Friday, February 18, 2011
Fuck. It's my fault.
That's the third Habs' game I've attended here out west, and the first in Edmonton. Same result in all three: the Habs don't show up. What's worse is the game was f'ing BORING save for the in-house crowd battle cries of Lets Go Oilers! vs. Go Habs Go! for most of the evening. There was some effort, but no emotion and little skill outside the Oilers crease. Although I did see Bit Tits smile during the warmups and thought for sure he was going to score. Then I remembered Count Chokula is his coach so that feeling will be gone half way back to the bench. Guess what? Another big fat goose egg. Trade 'im already, you know the Count wants to.
I spent the entire third period trying to figure out another excuse for the loss besides me. Injuries? Okay, when you've got a basketball player on defence (Nash) and one of the three vets goes down 7 minutes in, your defence is allowed to cause trouble. But the Habs didn't win for lack of defence - save for that 15 second comedy of errors early in the third. (I love you PK, but when you got a guy lined up just outside the blueline MAKE SURE YOU HIT HIM.)
And while TFS (tm) wasn't the problem, he was
certainly outdueled by a dude who could play his grandfather in the HBO production "Habs/Oilers 24/7". (But man is Carey a fine specimen to observe during warmups if you fancy yourself a puckstopper. And he's durable, unlike the fossil across the ice and the Dmen in front of him - AND a certain former crease buddy who was recently put on the IR...but still love you, Jaro!)
Maybe the Habs don't like the West? Well, granted that both Edmonton and Calgary are boring as hell compared to life in the MTL, but there are enough western boys that you'd think they'd know what to expect. And the flip side is they can't claim that they were distracted by the prospect of the cities' nightlife. And surely they were not distracted by those Octane Whores (*TM Mrs. Panger) "dancing" in the aisles - because you could pick out a random group of females from any Montreal club and get a hotter - and better coordinated - bunch.
But really, it all came back to me. The common denominator is me. And the rest of the Canadiens extended family who have left Montreal. The club knew we were coming (how could they not?), knew we were all psyched to see them - and they consistently shit the bed out West. Is it a feeling of betrayal because a couple of generations earlier the Habs were Canada's Western team (no one outside T.O. has ever enjoyed the Leafs, obviously)? And now these young upstarts - with their "Great One" and tiny collection of Cups and teams stolen from Georgia and goalies stolen from St Leonard - have their own fans? Meanwhile the Montreal team is punishing us for joining these losers (albeit Cup contending losers in Vancouver this year) and abandoning La Belle Province altogether.
Or is it because they get too much love: they know that I and my legions of former Montrealers-but-still-diehard-Habs-fans will pay to see them play even if they lose 10-1 here every time. And we'll even show up for warmups to take crappy, blurry pictures.
Or maybe it's Paul Mara's fault. Keep your equipment carry-on goddamit. You're 6'4, don't tell that 5'2 bitch of a stewardess what you can and cannot do with your stuff.
Well at least it didn't get any worse - oh wait, what's that Wiz's face is telling me from it's hospital bed? Enjoy this shot of The Phantom of Rexall Place back when he had an orbital bone and his basketball playing cousin (sorry, I got nothing else for this Brendon kid yet).
Now cross your fingers for the Heritage Classic: not for a win - we know that's futile! - but for better than -20 weather so I don't have to pull a James Franco impression and amputate a limb halfway through the third.