In an almost cruel trick of nature, the sun broke through the clouds and gave way to clear skies. Battered and broken, the young Lord Price gazed up at the blinding light. An eerie silence enveloped his camp. Around him, his fellow men hobbled around on whatever strength they had left. "It's just too much," thought the young Lord while looking at his downtrodden men.
After an ambitious campaign, they had finally hit a wall. Not enough able bodies capable to carry the load, and those left healthy could barely muster a shot. The Captain, spirited as always, attempted to hold the men optimistic. "We won't go down without a fight," he said to them before the final stretch. The two young keepers tried to keep their own spirits high, but even they both knew their efforts alone couldn't save them. And although they had eagerly awaited this rendez-vous with the hated Bear Tribe of the East, they knew it wouldn't end well. "We just need to survive," is what they told each other. "No matter what happens, we'll keep our heads high."
Four nights. It felt like four years. One beating after another, losing more to injuries, and in turn slowly losing spirit. They tried hard, but it wasn't enough. The giant Chara, captain of the Bears, could stop their attack with one blow. When he didn't, his defensive shield was so great around their old keeper that it almost felt as if an invisible barrier was placed around their stronghold. Kessel, the trickster, always seemed capable of getting in at the right place at the right time, and whenever he did, he had a quality shot at the young keeper. The brutish Lucic, a sworn enemy of Lord Price's defensive leader Komisarek, was constantly in their faces. And although one of the young defensive members, Weber of Switzerland, managed to knock the brute to his knees twice, he still managed to hurt them. They were running out of power, running out of steam, and though they still held their heads high they were running out of faith.
And so they returned home, unhappy and empty handed. The city was divided on their performance between a complete vile lack of gratitude and those that still loyaly believed in them. The few that continued believing made the warriors happy, even for just a bit. But the overwhelming bile directed at them and the young keeper seemed to have outweighed this. The King, however, put his foot down and delivered a stern warning.
"Shame on you," he said of the people who spat their disrespect at the men of the sacred red, white, and blue. "Shame on you all. One day, you'll run these men out of town and will be left with nothing." The young keeper took the criticism the hardest but his men rallied to his defence, and the King echoed those sentiments. In the end they all knew the reality.
"There will be other battles, other chances," said the brilliant captain to his young keeper. With a nod, and a sigh, the keeper agreed. "Until next year," said the young Lord, trying desperately to smile. "Les Glorieux will ride again."
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Well, that's all she wrote fellow Habs fans. No, not you idiots at the Bell Centre who booed the team all night. You guys can go fuck off a bridge and die for all I care. Not satisfied with having chased Roy out of town, you're on a mission to run everyone else out and then cry about what could have been while those players have great careers elsewhere.
It was a good season despite all the injuries and adversity that marred it. I mean, we could have been like Dallas, and just NOT have made the playoffs and only managed to nab the 8th pick in the lottery. We don't have a Malkin, or a Crosby, or an Ovechkin. We don't even have a Heatley. We had no powerplay all year, though it worked some times. Every player we got over the summer who made our team better fell to devastating injuries. The final nail in the coffin was Markov...
Hockey is the type of game that can change as quickly as Kovy pivots. Hopefully the idiots tonight didn't run the entire roster out of town. I still maintain that we need the Nordiques back just to take the heat off a little.
Tomorrow is Solidarity Day. All the REAL fans should wear their sweaters or t-shirts. All the REAL fans care to support their boys and not throw towels or waterbottles. Bunch of barnyard pigs.
And now we have 5 months of speculations via talking heads. Oh how I hate the off-season... Here's to the Draft, In Bob We Trust.
Yea, thought so.
