Yesterday, after a particularly vicious verbal assault on a sales associate at the cell phone store, I was told that I was a “mean spirited, selfish, and awful human-being.” My response to this harsh indictment of my character must have been more impetuous than I believed, as it inspired a tired, heavy-set security guard sitting in the corner to rise with great aplomb, and make her way towards the counter. Now this blatant act of aggression momentarily awoke my inner Tae-Kwon-Do demon, however what little sense I still possessed returned just in time to expedite my already hasty retreat back to the car.
But I wasn’t always this way, you know.
Until Detroit beat the Anaheim Ducks in game seven of their first round series I was a kind, and caring man. A virtuous man, if you will. And thus I’m convinced my erratic behavior stems from this incident. You see my hatred for the Red Wings is so potent, so intoxicating, that I’m now exhibiting sociopathic tendencies.
So how can I fix this? I ask myself.
Well the answer, sadly, is that I can’t. I’m awful on skates and my continued efforts to contact Hawks coach Joel Quenneville with advice on how to change up the lines has been met with considerable disdain. The Blackhawks, on the other hand, have the power to heal. They can pound on the Red Wings with such complete abandon that perhaps my illness will be vanquished along with Detroit’s tenure in the Western Conference. Here are some thoughts on how to save my soul.
The Hawks must continue their humiliation of Pavel Datsyuk. In four games this season Datsyuk has failed to notch a single point. His five shots on goal over that span and plus/minus -2 put him into the conversation for chump, and not player, of the year. If the Hawks can keep him in the gutter I feel confident the road ahead will lead towards recovery and not Motown.
Likewise for Detroit captain Henrik Zetterberg. Through five games versus the Ducks, Zetterberg had failed to score a goal and sat on three points. The Wings were down 3-2 in the series and all was well. In the final two games he added five points to his total and suddenly the nightmare that is D-town became a reality. Would I rather be wandering the streets of Detroit late at night versus an eventual trip to Anaheim and Disneyland? Absolutely. However it wouldn’t hurt to have a weapon or two.
Speaking of, it’d be nice to see the Hawks bust out their own firepower. Considering that Chicago is capable of putting Jonathan Toews, Patrick Kane, Marian Hossa, and Patrick Sharp all out on the ice at the same time, it strikes me as a crime that the power play isn’t more effective. For the sake of my mother and her awful little lapdog, we need to build two and three goal leads early on in the series if I’m going to make it out of this in one piece.
Finally, I feel it’s necessary to remind one Mr. Corey Crawford of how completely he has embarrassed Detroit this year. He’s allowed only five goals in four games and recorded a shutout—two if you discount the garbage goal scored with 40 seconds remaining during the 7-1 Easter morning massacre—to go along with the punking he twice put on the Wings in shootouts. Chicago is the mob, Corey, and the mob is fickle. Win us over and win your freedom.
If the Hawks can continue to play their current brand of hockey, I’ve got to believe my sickness can be cured in five games, Just to be safe, however, I plan to wear a surgical mask during all home games so that I don’t infect anyone on the team.
What? You wouldn’t want to sit next to a scruffy looking loudmouth with an over-sized finger on one hand and a mask on his face?
Now who’s being selfish?