I hate playing the Mighty Ducks. There's no glory in winning. They're literally a Mickey Mouse team. They're an unnatural abberation. They can only suck. If you lose to them, it's the ultimate humiliation. Michelle had to actually remind me last year that the Ducks beat us one year to go on the win the Stanley Cup. Apparently, I'd blotted out the memory. Well, it took seven games, but we beat these fuckers by a point. Not a single goal from Pavel Datsyuk. I hope my boys pull it together against the Blackhawks. We still have their captain, by the way. I'm hoping that the Wings play a little more normally now that we're not playing the bad karma team from hell.
Grading this weekend. Yippee! I want to write. Kirk gets to play more Civ than me and I'm jealous. I guess I'm just grouchy all around. But we beat the Ducks. I refuse to accept that as an accomplishment. But I have a sinking feeling in my stomach that it is, and that makes me edgy and unhappy. Their defense looked awfully good. It wasn't all Jonas Hiller.
But we advanced. And Chris Osgood's goals against average for the playoffs are 2.06 and his save percentage is 0.921. Everyone who whined about my boy Ozzie can go fuck themselves.
Bring on the Hawks.
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