Monday, May 5, 2008

Always Crashing in the Same Teal Car

One of the best hockey games ever happened to be one of the longest hockey games ever. Which also happened to be one of the sharpest daggers to the balls that a Sharks fan has taken, ever.

Like grass dampening in the rain, or us bolting to the computer after a provocative late-night infomercial, another promising San Jose season has come to a disappointing end.

So as we bid adieu to yet one more underachieving playoff campaign, we honor the fifth-longest game in NHL history -- (Robert) Frost on ice, if you will -- with a poem of the shortest variety.

Red 42... Blue 68... set, hut, hut, Haiku!

Nab. Turc. Magic show.
Big hits rammed. Seven frames spanned.
Gulp whistle, (you fucking) zebra.

3 comments:

jesse said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
jesse said...

There's nothing like the NHL..... it reminds me a lot of the mafia.... so strange how, come playoffs the boys in the stripes keep their whistle back at the hotel lobby. A penalty is a penalty right?? Game one of the regular season or game 7 of the finals.... calls need to be called and called consistently right?? How come goals that are under review are being discussed by guys at the rink and guys all the way over in Canada? Think how insane it would be if you're watching a Patriots vs. Jags MNF game and MJD hurdles over the pile at the one yard line..... Was he in?? Was he short?? Fuck it, let's just call Canada. Hockey is bullshit, Canada is bullshit, bacon is bacon and ham is ham and I'm never watching the Sharks play again.

Doje said...

preach on sista