Kukla's Korner

Abel to Yzerman

Oh, There Will Be Blood

Round 1 was a quaint, engaging experience for Wing fans—particularly the 19 readers of A2Y.  Bubba’s fans dropped in from time to time and exchanged a few barbs with the faithful.  Friendships were formed between the two fan bases.  We bid them farewell and wished them the best.  Bubba’s bloggers came by occasionally and a few serious-minded, even-keeled hockey discussions took place.  Children were smiling.  Puppies frolicked as firetrucks waited outside, offering rides. 

Well, you can leave that crap at the door brother.  Leave it.  Because Round 2 is a whole new ballgame, a whole different dynamic.

Why?  Because, we’re talking genetic hatred now.  I make no apologies and offer no excuses.  I despise the Dive, particularly the fans.  Harsh?  I really don’t care.  Check the glossary if you need an explanation.  Or don’t.  I’ll tell you now. My distaste for those “fans” started back in ‘96 when some monkey-looking skank held up a sign behind the Wing bench during Game 6.  It’s continued through every playoff series, every season.  I don’t like their fans. I don’t like their organ-I-zation.  I don’t even like their bloggers.  Joe at Mile High Hockey’s a decent enough dude.  The others?  Well, you can see them on the left sidebar. I put them there because I’m sure you’ll be looking to peruse through their sobbing excuse-riddled crap as this series goes forward.  But you sure as hell don’t see ‘em in the blogroll.  Never have and you never will.  I’m not in the business of driving traffic to places like that.  I don’t tell my kids to surf porn and I’m sure not telling my friends to visit blogs I don’t respect.

Was that mean?  I know a few Dive bloggers have accused me of that before.  I know.  I’m sorry. 

But, well…

I don’t like men who hyphenate their names. I don’t like men who talk about kittens and “hockey love”.  I don’t like men whose blog titles sound like the name of a show on Nickelodeon.  And I don’t care if I’m breaking some unwritten rule about being respectful to the opposing team’s blogs because we’re all in this together and slamming peers is not what adult hockey bloggers do well I’m not an adult mothefu***rs I’m a Sailor and I’m a Wing fan and everything else takes a back seat so you bandwagon elitist wine sipping leg warmer wearing clean air sniffing Detroit bashing pieces of garbage can all suck it and suck it hard.

Because that’s what this blog was founded on.  Oh, you expect some sort of analysis of Round 2.  You’ll get it.  But, I’m not done with the core of this issue yet. I don’t like Pierre LaCroissant.  I don’t like Mike Keane calling the Wings cowards and I don’t like the French.  Yeah, I said it.  I don’t like the French.  I don’t like a guy named Ian running our captain and I believe Round 2, Game 1 should feature a beatdown in the early goings.

Honesty and self-assessment are overrated in my book.  I’m not the introspective type. I’ll leave that to the sensitive ones in Denver, the Darren Garcia’s and the other “confused” fans of a team who consider 1996 to be “old time hockey” (thanks to the A2Y genius who came up with that..classic).  But here’s something I can admit.  The hatred between these two fan bases is steeped in one thing and one thing only:  fear.  Fear of your team losing to the other and having to live with the dark thoughts that accompany that loss.  We talked a bit a few weeks ago about how difficult it is to watch playoff hockey after the Wings are knocked out.  I’ll tell you this: The Wings lose this series? I won’t read a word, watch a highlight.  Not a single period.  I’ll shut this bastard down for weeks and go on sabbatical.  Hockey will be a discussion stopper in my house and in my life.  Does that make me a “bad fan”?  I. Don’t. Care. I’ve said that already. I’m not an NHL fan. I’m not a Central Division or Western Conference fan.  I’m a Red Wing fan. Period. 

I’ve been flying in frigging airplanes for two days straight, so forgive my surliness. I’m usually so happy.  I haven’t read the garbage in the Denver papers, but I will.  I haven’t seen the MSM predictions, but I’ll look today.  I’ll do all of that because I’m a sucker and I allow myself to get all worked up for series’ like this one. 

And I’ll tell you this.  I’m glad Footer and Floppa and new hero Jose and little Ian and captain Joey and crying Ryan are all healthy and happy.  I hope the Denver fan is feeling confident and secure.  I want that.  Because the thought of watching the hearts of the Denver “faithful” get ripped out and kicked as a result of a loss to Detroit is just about the happiest image I can conjur.

Wow. You’re shocked at the tone of this post.  The Dive feel-good bloggers will link to it and claim it’s just Iwo and his angry self.  Angry? No.  I’m not angry. Anger, in most people, is an emotion that comes and goes, ebbs and flows.  With beer and dandelions it can pass.  Anger doesn’t last for twelve years.  Not in sane people anyway, which is another discussion—sanity.  No, this isn’t anger.  This is Ohio State-like hatred.  I’m not mad at Dive fans.  I simply don’t like you.

And I will enjoy your pain.  I have zero sympathy.  None. 

So that’s, you know, where I stand.  Predictions, analysis, all that other stuff? Yeah, it’s coming today.  We’ll get to it.  A long day awaits. 

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About Abel to Yzerman

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. Your suggestions and critiques are welcome: wphoulihan@gmail.com

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