Saturday, April 23, 2011
"If they lose Saturday, I'm out.
Not out for the series. Out for good. I seriously cannot stand this fucking team any longer. I hate, HATE THIS FUCKING TEAM. I'm dead sober, by the way.
Honestly, fuck it. This team is not worth my time."
- Habsfan10, in a (no longer private) email after Thursday's fucking tragedy
Well sure you are, 10. You're out like I'm giving up meth. Let's face it, no matter how we feel after Thursday's game, we are all Habaholics. We cannot turn down the CHance to possibly, maybe, perhaps, God forbid, feel the glory of winning a game, winning a series, moving on to the next round, winning the Stanley Cup and having a parade down Ste Catherine Street. The potential for highs related to this team is just too much for us to give up. So no matter how much Thursday night left us in the gutter, face down in a pool of our own puke begging for change and prostituting ourselves to any warm body with a fiver walking by, we will all find ourselves in front of the TV tonight at 7 PM, desperately needing our fix of Habs success. I feel embarassed about my addiction, but that's the way it is. Maybe we all need a 12-step program:
Step 1 - I am powerless over my Habs addiction. I must be home to watch the game and this has made my life umanageable. I believe this to be true.
Step 2 - Oh Lord of the NHL (Bettman) I am powerless! Your calm, intelligent decisions will restore me to sanity.
Step 3 - I turn over my will and life to you Bettman. Thy will be done.
Step 4 - If I may take a moment to take personal inventory, I am a terrible person. I doubt the Habs daily by thinking they suck. My life has been a terrible waste of time passing endless hours and spending endless money following a dumbfuck hockey team that does absolutely nothing but torture me to no end (1973, 1976-79, 1986, and 1993 excluded).
Step 5 - I am wrong, oh Bettman, for thinking that the rules are applied fairly across the league.
Step 6 - Oh Bettman, I am wrong for wanting to watch the Habs even though THEY SUCK BALLS QUITE FREQUENTLY. This is a defect in my character, please correct it.
Step 7 - Oh Bettman, remove my shortcoming desire to want the Habs to win the Cup evey year. NTTAWWT.
Steps 8 and 9 - Ooh boy this is a tough one. I'd like to apologize and make amends to the following: HF10 for using his email quote without permission, CHokula for saying YOU SUCK many, many more times than was necessary, Yahweh for substituting Bettman for Him, FHF readers for this trite preview, any AA members or NA members or _A members for this preview generally, CHicken for hating you (even though you deserve it), Cornelius Hardenbaugh (love thine enemy and so forth), George Costanza for refusing to lend him that expensive sweater becuase his giant head would stretch the neck hole too much, that CHick I promised to call and never did, that other CHick I promised to call and never did, that other other CHick I promised to call and really wanted to but actually lost her phone number (for realz!), and my family and friends who have suffered from the lies I have told ("I have to be home at seven for a, uh, meeting!") and the damage I have done (throwing that Ming vase during the '89 Finals) because of my Habs addiction.
Step 10 - I admit I am wrong and a terrible person for wanting a Shaved Gorilla to die a horrible death in as horrible a manner as possible. And Michael Ryder too while I'm at it.
Step 11 - Oh Bettman, I submit to your will and know you have the power to carry out the return of the NHL to Winnipeg and Quebec City.
Step 12 - I know all of you are Habaholics as well. Together, we can be healed. Amen!
Well that's it. But here we are, best of three, all the momentum lost, no more bullshit, let's just see what the fuck is gonna happen. I don't give a fuck who's playing, who's not playing, who's hot and who's not, or what strip club to go to after the game. It's all fucking irrelevant. You'll be watching, I'll be watching, Mom of 29 will be watching. Because no matter how much Game 4 blew chunks and tore out our collective heart like a bad batch of black tar heroin, we are addicted. We will always be addicted. Until we drop dead of an overdose at the age of 27. Better to burn out than to fade away.