As all of our loyal readers (yes, both of them) know, the Wuf is prowling Jamaica, swilling Red Stripe while we are resigned to watching other teams navigate the Stanley Cup Playoffs. Thus, I find myself filling in, upon request. I'd hoped to cobble together some (hopefully) semi-humorous rant for this momentous occasion; but unfortunately, without a Canes playoff run, I seem to be in a creative funk.
And so it was, this weekend I found myself flipping between several playoff bouts on center ice, NHL and the Channel formerly known as OLN. The games were entertaining, but something was missing. It suddenly occurred to me that I had not picked a team to pull for and was thus lacking the requisite emotional attachment to truly enjoy these games. (Well, except for obviously pulling for the Islanders, bless their hearts...). So I got to thinking about it and I found that I was incapable of picking one team. I really wanted to pull for the Rangers because of the presence of Matt Cullen and Kevin Weekes. But it just didn't feel quite right to pull for Jaromir Jagr. Pittsburgh was a tantalizing choice because of Staal Jr. and Mark Recchi, but pulling for Brooks Orprick and Colby Armstrong just gives me the heebie-jeebies. The Islanders have enough of the underdog factor to interest me, but it is just a bit too weird watching Sean Hill actually stay out of the penalty box for me to be truly comfortable. I could probably pull for Ottawa; but given past history, I can't help but feel like that effort would be in vain. The Lightning have the advantage of being from the Southeast Division, but I just can't bring myself to pull for Martin St. Louis (the Baggins can't have my precious...). Atlanta is from the Southeast as well, but Bellanger and Koo Koo for Kovalchuk (thanks C-Leaguer...) irritate me more than St. Louis. I could pull for the Devils... oh who am I kidding, no hell I couldn't. And to be honest, as a true Caniac, I'd rather see my sister in a whorehouse than the Stanley Cup in Buffalo. So I find myself mentally drifting as to which way to go.
Increasingly, during the commercial breaks (when I am able to phase out the Geico and Herpes commercials), I swear I can hear the faint echoes of the spirit of Horace Greeley directing me: "Go west young man. Go west".
I hear San Jose is nice this time of year...
Wednesday, April 18, 2007