Is it still considered unmanly to cry? If it is, then please feel free to ignore the contents of this post. You see, when Robin Brownlee called me up this morning to tell me that he was hearing rumours that Ales Hemsky was bound for the operating table, I welled up — partly because I wish Ales well (and I do! Feel better, Hemmer!). But mostly because it sort of feels like the nail in the coffin of an already grotesque season.
We’re more than 20 games into the thick of it. We’re seven players down due to illness and injury. Gregor’s getting pissed out of shape down in Calgary for the Grey Cup, Wanye’s off in some backwater European country learning how to bake artisan bread just so, Willis is rocking the Internets at theScore.ca… And the rest of us are sitting here swallowing mouthfuls of our own fingernails as we watch an average team slide further down the bell curve.
Sweet jumping Moses, people, I have to stop thinking this way! Someone, pass the Kool-Aid.
Beat the Heat. No, seriously, do it
I know, I know Dany effin’ Heatley’s in town.
Big effin’ deal.
Oh sure, we’ve partnered with Original Joe’s in their Beat the Heat campaign to poke fun at the Heat. I’m going down there tonight to order no less than 27 Joe Burgers so that $27 can be donated to the Give Me Shelter charity. 27 burgers, Nation. If I was actually worried about Dany Heatley, I’d have 28 — just enough to put me into a coma so I could wake up tomorrow morning without a care in the world…
Yes, I would wake up and everyone would be healthy again. Hemsky’s shoulder, it would turn out, actually became super-strong allowing him to shoot harder, more often and more accurately.
Comrie would be cured of his mono, and he would score 50 goals with Hilary Duff riding on his back singing her hit song, "[insert name of Duff song here]."
Khabibulin’s back wouldn’t only be back to 100%, but he would go on to win the World Breakdancing Championships. He’d also rescue a puppy from a fire, started by another rabid puppy.
The statue of Wayne Gretzky outside RX1 would be replaced with a statue of Dustin Penner standing on a pile of skulls — skulls that once belonged to all the people who ever made a donair joke at his expense. The pile would be 12 miles high.
Back to reality
But dreams aren’t reality, kids. That’s what my expensive psychology degree taught me. We’re icing a team of youngins and ne’er-do-wells against a team of — quite literally — Sharks. Colin McDonald and Ryan O’Marra have been called up, Reddox has been sent down, and the lines they are a-changin’.
Oh, and there’s going to be another teammate for the Oilers. THE FANS. I’d wager, in spite of the Oilers’ shabby record, this is the most excited you’re going to see the fans at RX1 in a really long time. Every time the Heat touches the rubber, the sound from the crowd will be defeaning.
And that alone will win the Oilers the game. 2-1 Oilers. In a shootout. And the star of the game will be none other than Deslauriers.
If I’m wrong, I will eat as many OJ’s burgers as Penner ate donairs last season. I swear.