“….I’m a demolition man!”

(If you are a Police fan…you might like the clip. However, it’s pretty long - don’t say I didn’t warn you.)

I’m a sports nut - I would have to be, right? I have firm and fast rules that govern my support of my local teams and when to assess whether or not a fat lady will sing. I will not leave a ball park or an arena early unless I’m absolutely certain that my team has no chance of coming back from their deficit to win a particular contest. Besides, I always hated leaving early to “beat the traffic”…I think there are repressed memories of that happening to me when I was younger…

I mentally figure the chance of Brett Favre winging a comeback or if the Tampa Bay Lightning can score three in a row (twice!) against a rival opponent (sorry CasonBlog…lean times ahead for you I think…), or especially if the Phoenix Coyotes have a reasonable chance that snow may fall in hell before coming from behind to win.

I’m a pretty optimistic guy. In the new and improved NHL, three goal leads do not hold the mystique of years past. I laughed earlier this season when I saw a player on the bench mouth, “Okay, we got our three” only to struggle in the third period with a surging and desperate hockey club bent on stealing a win.

I have a reliable rock-solid DVR system. Thanks to the three hour time difference on the east coast, most hockey nights for me are double headers. I don’t fast forward through many games because I still actually believe that my team can pull through and work it out - or at the very least, make it competitive.

Last night was the first time EVER that I fast forwarded through a game from the ten minute mark. When the St. Louis Blues went up 2-0, and I saw how utterly flat the Phoenix Coyotes were, like the junior high jazz band trying to hit the high notes, it was enough to drive me to drink… copious amounts…mass quantities.

The three people I felt sorry for? That would be Shane Doan (who showed class by stepping out for an interview to explain what happened), Keith Ballard (who checked, fought, and assisted), and Curtis Joseph (who now has to wonder if passing Terry Sawchuk will ever be a reality for him).

The rest? I’m not sure who showed up and who didn’t. The game was over in 45 minutes for me.

Frankly, I don’t care. Many of you know that I’m next to a Coyotes apologist, believing that it can get better. I really thought it would. However, if this is a taste of pre-season, someone on the bench should get out that can of whoop-ass and show them how it’s done.

With the pull of the Great One as like, the best ever, it falls on him to let his team know that this will not stand. It’s time to drop the mystique of Gretzky as a nice guy, legendary player, to Wayne Gretzky, head coach. Personally, I can’t begin to fathom just why professional athletes need motivation, but hey whatever, I just write a blog.

I had plans to watch every game until the dying end, but I’m not so sure that I’ll be catching the final three, but it’s still an addiction, a weakness to root for bad teams. I just expect that next year we are not treated to the same tripe that tries to pass for delicacy.

Original post by PB and software by Elliott Back

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