Leafs of Fury

This is a re-post of my article written for the great Pension Plan Puppets, from Thursday. It's here to give everyone who hasn't already read it on PPP a chance to see it. All none of you.

When Brian Burke and his collection of thesauruses became Leafs GM last November, a (Leafs) nation so used to absorbing the polite banalities of say, Stephen Harper, or the completely made up writing of say, Howard Berger, turned on its collective heel, not quite knowing what to make of such a Sassy Sally.

Much, much, much has been made of Burke's supposed use of the word "truculent", a 16th century word, meaning, in part, "fierce; cruel; and savagely brutal. I say supposed because I actually never heard him Burke say it, and I figure it could be turning one of those "Play it again, Sam" things; something which everyone believes was said, but never actually was.

Now before all you awesome joke killers little darlings fill the comments section with a thousand Toronto Sun links showing Burke's quote, let's just look at the point Burke was making when using the term: That win or lose, your Toronto Maple Leafs are going to be something we're all going to be proud of, really, really and enjoy watching.

Remember, this is a team that, just two years ago, was hoping that that plate of Hamburger Helper on skates - Kyle Wellwood - was going to be its first line centre. Wellwood, a player only a mother could love, and by mother, I mean Navin from Sports and the City, is like that girl/boyfriend from your past you just can't believe you went out with, but, you know, you're stronger now, and you'd never be that stupid again. Wellwood is an embarrasment to the fucking Vancouver Canucks, let alone the Leafs. At least the Leafs saved face by dumping him.

So what can we expect from the 09/10 Leafs? How fierce; cruel; and savagely brutal will they be? Let's ask the trembling chicken hearts beating in the "chests" of the Ottawa Senators, or the little people in Montreal who get to face the Leaf monsters all season. On Saturday night. In front of their parents. Here's a future echo of the truculence the Leafs will have this season: Want more proof? Please note that Bruce Lee is the Alternate captain.

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I get a lot of fan mail here at He Score, He Shoot!. Hockey guys mostly, shut ins, some sluts; long time listeners, first time writers. They fawn a lot, which is nice. There is something though that every single one of the literally tens of letters I have gotten have in common: they all ask me if I hate Ottawa as much as I write I do.

You just can't, they write. It's unhealthy to be filled with that kind of blah blah blah, they reason. Massive coronary, they warn. Using a lot of words and sentences that end in exclamation points. I write these fans back, sometimes in my own blood, sometimes in others' and tell them that they should mind their own goddamned fuckin' asshole business.

But seeing as everyone has asked and seeing as we're a few weeks removed from the chummed waters of free agent signings. With all the interesting stories already written and the fear that Kaberle could turn into this summer's Sundin. His where, when and for what replacing last summer's will he, won't he, why wouldn't he? as most annoying by- line.
And there being a really obscene amount of times between posts here at HS/HS. Let me answer the question honestly and objectively.

Ottawa: Oh , How I Hate Ye

It was this Canada Day where I really enjoyed the Dany Heatley saga. Because I was imagining those filthy bastards. The whole crusty-healed throng sitting on the 'hill', wondering aloud, "les odeurs d'air comme farts, uh?". Shaking their fists in between polite applause for the entertainment. Between those kids who dance from Otter Lake and that girl fiddler, just after their hit of angel dust or Molson Canadian (or whatever gets them through their day) they'd bemoan.
"That godamn 'Eatley.'
"I hate dat godamn guy, me." Someone would answer.
"Dat friggin guy." Another would say.
"....godamn Murray." They'd all say in unison, raising their fists like they're the gold and bronze medalists (respectively) of the 200 metres at the 1968 summer games in Mexico City.
"That guy's an arsehole." Someone would yell.

Max Keeping would be onstage saying gidday and wearing something embarrassing. You can bet that at some point in the afternoon you were going to hear him lisp, "Ladies and Gentlemen... The Nylons!"

J.J Clarke, (my 2nd most hated Clarke after Bobby) would be standing on Sparks Street telling the people watching at home that it's sweater weather and to be wary of the wind chill, and that, oh yeah, that OC Transpo has a special ride all day for $25 Canada Day promotion so there is no reason to drive and drive.
The look of panic on J.J's face as obvious as a neon coldsore, and the flop sweat pooling around his neck suggest that J.J. has already had too many 7 and 7's.
(I've heard that he lost all his money investing in a Planet Hollywood in Manotick.) Whatever it is, J.J. looks like a man who took a very hard kick to a very fat stomach.

Somewhere near the CJOH van Chris Neil would be selling cigarettes to school kids and bullying others. The sleeves of his too-tight jean jacket would be pushed up as he'd yell "2 for flinching!" at the passerby.

And it would be there, close enough to hear the skateboarders not landing any tricks at the War Memorial that you could close your eyes and take it all in; Ottawa: A loud roar of nitrate, trans-fatty acid and Pepsi burps.

Kovalev Leaves Habs. Cuts Off Nose, Spites Face

When news that Alex Kovalev had been booted from the Lollipop Guild Montreal Canadiens reached me at the charity I do wonderful un-publicized work for, the first thing that struck me was, "Hey, keep it down, I'm operating!" The second, was, "Awesome! Now I get to write a post ripping a team other than the Ottawa Senators!" Ah, silly. Why are the beautiful ones always so dumb?

Ignoring the obvious fact that Kovalev signed with Ottawa merely to get a chance to stick it to Bob Gainey and the rotten-hearted Kostitsyn brothers 10 times a year, lets just say that the Senators' hubris has reared its ugly, scarlett head, and once again, Ottawa gets the type of player it so richly deserves: Lazy, self-entitled, and, whenever they feel like it, prone to taking a couple months off. Months like January and March.

In spite of this, some Habs fans actually wanted to see Kovalev stay in Montreal, if only because he was the only member of their team who could reach the overhead compartment on the team bus. And amazingly, a hundred of them gathered at the Bell Center to show their support for the cause. I say amazing because this is the first time in history 100 Habs fans have gotten together without flipping over and burning a cop car.

But the real victims in a situation like this- the ones who will suffer the most from Kovalev leaving Montreal- are of course, the cities' stripper population. As the Bell Center rally was taking place, all over St. Catherines st. candlelight vigils were being held, at places like the Maison du Sexe. The strippers there, colloquially known as "Montreal's Other Smoked Meat", are devastated, as they know that Kovalev's absence means their earnings are projected to go down 12,000 percent.

Maison dancer Sylvie St. Germain* was quoted as saying:

"Dat Kovi, huh? He come in da one time wit Enrique Eglasias. Oooh we pardy-hardy dat nights! And da best part was, dey only hit me once! He will be miss."

* Not her real name