Y’know, I hate it when guys say stuff like I told you so, but I did correctly predict the winner of tonight’s Stanley Cup Final and the recipient of the Conn Smythe Trophy. No doubt the media will be arriving on my front lawn tomorrow morning wondering about the secret to my prognosticative prowess; here’s hoping I can get some chores done in between interviews.
Speaking of interviews, the line of the night goes to Jackson Cooke, the five-year-old son of Penguins forward Matt Cooke. Here’s a clip from the tail end of Scott Oake’s on-ice interview with Cooke from CBC:
Runner-up prize goes to Marc-Andre Fleury. Asked by Oake to describe how he felt when he saw the Red Wings swarming his crease in the final minutes of the 3rd period of the game, Fleury smiled, shook his head and said, “Oh shit!” Spouse and I exploded with laughter.
I am at least theoretically a mature adult capable of good sportsmanship and one who realized you can’t win everything all the time. In other words, one who should be able to congratulate Captain Sidney and wish the best now that Gary Bettman has gotten his fondest wish, a storyline that features the scrappy comeback antics of a young team. Mostly I just want to keep screaming inarticulate unprintable things, though.
Screaming inarticulate and unprintable things will have you well positioned for your next career as an NHL enforcer.
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