Waves of stress have turned the last minutes of our sanity into hours.
The Coast Guard, a fine service with brave men and women, has no wish to assist. We're foundering but not sunk. That fatass cook is nervous but he's not cooking the last supper.
That musty old hall in Detroy-et is filled but not silent.
Oh no. Not silent. It is absolutely rocking because that's what happens downtown during the playoffs.
And that's what this is. This is the playoffs and, by god, it shall be treated as such.
We need this one, and then we need tomorrow.
If that church bell chimes, it'll ring 25 times for each year of the greatest streak ever.
It'll be a Swede who carries us tonight and a Russian tomorrow, because the Russian is good and the Swede is well seasoned.
Whitefish Bay is in sight. It will be reached. It's beckoning and it will be reached. Then it will be descended upon by thirsty men who've braved a storm. It will be pillaged because that's what Sailors do to unsuspecting towns after months of uncertainty and duress at sea.
It's a Live Blog bitches.
We. Want. Tampa.
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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