Volume 96, Issue 98
Thursday, April 3, 2003

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The best game you can name

It's that time of year again. Time to ditch your homework, trudge out to the bar and drink yourself silly – OK, we'll be more specific. The National Hockey League playoffs are just around the corner, which means several things, including grades, will be falling by the wayside in order to make room for the great Canadian game. Just in case you didn't notice, here's a few signs that the playoffs are coming:

Don Cherry will be ranting every second night instead of once a week: Just think, instead of hearing Cherry's pro-war rhetoric for five minutes a week, now you get to hear why Canada is letting the world down by not killing people in Iraq with much more frequency. Stick to hockey, Don.

Unprecedented downloading of Stompin' Tom Connors: Tom will soon be allying himself with Metallica in an attempt to get some royalties from the one song he wrote that everybody in Canada can sing along to. C'mon, everybody together now, "The best game you can name, is the good ol' hockey game."

Chickens are dying by the honey-garlic basket load: Oh, to be a chicken in this time of mass bar-food consumption. The only group with more fear in their eyes come playoff time is Ottawa Senators fans.

Detroit residents get that rioting gleam in their eye: The only downfall to the Red Wings being a perennial powerhouse in the playoffs is that it just gives Motor City dwellers another reason to start fires. Can somebody please explain the correlation between sporting triumphs and mass looting?

Montreal Canadiens fans don't leave their houses: How the mighty have fallen. Remember when the Canadiens were a fixture in post-season play? Now, sad-sacked Habs fans can do nothing more than watch the video of the team's 1993 Stanley Cup triumph and wipe away their tears with their girlfriend's Josť Theodore posters.

Canadians stop going through the pretense that they care about any other sport: Basketball? Football? Go back to Indiana. When the chips are down, hockey fever grips this country and leaves nothing in its wake.

Grown men everywhere stink more and shave less: The truth is, deep down inside, many men still think they can play in the NHL. This shines through every spring when they support the team by not changing their clothes – so as to not change the luck – and grow a playoff beard, which will theoretically put their squad over the top. Hey, does that mean hippies are the biggest hockey fans ever?




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