Saturday, May 16, 2009

On Karma and the Hockey Gods...

I've been in a pretty good mood all day. This is making it hard for me to find reasons to hate Chicago. In all honestly, I like the city a lot. I even have plans to go there next month. This visit will be all that much sweeter if I can walk around, draped in Wings gear, gloating.

Also, as much fun as it was to watch, it's almost a relief to see Gary Bettman's 2-week-long ecstasy of a Caps/Pens series over. It's too bad the Pens and his Little Buddy had to pull it out, but I'm not all that broken up over it. Quite frankly, I'm amazed that Bettman found time away from daydreaming about his pet being that much closer to the Cup to attend the Wings Game 7.

I've been a little too stressed/busy today to do any hard-core Hawks digging, so I'll instead offer another rehash of my general sentiments surrounding the Anaheim series. Spoiler alert: I despise all things Duck related.

The Mighty Ducks movies were some of my most defining childhood memories. I can't even count the number of times my brother and I have reenacted the "The Goalieeeeeee!" scene from D2. I was pretty sure that I was going to marry Charlie Conway. So I always thought it was neat that the Mighty Ducks franchise was out there in the NHL. (Coincidentally, Anaheim is also home to the Angels, the subject of another of my favorite childhood movies. I can't say I have anything particular against the MLB Angels, though.) Until they became a bunch of thugs, that is. Gordon Bombay would not approve. This only makes me hate the Ducks more. Nobody stomps all over my fondest childhood memories and gets away with it.

There's been a little bit of whining on the Ducks' part today, mostly about the winning goal. All I can say is, "Karma!" Even in my most miserable, furious, throwing-dog-toys-at-the-floor moments, I had faith in the Hockey Gods. Because, you see, at the end of the day, hockey is the single greatest team sport ever invented. And, by its very nature, it must have benevolent and just Gods ruling over it. And there was no way that those Hockey Gods could let a travesty like the Goal That Wasn't go unanswered. I actually enjoy the fact that the series-winning goal was controversial. I hope that PYG and the rest of the Ducks goon-squad spend the whole summer replaying it over, and over, and over in their minds, searching for some angle, some argument, some way to overrule that goal. I hope it's seared into their memories the way the Goal That Wasn't or Captain Elbows McGee's attack on Datsyuk will stay with the Wings.

The Wings simply could not be defeated by this disgusting, one-line of a team. It would have gone against all that is fair and good in the world. I'm not sure I could've stomached a handshake line watching their smug little faces again. And they would've looked smug. You don't get away with as much as they did and not look smug at the end.

Speaking of the handshake line, it seems that while that was going on on the ice, the Ducks GM decided to go all WWA and beat a woman with a bar stool in the press box. When I first read this, I didn't believe it. I thought it was made up. But it turns out it wasn't. I guess class really does start at the top and works its way down to the ice surface. I can just imagine it in the same vein of Captain Elbows' quick peek to see if the referees were looking before elbowing Datsyuk at the end of Game 6. I picture Bob Murray looking around to make sure nobody was watching, before picking up the stool and cross-checking this woman. I guess we know where PYG and his Captain learned their moves.

On the other hand, it was nice to see that the Blackhawks fans had faith that the Wings would pull out a victory in the second round. Their chanting of "Detroit sucks!" at the end of their Game 6 was pretty classy. Now they've got what they wished for, and I hope to the Hockey Gods that they regret it.

For some reason Patrick Kane chose now to admit that while he was living in the Metro area, being sheltered by Pat Verbeek, no less, he hated the Wings. It seems that he was a Sabres fan. Oh, poor, naive, young Patrick, with your sad lack of a playoff beard, did no one tell you that those are the kinds of things that you keep to yourself? The Wings are not the kind of guys you want to tick off. Not in the, "You make Pronger angry! Pronger smash with elbows!" sense, but in the, "Oh gee, was that another powerplay goal?" sense.

Chicago scares me a lot less than Anaheim did. I know I was rooting for the Ducks to knock out San Jose in the first round, just so the Wings wouldn't have to go through them, but that series was all I could handle. If nothing else, at least I won't have to live every game in fear that one of the Wings will have his head taken off by a PYG elbow.

No comments:

Post a Comment