We bitched about Uncle Mike a bit. Oh, we did. And we convinced ourselves his departure would be ok because the Nice Mike Babcock was right behind him, ready to cajole and cuddle our Wings to glory.
How's that turning out?
34 games left and the Wings are behind Toronto and a lot of other cities for the final Wild Card spot.
Some of you despise Toronto the way I hate St. Louis and Denver. I understand that but I don't share the sentiment.
I don't hate Mike Babcock and I don't hate Brendan Shanahan. I'd love both to be in those respective jobs in our organ-I-zation, compared to cousin Jeff and whichever member of Ken Holland's executive committee or management team or group of lackeys fills the job of GM/President (whichever job Lamoriello doesn't have).
I'd love their youth and energy, that will eventually turn into discipline because that's what our Uncle Mike demands. I don't mind their fans because we were those fans in '87 and '88.
But we'd better kick their asses tonite if the playoffs are even a wet dream. Every game against Toronto matters. Every game against every team ahead of us matters. They're all must-wins. Not OT wins (lolzzzz...as if we could win an OT game). Not shootout wins. Regulation, two points to one team, none to the other, wins.
An interesting streak for our Wings and Vanek should (love that word) return tonite. An interesting streak that has turned ugly the last three games, but not ugly enough to convince us a bigger streak might, just might, continue.
Optimism is a tricky, ugly drug. A wicked drug. We've been weaned on it. It's waning but it's still there. Sparks of it fly from time to time now. Those sparks confuse us.
Forget the babble. Beat the Leafs. In regulation. If there is any reason to hope, this team has to win a game like this, against that team, against that coach.
It's a Live Blog, bitches.
LGRW.
Create an Account
In order to leave a comment, please create an account.