And then there were two.

It was a riveting Game 7. Riveting, that is, if you enjoy smacking your head against a concrete wall repeatedly. The Lightning had no clue how to stay on side and looked more lost on the ice than my mom trying to navigate a map. (Hint: she once had the ski map to Jay Peak up-side-down). And the Bruins were not exposed for the slow, sluggish troglodytes they are but sure knew how to make 4 goaltenders appear. No penalties? Sure, OK there buddy. You may remember Stephan Walkom from such hits as "I Allowed Colton Orr's Goal When He Clearly Was Sitting On Scott Clemmensen" and "E-mails By Colin Campbell: Stop Calling Penalties On My Son". Coupled with the good Irish boy Dan O'Halloran, you do the math.

Since when does Game 7 dictate that you don't call penalties? What a joke.

And the NHL should be ashamed of themselves for allowing Nathan Horton to even step on the ice. The greatest taboo in the League is accosting a fan regardless of how much they're taunting you. Tortorella was suspended a game DURING THE PLAYOFFS for dousing an annoying Caps fan. Rypien was given 6 for shaking an annoying Wild fan. I think Sean Avery was reprimanded for something he did in the penalty box once. Horton sprayed the guy with water, then threw the bottle into the crowd after losing Game 6.

Of course he's the one that scored the ONLY GOAL, a sleepy tip-in while surrounded by a pack of bored looking Lightning players.

I hope you're satisfied, NHL. Go fuck yourself. And while it pains me to say this: GO CANUCKS.

Call me when it's Draft day.