If the Bruins go on to take the series following a 4-2 victory in Game 3 last night, Bob Gainey's decision to play Carey Price will most likely be the catalyst of his termination. He'll forever have to look over his shoulder for those retarded fans that live in the NOW moment and forget all the blood and sweat he gave the organization over his career.
That being said and from the bottom of my heart, Thank You, Mr. Gainey. Your choice to play Price has resulted in my team going up 3-0 against the only team in the NHL that makes me break out in hives.
Montreal came out like a group of Hell's Angels on a three day homecooked meth binge, hitting everything in sight. If this was last year, the Bruins would have been down by 3 after the first five minutes. However, the boys hunkered down, made simple passes, and weathered the storm. Last night the Habs reminded me a late summer storm that has turned the clouds to the west as black as The Nothing in The Neverending Story. I kept waiting for the Rock-Biter to come by my house and try to pick up me and the racing snail. The clouds build and build and build. They finally hit and the high winds buffet the house, shaking its foundation. The surprising part is that it only lasts about seven minutes instead of the days and days of apocalypse that were expected.
Last night, the Habs came out with all sorts of bluster and energy. They just couldn't keep it up. Injuries, lack of offense, and a sad little boy in their net lead to their demise. A major strength of the B's is their ridiculous depth. They got four goals last night, and their regular season leading scorer Marc Savard had nothing on the score sheet, except for a -1. Everyone else picks up their play when the other guys are quiet. That, coupled with the play of Vezina candidate Thomas, put them in the position they're in.
I would still be surprised if the Bruins sweep the Habs right out, but we'll have to wait and see.
And to you motherfuckers that boo national anthems: sadly this is not something that is limited to Montreal, as it would give me just one more reason to hate all your asses. When the song is being sung, clasp your hands in front of you and Shut. The. Fuck. Up. If it's your national anthem, put your hand over your heart. You don't need to sing, but you need to Shut. The. Fuck. Up. Don't take a sip of your beer, don't point out something to your buddy, don't do a fucking thing. Stand there for the sixty seconds and Shut. The. Fuck. Up. This goes for every national anthem. I don't care if it's Russia's or Iraq's or fucking Kerplakistan's. I don't care if it's obvious that some poor little country "wrote" some fucking song that sounds exactly like "Wake Me Up Before You Go" by Wham!. Shut your fucking suckholes and afford some fucking respect to a country's song.
And God fucking help you if I'm within choking distance when I see you disrespecting a national anthem, you classless assclots.
Game 4 wednesday night. Go B's.