So yesterday my phone vibrates with a text message. Aside from the erection I grew from the sensation, I check my inbox (giggity) and see that my buddy Josh had an extra ticket to the match up versus the Suga 'Canes.
He's a real cool dude. Told me the ticket will cost me nothing but buying a few beers for him at the game. This was a sweet deal considering Josh weighs as much as a sweat-soaked jock, so he was a pretty cheap date. Puts out like a nun, but cheap nonetheless.
Traffic was hellish. And by "hellish" I mean I'd rather have the entire King James Bible read to me outloud by a meth-ridden Bobcat Goldthwait than sit in that standstill ever again.
But seeing as how I had a free ride, the Flyers still being #1 in the conference, and a wallet filled with mom's 20 dolla bills......I had very little to complain about.
Shame that wasn't the case with baby face, Jeff Skinner.
See, I actually liked Skinner. I rooted for the kid to do well all season long and (now hush, don't tell anyone) texted his name and jersey number to the NHL while they were asking for All Star votes.
"MIKE! YOU DIDN'T TEXT A FLYER!?!?"
No, because I don't give a shit.
Yea, so Skinner was playing a puck on the endboards during the 3rd period when Coburn decided to use him like Roethlisburger uses a martini filled slut. Jeff being the rookie he is, took the hit personally and got a penalty cheap shotting Braydon along the benches (charging).
But I'm getting ahead of myself.
Let's start from the beginning.
The 1st and 2nd period went well. It was pretty much a shot blocking show and center ice parade. Don't get me wrong -- I'd rather witness that than the Flyers getting blown to pieces (giggity) like they typically do after an extended break in their schedule.
But there were no fights, no scrums, no goals, no gigantic hits. The scare of the game came when Claude Giroux blocked a shot in the 2nd period with his knee. I'm sure that felt fantastic....frozen solid, vulcanized rubber pelting your knee cap at the speed of a New York city cab. It's like receiving a kiss from a comet.
However he did return later that same period and showed no signs of injury. But I bet he woke up this morning like Jack Woltz from The Godfather when he saw the swelling.
**Just as a side note, I tried ferociously to find a youtube video of that scene. I couldn't find anything that wasn't some piece of shit some douchebag cooked up in his basement and turned it into his own "art"**
Josh and I sat up in section 206 which was an awesome view of Ward getting shot on by the Flyers in the 1st and 3rd periods. But every luxury has its catch --
The Flyers went on three power plays in the first 40-minutes of regulation. Naturally while our boys skate in the offensive zone and shovel the puck around the points looking for opportunities, the attendance see it as a window to belt out "SHOOT!" as if the players have no f*cking clue how to win a hockey game.
I cannot express enough how much that frustrates me. I absolutely cannot stand some fourty-ton overweight hag with a chili dog in one hand and a Diet f*cking Coke in her other screaming man-advantage strategy like she has any damn idea what goes in and out of an ice hockey competition.
Sit down, Big Bertha, I'm sure Pronger knows when to, and when not to, open up without your concent. And lose the Recchi sweater already, ya shit heel.
Ontop of all of that, one guy even managed to squeeze in a "CROSBY SUCKS!" chant.............let that soak in............
1) We're not playing the Pittsburgh Penguins.
2) At the moment, Sidney Crosby is nursing a head injury on the IR --- which, for the record, I hope he responds well to. I'd hate to see one of the best talents in the world permanently effected by a one-time concussion. He has my best wishes.
3) That man feeds off of that chant so I hate it even more.
18-seconds into the 3rd period Jeff Carter threw a power play wrister into the back of Cam Ward's net (giggity), lighting the game's first lamp, Flyers 1 - 0.
Of course I wasn't in my Goddamn seat to see it. I was too busy paying for a hotdog and a burned pretzel from this female vendor who begs a new definition for the word, "behemoth". This woman's hands make Tony Robbins look like Verne Troyer. I hope to heaven her husband's just as large or bigger, or else he's got to feel like he's getting a handjob from the Utah Jazz simultaneously.
As the 3rd period grew deeper and deeper, my mind was racked with the possibilty of the Flyers gaining their first 2010-11 shut out.
Brian Boucher had come up huge (giggity) stopping all 17-shots from Carolina in the 1st and 2nd. After the 3rd period past its halfway point and the Hurricanes were still blanked, this had been the longest the Flyers played without getting scored on. And I was there. I was gonna physically witness our first shutout of the season.
Seconds after Danny Briere potted the Flyers second goal of the evening, Ruutu managed to rip and dig at the puck in Boucher's crease and got the dirty goal.
This depressed me. I mean....majorly depressed me. Look, we can go all the way to lifting the Cup this season without a shutout and I'd be happier than a cocaine-blocked nostril on Michael Irvin's face. But I want my shutout.
As you know, the Flyers are the last squad in the league this season without one. And to sit there biting my nails and skin off my fingers for 52-minutes only to get the rug pulled out from under me was an immensely deep-pit feeling.
I sat back in my seat, shut my eyes, grit my teeth and tried not the scream "F*CK!" at the top of my lungs since there was a child seated in front of me....
...the little bastard
But it is what it is, and the final buzzer sounded with a final score Flyers - 2, Hurricanes - 1.
It was a boring win, but a win's a win. Another 2-points added to the Conference standings bringing our total to 77, which is a commanding lead over the the next division leading Tampa Bay Lightning at 71, and 3 ahead of the Pittsburgh Penguins, 74.
The highlight of the game has got to go to BoyBand Jeff Skinner for receiving a big hit and crying to the officials. In fact Tyler texted me informing me head coach of the Carolina Hurricanes, Paul Maurice, was asked from the refs to speak with Skinner about curbing his complaints.
Like I said before, I actually liked this kid. But all of that was brushed aside the moment I saw what an unadulterated little bitch he is. So you got banged up, what of it? Happens to everyone. If you wanna dish a dissatisfaction to the official that's fine. But when you wind up looking like Lohan during a prison sentence then your dignity's shot up like Tupac's skull.
Rest in peace...."I WILL!"
Check out Sunday's match up when the Los Angeles Kings make their way East and into the Wells Fargo Center to face our Fly Guys, 7:00PM.
Good night. Good hockey.