Mike Guy Stood Me Up

It's OK, he's sorry and really, he didn't miss much hockey. Missed one hell of a fight night, though!

The Rangers needed a win and they got it. I will admit, though, it was a bit of a cheapie. Nobody was there to play hockey and so they didn't. At least not much. Lundquist was his usual beautiful self and he played well even when being shoved and jostled and rammed through the net and into the back boards. There was a moment when he looked like he was headed out for at least a game.

The thing is, I had a great time. I have screamed until my barely healed throat is raw and I feel nauseated. I have jumped up and sat down so many times my quads and ass should be like iron. I've laughed and talked to a couple of strangers and high fived an enormous amount with the Matt Saracen-like teen in front of me. Yeah, it was more like going to see Bring it On than Out of Africa but I love both movies.

Brashear is a goon and a hack and I do not approve of him in any way but I do have him to thank for my evening of fun. I don't really know how it started but christ on a crutch all of a sudden nobody was wearing gloves and everyone was swinging. It then became a series of retaliatory strikes that made for brawl after brawl at each stoppage.

Brashear is also a coward. He was instigating fights left, right and center. At one point he wasn't even supposed to be on the ice and he started a fight. But he never started anything when Kasparaitis and Hollweg were on the ice, the two guys who I'd have expected to give him a run for his money. Shanahan ended up doing that...and getting named one of the three Players of the Game for it. Totally deserved it, too. When someone starts an all out fight with gloves and helmets off and proper punches thrown and then, when it's ended by the officials he skates a victory lap of sorts while slapping his hands together in a brushing motion indicitave of a job well done he deserves to be punched in his fat, bald head. Shanahan obliged.

I can hear you out there asking, "But Kizz, you always say you like the goons?" Eh, sort of. I like smart and evil, really. Or smart and crazy...and occasionally evil. Let's look at the stats:

Penalty minutes
Brashears: 19+ (I lost count around 15 and before he was ejected from the game)
Kasparaitis: 0

Goals
Brashears: 0 (I'm not sure he even handled the puck this game)
Kasparaitis: 1

National Anthems sung
Brashears: 0 (I'm assuming since I didn't see him sing and he showed no other inclination toward the verbal)
Kaspairitis: 1

I'm not saying that Kaspar doesn't hit. I'm not saying he doesn't sometimes even hit dirty, but he rarely gets caught. He's not grandstanding and instigating for the sake of it, he's actually playing the game. I watched him closely enough this game to say that I would probably have to kick him in the groin frequently if we ever hung out but I still love him, I'd just need him to be quiet. He does not shut up. The only time he shuts his ever loving trap is when the play is in progress and he is on the ice. He talks on the bench, he talks in the time out, he talks while penalties are assessed, he talks while they set up for a face off, he talks to officials, to teammates, to coaches, to himself, blah blah blah blah blah! Good lord boy stop running your mouth already. He's like the class clown or something. Cute as a button, though. A very craggy and deformed button.

What I'm saying here is that I don't have use for the Berserkers. (Berserkers: Celtic warriors who, as the name suggests, went berserk on the battlefield. You didn't want to be on the field with them, even if they were on your side. They worked themselves up into some sort of all-encompassing rage and then just went in swinging with their pointy, pointy weapons without regard for who was shirts and who was skins on any given day.) If you're just wildly swinging your...sword around to swing it, without regard for who you're hitting or who you're helping that's not appealing. It takes no skill or finesse or thought, where's the sexy in that? Nowhere I tell you. I want you to be throwing a hip and breaking a jaw for the good of the team not just because you like the crunchy noise when the bone breaks. One is creepy and the other has a caveman-like charm.

I enjoy the caveman-like charm.

And, woof, there was a lot of it tonight. Kaspar, Hollweg, Shanahan, even poor Ward who got both a penalty and punched in the face for his well-timed unsportsmanlike conduct. It was awesome. Happy New Year to me!

Oh, and P.S. I also bought a new iPod with Apple Care and went to the post office at 10pm on a Saturday night. Ah the sexy things you can do in the big city. I was, however, not quite as styling as the young gentleman who was there at the same time on a Saturday night with his mommy...sending in his college application to Vassar.