St. Patrick Humbled by Dallas Demons
Once, a young upstart ruled the hockey world. They drank from the
championship cup - and it was good. They wore a strange garb,
indeed. A foot or paw could be seen adorned about their shoulders.
But then, their time had passed. The champions were felled by men
with Red Wings.
But alas, their time had come once again several summers later.
They vanquished the past rivals, those men with Red Wings.
They were led by a ruthless, stingy lad, the men with feet on their
shoulders. He could often be seen shaking his head wildly about,
such as a wolf shakes his head with prey in mouth to tear the meat
to shreds.
"What's up with those funky head-shakes, ya freak?" young villagers
could be heard asking in the Great Oval Court, the courtyard where
the kings of men play their game. It's a brutal game, yet full of
all the awe and greatness one sees in the lush northwestern
wilderness. It's a game called hockey.
That stingy fellow - the one known only as St. Patrick - holds court
in a strange and superstitious fashion much like the necromancer
brews his empowered concoctions. He can be seen dancing over the
boundaries of the court, perhaps fearing a fall over the imaginary
ruts his dark mind has created.
"He's a strange sort, that St. Patrick," ladies often said as they
watched his follies.
A new law and order came to town to challenge the men who wore feet
about their shoulders. They wore the green and gold, and were
empowered by the great star that adorned their chests. These brave
new sheriffs, despite their commonality, always found a way to
defeat their foes in the name of the defensive good.
They were lead by a man with piercing blue eyes, much like that of
the great Eagle, one of the best predators known on earth. His
mannerisms were quiet and confident, much like his cohorts.
They have a job to do, and they will labor at their job in
yeoman-like fashion, until all fight in their opponents has been
snuffed much like the flame of a candle.
The two great powers met in the oval court to wage war, and battle
for the right to challenge for that championship cup, the cup
fashioned by the chap known as Lord Stanley.
It is the greatest prize in all the land, and all that challenge for
the glory it possesses must pay the ultimate price. They must battle
for months on end in grueling wars that see many great warriors left
to the wayside, felled by the brutality and afflictions known by men
in the heat of battle.
But, they must persevere. There are many nights that make up this
war - indeed the battle is known as a Best of Seven - for the seven
nights one team can use (if necessary) to deliver the death blow to
the enemy.
The men with feet on their shoulders came to the court full of piss
and vinegar, much buoyed by their recent victory over the
red-winged men. Indeed they jeered at those jesters that held
court, lead by the taunting head-shakes of the man known as St.
Patrick.
That Patrick is a cold and cruel man. Every time he holds the
onslaught at bay he can be seen mocking the warriors, holding the
evidence of their attack high in the air in an honorless tradition
known as the Statue of Liberty. He held the dense black biscuit
used in the attack much like he would be holding the head of a
recent kill, to spark fear and loathing amongst his enemies.
"HA! You shall have no victory against St. Patrick today!" shouts
the stingy one, knowing none have been able to penetrate his netted
bunker. Alas, he stands there cocky like the (sunshine) he is.
During the first day of battle, that day known as Game One, the men
with Stars on their chest opened up the battle with resolution. The
starred ones flung their loathing of St. Patrick back at him with
passion, but time after time the stingy one would cast their anger
aside and mocked them for having even tried to penetrate his netted
bunker - his fortress.
The battle saw furious exchanges of vollies at either end of the
great oval court, with both the Eagle and the Saint trading
glorious defenses of the netted bunker.
That was until a foot-shouldered chap by the name of Kamensky
appeared to have deposited the black biscuit squarely behind the
Eagle. But as a witch may have cast a spell, the Eagle called upon
his magic to veil the biscuit from the jealous eyes in the sky.
It was veiled with a device known as the pillow, a device that
should have clearly been placed further back in the bunker than the
opening door posts that it was situated against. Thus, since
negating conclusive evidence that the biscuit had indeed
successfully penetrated the bunker, the men with the feet on their
shoulders were denied the spoils of their apparent success.
This impassioned the men with feet on their shoulders to strike
angry blow after angry blow towards the starred ones. Until they
had scored again, this time legitimately, once again at the hands
of Kamensky. Well, not exactly at his own hands.
One of the starred warriors, indeed their champion - the man known
as Modano - was betrayed by the very passion he cast towards the
foot-shouldered men. A shot from another foot-shouldered man was
cast towards the man known as Kamensky, instead bouncing off the
flinging arm of the starred-man known as Modano, into his own
netted bunker.
>From that point the men now known as the Avalanche cast a
suffocating net like an avalanche onto the starred men. The
Avalanche's skill was overwhelming to the starred men, who were
still clinging to the very strength of their defensive play close
to their chest.
The Avalanche forced the starred men, known as the Stars, to
reconsider their defensive mantra, perhaps opening up the
floodgates of shot after shot towards the stingy one known as St.
Patrick.
The second round of battle, known as Game Two, saw a remarkable
display of heart and will by the Stars. They opened up the battle
much like the first, a little tentative and cautious, and thus
never seriously challenged the bunker of St. Patrick. The Avalanche
then sensed their presumed pressure and turned the Stars own attack
back up the ice of the oval court back towards their backstopper
the Eagle.
The Eagle's eyes never betrayed him, however, as he spectacularly
mastered the art of the save by casting aside whatever potentially
crushing attack the Avalanche could muster. Indeed, the Eagle
fulfilled his destiny by so far proving his critics wrong.
For some times, the Eagle's eyes could play tricks on him, and he
would be lured into lashing out at his opponents with the blindness
that accompanies a man with fury in his heart. Not this day, you
knaves. The Eagle stood in his bunker valiantly and gave his team,
the Stars, a chance to go to St. Patrick with the resolution
necessary to vanquish him.
Indeed, the Stars known as Reid, Zubov (he's nuts), Nieuwendyk, and
Modano all violated the sanctity of St. Patrick's bunker this eve.
Patrick, the stingy one, could be seen pouting and shaking his head
dejectedly in his bunker, lamenting the vanquishing he suffered at
the hands of the Stars like a fool.
For the Stars' General, the silver-haired man known as Hitchcock,
had listened to the most respected elder warrior on the Stars, the
force known as Guy Carbonneau. Carbonneau had insisted he be given
the task of challenging the Avalanche's Peter the Great - indeed
the greatest and most feared of the Avalanche warriors.
For you see, the Stars champion warrior Modano was burdened by the
task of stopping Peter the Great, thus diluting their efforts at
vanquishing the defiant St. Patrick. If Carbonneau can hold the
great Peter at bay, Modano may be free to challenge St. Patrick's
defiance.
Carbonneau was thanked for his greatness by hearing the chanting of
"GUUYYY!" from the Dallas faithful every time he was part of the
play. And it was good.
This one change sparked the Stars' necromancers to produce the
proper concoction to challenge St. Patrick with the necessary
resolve, winning the contest 4-2. Thus, the Best of Seven series is
tied at one victory apiece.
And, the Stars shall meet the Avalanche on their own oval court some
two days hence. And the battle against the defiant and cocksure St.
Patrick shall continue...at least now St. Patrick has been bloodied.
He knows of his own mortality. The Eagle held Patrick in his claw
like prey- if only for one eve.
*And on a side note the Stars' great warrior known as Benoit Hogue
became the latest victim of the RAIRS affliction. This affliction,
known as the Reunion Arena Ice Rut Syndrome, mercilessly grabs the
skate of the hapless Stars and locks it to the ice like the
ruthless jaws of a shark - thus bending and possibly breaking the
soft interconnecting tissue of the joint known as the knee.
* The Stars warriors can soon see a boost by the return of their
great defensive workhorse known as Shawn Chambers. The current
defenseman have been greatly challenged by the task of holding the
Avalanche at bay, and will welcome the bolster of their ranks.
(For you imagination-impaired, the column will revert back to it's
usual golly- gee whiz-type proper Ainglish next time, MMMK?)
