I’m writing from enemy territory today: Chicago. Famous for Sammy Sosa, deep dish pizza, that huge statue of Marilyn Monroe, and the dirty, rotten, stinkin’ Blackhawks.
Well, to be fair I’m not actually in Chicago. I’m in Waukegan. Yes, I know what you’re thinking, so here you go: Where’s Waukegan? (In case you don’t want to check out the link, it’s just north of the Windy City. Or, as Hockey Broad put it, Waukegan is “far suburban Chicagoland”.
I haven’t seen any Hawks paraphernalia around town just yet, but then again it’s 30 degrees Celsius hereabouts – not exactly jersey-wearing weather. Lots of Cubs and Bulls stuff on the streets, though.
Of all the places to send him. Sure, Toronto had an opening and a desperate need for a forward, after Danny Koevermans’ season was ended by a torn ACL. And, sure, a long goal drought had put Hassli in Martin Rennie’s doghouse, rendering him an overpriced (and expensive) late-game sub on most nights. But nobody deserves Toronto. Continue reading →
The old Pucked in the Head Douche-O-Meter has been blaring out Chelsea Dagger like nobody’s business this week. Between Daniel Tosh’s rape joke controversy, the season premiere of Big Brother and Cam Janssen commenting that he would kick the ass of any player he knew was fellating someone, the poor machine hasn’t had a break in days. Continue reading →
If you think it’s been a long time since a Canadian team hoisted the Stanley Cup, try being a British tennis fan.
In case you’re counting, the last time the Cup was won by a team north of the 49th parallel was in 1993, when Patrick Roy’s Montreal Canadiens beat Gretzky and the LA Kings in five games. A lot of people consider the Stanley Cup, and even hockey as a game, to be incontrovertibly Canadian, but since the Habs won 19 years ago, every championship series has gone to a US-based team. The Ottawa Senators, Calgary Flames, Edmonton Oilers and the Vancouver Canucks (twice) have appeared in finals since then, but northern fans have gone into the summer empty-handed and broken-hearted each time.
So, wah. The Brits haven’t celebrated a hometown men’s singles hero on Centre Court since the Great Frickin’ Depression. How long ago was that? Players wore PANTS during matches.