Abel to Yzerman

Abel to Yzerman

Angst In Chicago

04/25/2013 at 11:46am EDT

I don't want to get all gross about this, but late word filtering in from the A2Y interns via Northwood University is disturbing.

According to them, Joel Quenneville woke up with large chunks of vomit stuck in that badger pelt he has attached to his upper lip.

Details are sketchy, as they often are here, but here's what we know. Witnesses saw Quenneville take a tray of venison, a six pack of Hamms and a Glee cd down to his basement early last evening. At some point, and this is vague, he stopped practicing the routine he's been working on for a dance-off coming up in Calumet Heights, accepted a phone call and searched frantically for 23 minutes before locating his remote...in the badger pelt.

Interns are certain about the rest. Certain.

Quenneville watched the Wings/Kings game from the mid-second period to its completion, crammed "humungous...ginormous" pieces of venison into his mouth and washed them down quicky with Hamms. Over and over. Then he passed out with the haunting sounds of Carly Simon in the background.

Joel Quenneville, as you're aware, was an assistant coach for the Denver Fuchtards in 1995-1996, into '97. He left midseason to relieve insane Mike Keenan and led the upstart Blues to the playoffs. Fans of the St. Louis franchise, previously slightly bitter and just a tiny bit paranoid about the Detroit Red Wings, were introduced to a new reality in April of that amazing calendar year, The Season Baby Jesus Brought Us What We Deserved. Blues fans were taught a harsh lesson they'd be forced to learn redolently for the next fifteen years: they are the Wings' bitches, and the Wings enjoy the relationship.

Joel Quenneville did not resist and the Wings kept at it. Year after year. First round loss to the Wings in '97. Cup for Detroit. Second round loss to the Wings in '98. Cup for Detroit. Second round loss to Detroit in '02. Cup for Detroit. Shitcanned. On to Denver. Second round loss to Detroit. Again. Cup for the Wings. Again. On to Chicago and a conference finals loss. To the Wings.

Joel Quenneville vomited himself to sleep last night because he's 0-5 against the Detroit Red Wings in warm weather situations, also known as the playoffs.

Quenneville, who's never beaten the Detroit Red Wings in a playoff series...ever, woke up this morning with chunks of vomit in his epic mustache because the team he watched last night is a team he hoped he'd never see again. Had he seen the February or March, or even early April Wings? Shit...he'd have just kept dancing.

But instead he saw at least three lines that held on to the puck, created and flew. He saw a mobile young defense that is, somehow, really, really good. He saw a goaltender that he knew was good, but is now excelling at a time when the pressure is greater than anything he's faced up to this point ever (failing now and stopping this streak would hurt this team more than losing to Bubba or Choking Jumbo Joe).

Most importantly, Quenneville watched a desperate team last night and he knows they're polishing that desperation, using it, maximizing it...getting into playoff form. Quenneville's Hawks haven't been in "playoff form" for four years.

Oh they're good. Yes they are. But they want no part of the Wing team Quenneville watched last night.

Hell, the Wings may not get in and the league will rejoice. The entire league, to include all the executives (except maybe one), will rejoice. Make no mistake about that. The only town that wants this streak to continue is Detroit, the only fans who want it to go on are us. That's it and that's all.

But if they do...if they do? Joel Quenneville will not be happy. Not one bit.

Because, and I don't know if I've said this or not, the Wings own his ass.

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Welcome to Abel to Yzerman, a Red Wing blog since 1977. No other site on the internet has better-researched, fact-laden and better prepared discussions than A2Y. Re-phrase: we do little research, find facts and stats highly overrated and claim little to no preparation. There are 19 readers of A2Y. No more, no less. All of them, except maybe one, are juvenile in nature. Reminding them of that in the comment section will only encourage them to prove that.

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