Tuesday, April 28, 2009

Let the Feathers Fly

Once again, we tangle with our avian nemeses. They have orange extremities, we have wheels. They are peaceful denizens of the sea, we are soulless mechanized cyborgs with no brains or heart, just wings and wheel, steel and fury. I suppose they may have us beat in a naval battle, but then again, we've got octopi.

Umm... sorry, I stroked out for a second there. Anyway, I was rooting for the Ducks to finish the Sharks off as soon as it became apparent that the usual playoff-Ducks had shown up, and the usual playoff-Sharks had too (sorry McClellan. Babcock you ain't. Or I guess maybe you are. Same start.) Why was I rooting for the Ducks? Well...

I am downright giddy to see Johnny Ericsson punch Chris Pronger's ugly fucking face in. Holy shit am I excited that the Wings have a guy who can match sasquatch inch-for-inch (not that that stopped Danny Cleary). And he's not just big, he's willing. I was saddened, no, crestfallen, to see the linesmen break up JMFE's nascent fight with whatever BJ that was in Game 4.

And Cory Perry? God I hate Cory Perry. Ohhh man do I hate him. I am literally shaking with anger as I type this. We need someone to cave his face in too. Ericsson can't handle all the fighting duties. How about... Kopecky? No, seriously. He can throw down.

Or maybe.... maybe the best way for the Wings to get revenge for 46.7 is not to literally beat down the Ducks, to take them on at what is admittedly their best facet, but rather, to totally fucking school them. Your top line is Ryan-Getzlaf-Perry? Seriously? And Niedermayer? What a punk. I get sick whenever he's compared to Lidstrom. Offense, yes. But defensively not in Nick's league. Remember Wally skating around Scotty like he was a fucking pylon? Yeah me too.

Yeah, I think that would be a lot more satisfying. Let Pronger scream in unintelligible gibberish, unable to form cogent sentences, while the Hossa blows past him. Let him wail mindlessly as Holmstrom asses in another goal while he sits in the box for some dumbassed act of aggression. Let Niedermayer frown in confusion while the Wings skate circles around him.

Forget circles. The Wings are gonna skate squares around him. Who can skate in a square? Pavel Datsyuk can. I saw it. In a dream. He did it. Backwards, blindfolded. Mike Babcock was wearing a cowboy hat and giggling with mirth in the background.

Um, anyway. Wings in 6.