a Memorial Cup match in Rimouski between Drummond and Windsor might just be the best 18-15 game ever played, with or without Luca Cunti. So, let’s go les boys, lâchez pas.

Kyle Wellwood prepares himself for tonight's game

via www.ultimatehockeyshow.com

In search of sisu weeble

blue with age — Thu, 23 Apr 2009 16:19:08 -0000

To recap, Grabbo weeble is a likeable hockey player in a large North American city. He wobbles but rarely falls down.

via i43.photobucket.com

After a stellar rookie season, he returns a hero to his native country. Parades are launched in his honour and Grabbo weeble day is declared

via farm4.static.flickr.com

But Grabbo quickly tires of the celebrity life

and a downward spiral of debauchery ensues

via img.photobucket.com

Grabbo consults with the hockey oracle of Minsk

via www.ironrange.org

The oracle tells him to seek out sisu weeble to find the true meaning of life. It is rumoured that sisu weeble goes by the alias of Saku and is keen on giving advice to other hockey players. Grabbo sets out on his pilgrimage to sisu weeble's last known home in Montréal.

via www.hasbro.com

Grabbo feels uneasy in a place that looks so familiar, like he's been here before

via www.cartoonstock.com

Sisu weeble is not to be found, apparently disappearing after the season that was

via i105.photobucket.com

While still at the rink, Grabbo happened upon team ownership

they told him that sisu weeble had retired sometime during the season and had returned to his native land. Grabbo hopped on the first plane out, as team ownership seemed happy to see him go.

via i57.photobucket.com

Weeble searched sisuville in vain for his guru

via i18.photobucket.com

After a furious search, Grabbo finds Sisu weeble at a baltic resort

via www.boingboing.net

The guru responds that Grabbo should retire to the good life like he did halfway through last season. It is important however, to always look emotionally distraught when talking to the media so they don't find out about your stategy.

Grabbo is unsure how to respond

via www.csdl.tamu.edu

More troubled than ever, Grabbo returns to his native land.

to be continued....

To recap, Grabbo weeble is a likeable hockey player in a large North American city. He wobbles but rarely falls down.

via i43.photobucket.com

After a stellar rookie season, he returns a hero to his native country. Parades are launched in his honour and Grabbo weeble day is declared

via farm4.static.flickr.com

But Grabbo quickly tires of the celebrity life

and a downward spiral of debauchery ensues

via img.photobucket.com

Grabbo consults with the hockey oracle of Minsk

via www.ironrange.org

via www.hasbro.com

Grabbo feels uneasy in a place that looks so familiar, like he's been here before

via www.cartoonstock.com

Sisu weeble is not to be found, apparently disappearing after the season that was

via i105.photobucket.com

While still at the rink, Grabbo happened upon team ownership

they told him that sisu weeble had retired sometime during the season and had returned to his native land. Grabbo hopped on the first plane out, as team ownership seemed happy to see him go.

via i57.photobucket.com

Weeble searched sisuville in vain for his guru

via i18.photobucket.com

After a furious search, Grabbo finds Sisu weeble at a baltic resort

via www.boingboing.net

Grabbo is unsure how to respond

via www.csdl.tamu.edu

More troubled than ever, Grabbo returns to his native land.

to be continued....

An Easter Tale

blue with age — Thu, 09 Apr 2009 18:35:52 -0000

Meet Grabbo Weeble. Once upon a time a young weeble was playing his favorite game in a shithole named Montréal.

(any resemblance, real or intended, to any other resurection parable is stricly the fault of Bob Gainey)

Grabbo weeble is particularly irascible, and his old coach Bo weevil, didn't like him.

It should be noted that Weebles wobble but they don't fall down, even when giants try to squish their heads. This makes them particularly suited to playing hockey.

For the statistically inclined among you, here's scientific proof

Once on a trip through the desert with his team, things went sour

His "friends" chased him out of town, telling him he will never score 20 goals

Grabbo weeble got sent to a new team

His new team is owned by a gargantuan pension fun that likes to heard sheep (and eat them too apparently)

And next year, they're gonna show Grabbo Weeble the money

The End

Joyeuses Pâques

Meet Grabbo Weeble. Once upon a time a young weeble was playing his favorite game in a shithole named Montréal.

(any resemblance, real or intended, to any other resurection parable is stricly the fault of Bob Gainey)

Grabbo weeble is particularly irascible, and his old coach Bo weevil, didn't like him.

It should be noted that Weebles wobble but they don't fall down, even when giants try to squish their heads. This makes them particularly suited to playing hockey.

For the statistically inclined among you, here's scientific proof

Once on a trip through the desert with his team, things went sour

His "friends" chased him out of town, telling him he will never score 20 goals

Grabbo weeble got sent to a new team

His new team is owned by a gargantuan pension fun that likes to heard sheep (and eat them too apparently)

And next year, they're gonna show Grabbo Weeble the money

The End

Joyeuses Pâques

News from the Q

blue with age — Sat, 17 Jan 2009 18:10:03 -0000

Editor's Note: blue with age decided to take advantage of a meeting of two of Toronto's better offensive prospects and made his way down to the Remparts/Drummondville game. Here is his report on Mikhail Stafanovich and Chris DiDomenico.

Last night I ventured out in the insanely cold night with 14000 other insane people to watch a Remparts/Drummond game. In our barn, the beer is priced ($4.25) just slightly higher than bottled water and the sushi is called poutine ($6). Though I have seen our boy Stefanovich before this was the first time I have seen DiDomenico live.

Tall, yet invisible, Stefanovich seems to often be in the right place at the right time to pot a goal. Which he did at even strength last night from the edge of the crease. He is big enough, fast enough and has the hands to play in the big show. The only question is whether he can do it right away. Think Pony (both positive and negative aspects). Personally, I can hardly wait for the tag team wrestlemania cage match featuring our belarusians versus theirs (you know who you are). Speaking of the negative side, being invisible is not always an asset when it means do-nothing-invisible. Plus, King Patrick had to actually go to Belarus (undoubtably with persuasive pineapples and sharp knives) to convince his parents to let Steffy come here. He will always be a higher maintenance player. Though hats off to the parents for making the crazy, wifebeating father of two junior rapping wifebeaters-in-training jump though hoops to get his way instead of just pouting in the local newspaper that he would take a back seat to anyone that would like to take his place knowing full well that the fawning over him of the said local population is the source of his hard-ons (in addition to wifebeating of course).

DiDomenico was recently traded to his new team. I hesitate using the nick name Dido, one typo away from being more news than I need to know. The PA announcer last night referred to him as Christophe (see previous sentence). Drummondville is now third overall in the Q (after last night) and DiDomenico is 1 of their 2 NHL drafted players - Quebec has 7. (Note to overcrowded TML executive suite - Please, please don't draft Tardif the goalie). DiDomenico has grown quite a bit in the recent past, so he is a thin guy. It is not surprising then that he is easily moved off the puck for now (including an awesome open ice hit last night that put him on his ass). On the positive side, he can play a role. This was not he same guy that set up Tavares over xmas. All his points last night (1g2a) were from the lip of the crease and he has a mean streak, probably from being pushed around when he was a smaller water bug. He was definitely the best player on his team last night, as well as the most penalized, and can evidently make an impact.

Overall, both players seem to be prospects that have yet to prove they can make the jump up. But good hands can't be taught, whether they develop with us or serve as trade bait.

Joyeuses Fêtes

blue with age — Wed, 24 Dec 2008 19:09:53 -0000

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house

  Not a creature was stirring, apart from Blakie doing roundabouts;  

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,  

Impaled to the mantel by Wilson’s cold, icy stare;  

The boys were nestled all snug in their beds,  

While visions of Stanley cups danced in their heads;  

And mamma, dressed in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,  

Had just settled down for a long winter's “nap”,  

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,  

I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.  

Away to the gondola I flew like a flash,  

Tore open the shutters and threw out my stash.  

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow

  Gave the luster of mid-day to the boys playing below,  

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,  

But a miniature sleigh, and trade bait with beer,  

With a little old captain, so lively and quick,  

I knew in a moment it must be Hagman, St. Nick.  

More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,  

And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;

  "Now, Pony! Now, Schendel! Now, Antro and Frogenthor!  

On, Kulemin! on Finger and Moustache! On Dominic Moore!  

To the front of the net! Crush all those found along the wall!

Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"  

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,  

When they meet with an Crosby, they just make him cry,  

So up to playoff contention the coursers they flew,  

With the sleigh full of puck-moving defensemen, and Pogge too.  

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the grate  

The prancing and pawing of each little skate.  

As I drew plays in my hand, and was turning around,

Down the chimney Burke came with a bound.  

He was dressed all in duck fur, from his head to his foot,  

And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;  

A sac full of dreams he had flung on his back,  

And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.  

His eyes -- how they twinkled! His dimples how merry!  

His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a berry!  

His droll little mouth was drawn up in a smile,  

And his plans allowed us to all forget about Mats and Kyle;  

The stump of a stick he held tight in his teeth,  

And the ice chips encircled his head like a wreath;  

He had a broad face and a big round belly,  

That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.  

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,  

And I laughed at that belly full ‘o draft choices, in spite of myself;  

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,  

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;  

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,  

And filled all the stockings; then turned towards Cherry the jerk,  

And flipping him the finger aside of his nose,  

And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;  

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,  

And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.  

But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,

"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night."

And as the Baby Jesus said, "It's just a game for fuck sakes, channel the energy of your anger towards the resolution of more pressing problems in the world."

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house

  Not a creature was stirring, apart from Blakie doing roundabouts;  

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,  

Impaled to the mantel by Wilson’s cold, icy stare;  

The boys were nestled all snug in their beds,  

While visions of Stanley cups danced in their heads;  

And mamma, dressed in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,  

Had just settled down for a long winter's “nap”,  

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,  

I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.  

Away to the gondola I flew like a flash,  

Tore open the shutters and threw out my stash.  

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow

  Gave the luster of mid-day to the boys playing below,  

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,  

But a miniature sleigh, and trade bait with beer,  

With a little old captain, so lively and quick,  

I knew in a moment it must be Hagman, St. Nick.  

More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,  

And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;

  "Now, Pony! Now, Schendel! Now, Antro and Frogenthor!  

On, Kulemin! on Finger and Moustache! On Dominic Moore!  

To the front of the net! Crush all those found along the wall!

Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"  

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,  

When they meet with an Crosby, they just make him cry,  

So up to playoff contention the coursers they flew,  

With the sleigh full of puck-moving defensemen, and Pogge too.  

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the grate  

The prancing and pawing of each little skate.  

As I drew plays in my hand, and was turning around,

Down the chimney Burke came with a bound.  

He was dressed all in duck fur, from his head to his foot,  

And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;  

A sac full of dreams he had flung on his back,  

And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.  

His eyes -- how they twinkled! His dimples how merry!  

His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a berry!  

His droll little mouth was drawn up in a smile,  

And his plans allowed us to all forget about Mats and Kyle;  

The stump of a stick he held tight in his teeth,  

And the ice chips encircled his head like a wreath;  

He had a broad face and a big round belly,  

That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.  

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,  

And I laughed at that belly full ‘o draft choices, in spite of myself;  

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,  

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;  

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,  

And filled all the stockings; then turned towards Cherry the jerk,  

And flipping him the finger aside of his nose,  

And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;  

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,  

And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.  

But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,

"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night."

And as the Baby Jesus said, "It's just a game for fuck sakes, channel the energy of your anger towards the resolution of more pressing problems in the world."

Statistical Minutiae

blue with age — Fri, 12 Dec 2008 18:19:13 -0000

As someone who makes a living being a contrarian, I thought it might be useful for members of the Barilkosphere to have their own version of Moneyball, its measures of success and its incredibly fucked up acronyms that lend it a sense of legitimacy and importance in the eyes of some. Charting our path towards eventual domination of the NHL can give us hope and divert our attention from the crushing failure that we have all come to know and love. To this end, I would like to suggest:

The GPS, or goalies pulled statistic. The Catholic Church has determined that pulling your goalie can lead to blindness and we are the Vatican of hockey. If you are blind, not paying attention to the objective at hand or have pulled your goalie, you are probably self-absorbed and/or your attention has been focused on something other than the game that you are playing (like himself, for example). So, if you must pull your goalie, you are not winning at any game that I can think of, and close only counts in horseshoes. As an indicator of general team suckiness, the GPS can also allow us to locate the principal perpetrators of this suckiness. If a player is fist pumping after meaningless goals, his GPS is probably very high and it is a good idea that this player keeps his head up…. or maybe not.

The PTTB is an indicator of pugnacity, testosterone, truculence and belligerence. Also known as the Were hE Not here, Damn we would have Excelled as being Losers, AKA the WENDEL. With all due respect to the Gordie Howe hat trick, Gordie’s godless elbows simply instilled fear in the opponent. But many people actually enjoy fear. The PTTB is a measure of the capacity of a player to demand unconditional surrender. Pugnacity is a function of the amount of blood punched out (to a maximum of 8 litres), testosterone is measured by offspring sired, truculence by the number of savage hits meted out and belligerence by the number of game winning, equalizing or go ahead goals scored. Add them together, hire a good athletic therapist and anyway you look at it, it’s a handsome number.

The FWFT statistic. or the fuck the wife and you fuck the team. AKA, the Iafrate. This is a proxy measure of team solidarity, according to which if you’re diddlin’ a teammate’s wife, the team’s fortunes tend to tank and trade action is immanent. This can also be used to measure the ability to diminish the solidarity of the other team if the teammate has a brother who plays for another team and thought he had dibs on his brother’s wife. Boasting about one’s FWFT, in combination with an elevated GPS, can also provide an alternate method of determining of just how big a dick the player is, and how much he is compensating for other limitations. I mean they have a thing for hockey players and went elsewhere right? But I digress.

The PBPH, or Post event Boasting that Proves you have 20\20 Hindsight. AKA the Cherry, or the Eklund. Though useless as a predictor, it can confirm your "common sense". The instances where this measure might prove useful often coincide with a sudden newfound ability to pronounce a European sounding name, or the beating to death of the one occasion where you may have a valid point. Essentially, It is a statistic that mathematically models the maxim that if you spew enough bullshit, eventually one of your chestnuts will be vindicated by actual events. Much like a car wreck, we have a lot of difficulty to just look away. But, in cases where such effluent is negative towards one’s team, the PBPH indicates that our guys have their eye on the prize and that they have either delegated the ass kissing to other very capable people, or have chosen to look away and not base their decisions on a lucky guess.

Habs Hatred

blue with age — Fri, 05 Dec 2008 18:57:22 -0000

As the Christmas season approaches, this may be my last chance to express negative karma before the new year. Living with five females often prohibits me from being cranky without a solid reason (basically limited to PMS in my household). Alas, a fanpost seems to be in order. In the spirit of airing of grievances, the recent 100 (sic) years of Habs history celebrations is really beginning to grate on me. Every where I look in my neck of the woods there are Kovy DVD’s, commemorative box sets, limitless takes on the design of the Hab’s jersey, those little fucking flags that people fly from their cars, future son-in-laws managing to mention 1967 in a conversation with me even though they were 5 the last time the Habs won a cup, and in general, the untenable hubris and sense of entitlement- Ohh the horror of it all. And I live 2 ½ hours up the road from Montréal and its bandwagon of "loyal" fans.

via denis-au-quebec.ublog.com

Last Monday night, I visited the Bell centre to take in a concert. And that was when it all became just too much to bear. So, here are the top reasons why I hate the Habs. (I am just too pissed to rank them, feel free to do it or add your own)

1) I parked my car downtown on Monday night because I always miss the exit for the Metro. I ended up parking on rue Stanley. And it leads directly to the Bell Centre.

2) On the night we feted Wendel, One of my daughters politely sat through the 5 hour coronation of King Patrick with her future family-in-law (and their Hab’s PJ’s with feet). When she asked to watch Wendel, they told her that they don’t get that channel. By time she had her way, Wendel’s tribute was over.

3) When I was 10 years old, The Habs were in the midst of 5 cups. When you’re ten, that’s half your life. I always thought the Habs were like those East German female swimmers who spoke with guy’s voices. I was convinced that the Leafs got the shit kicked out of them every time we met because the Habs were evil communist robots.

4) The Habs almost beat the evil communist robots, New Year’s eve, 1975

5) Several years ago, I went to a card show to get Guy Lafleur to sign his rookie card. It was a card that I had in my collection since I was a kid. I took a daughter with me, so my wife would let me go. After waiting in line for what seemed like an eternity with an uninterested 4 year old, Guy signed my card and then his pen exploded, spilling shiny gold ink all over it. While Guy desperately tried to wipe off the ink, his minions offered me more free autographed cards if I just waited in line again. I respectfully declined.

6) I recently met M. Lafleur via a shared acquaintance. He didn’t remember the incident. The dick.

7) The Habs fired Rejean Houle and Mario Tremblay. These two were my only hope for Habs fans to share the pain and futility of the Ballard years.

8) Their cancer stricken dude is called captain courageous and the fact that he spent $1 million of his own money to buy a cancer zapping machine for a hospital in Sherbrooke basically gives him a mulligan for life.

9) We got Ken Dryden after he retired from playing. He who declared that Leafs fans watch the Leafs because the "Leafs are just a habit". One could only imagine the

-watch

-paint

- drying

- excitement

of listening to his motivation speeches. He essentially bored the players and coaching staff into mediocrity. Dryden was a Habs mole (see point 3)

10) Unable to admit the Hab's braintrust could have ever been mistaken, Hab's fans start to give credence to the rumour that Grabovski was a cancer in the room in MTL (look out captain courageous!), and that the Phoenix debacle was unprovoked idiocy on Grab's part. Curiously avoiding a response to the absolutely certainty that Grabs is a russian speaking Avery who can score using talent and doesn't disappear at even strength like many Hab's forwards that we know and hate (no photos please).

via denis-au-quebec.ublog.com

1) I parked my car downtown on Monday night because I always miss the exit for the Metro. I ended up parking on rue Stanley. And it leads directly to the Bell Centre.

4) The Habs almost beat the evil communist robots, New Year’s eve, 1975

6) I recently met M. Lafleur via a shared acquaintance. He didn’t remember the incident. The dick.

7) The Habs fired Rejean Houle and Mario Tremblay. These two were my only hope for Habs fans to share the pain and futility of the Ballard years.

9) We got Ken Dryden after he retired from playing. He who declared that Leafs fans watch the Leafs because the "Leafs are just a habit". One could only imagine the

-watch

-paint

- drying

- excitement

of listening to his motivation speeches. He essentially bored the players and coaching staff into mediocrity. Dryden was a Habs mole (see point 3)

To celebrate Terry's birthday, here a short piece on two of my heros, one being a Leaf

blue with age — Mon, 28 Jul 2008 18:20:21 -0000

To celebrate Terry's birthday, here a short piece on two of my heros, one being a Leaf

The new assistant coach's motivational strategy

blue with age — Thu, 24 Jul 2008 15:02:06 -0000

The new assistant coach's motivational strategy

Revising History

blue with age — Tue, 22 Jul 2008 18:51:05 -0000

Here's a great first submission from newcomer blue with age about the Leafs in the 70s and being a Leaf fan in Quebec.

I think i am of an older cuvée than those who post here but my commodore 64 can still navigate the internets all the same. A story in today's Star from our favorite journalist refering once again to the "41 years of futility" narrative got me to thinking. I believe that Cox and I are close in age though i still have all my hair. But his persistent denigration of all things Leaf rests on a somewhat selective view of history. So, in the interest of providing you all with witty replies to the hoards that despise leaf fandom (I live in Quebec City and the epithet Leafs Nation has baggage), I think that my experiences as a fan can correct some common misconceptions.

I played lots of hockey growing up and Ron Ellis lived in the same town as me, but my first connection between the game we played and a team called the Leafs came courtesy of my grandmother. On the Saturdays nights that we visited, she would often regale me with stories of some guy named Teeder who came from her town. I was more interested in her promises that the antisocial behavior of some boy named Clarke that was sure to end in fisticuffs. But, my awareness of the Leafs team began with the 72 Summit Series. Hey they had a leaf on their jersey, and Henderson had 7 goals in 8 games, including the tying goal in game 3 and the winning goals in games 6, 7 and 8. A couple years later, the slash that Clarke used to fell Kharlamov was equally effective in eliminating Inge Hamarstrom (the "other" european and safegard against the McCabe like tendancies of that Ian Turnbull character) and with it, all hope of the Leafs overcoming the Broad Street Bullies. I discovered what real hate was and became an unconditional fan.

Comfortable in the role of underdogs, the mid-70s Leafs were the version that would keep us loyal through the Harold "go pee in the troughs on the floor I call bathrooms" Ballard period till Wendel came along. Sittler was truly a gem. How many teams today can claim a captain who was third in league scoring and clocked 100 penalty minutes? And that was a team well stocked with "role players" like Tiger Williams. Many claim it was an overachieving team that beat the Islanders that year. But Lanny and Sittler were much more than just two idiots fighting over a Hungry Man Dinner in the TV commercials. In the last truly competent thing that Cherry ever did, the coach put them on a line with Marcel Dionne in the 76 Canada Cup and Sittler scored the series winning goal in overtime. It almost made us forget the asskicking that Montreal gave the Leafs in the semi-final after the Islanders series (Note to Cox: Gilmour was not the last to lead us to the final 4). Oh how I hated those fucking Canadiens with their Lafleur smoking between periods and that asshole lawyer guy that leaned on his stick all the way to the House of Commons.

Well after that it was all downhill for a while but never boring. I think most of you out there remember the 90s. It may seem surprising to you but being a Leaf fan in Quebec City is not so difficult. Many guys my age hate the Canadiens, and in the absence of a local NHL team, our most recent collective Stanley Cup came by way of the Leafs' playoff elimination of the Saint Flannel last year. Encouraged by my francophone friends, i must admit a sinful habit of yelling wife beating epithets at Roy in English during the Rempart games. I have also absorbed some of the local culture in getting a real hate on for anything to do with Ottawa. I wear my Leafs cap proudly around town and receive little flack for it except from the young bandwagon jumpers. I was never so proud as to see our guy Stralman nail that Russian with his head down at the world championships here, then bitch slap Kovalchuk afterwards.

From afar, our team doesn't lack that many pieces. Keep the faith and remember a Stanley Cup is always a possibility when its still summertime.

Here's a great first submission from newcomer blue with age about the Leafs in the 70s and being a Leaf fan in Quebec.

From afar, our team doesn't lack that many pieces. Keep the faith and remember a Stanley Cup is always a possibility when its still summertime.