So here is the new home of my personal blog. New home, new name, same attitude!
With the events of the past week, I have written on my other blogs from the “politically correct” perspective. After all, as an aspiring journalist, you have to be objective and recluded from emotion. Of course, that’s according to some of the boys at TSN. I say bullshit!!
We all grow up liking and hating hockey teams. You don’t just turn that off. Over the years, I’ve grown to loath the Boston Bruins. There always seems to be one player on their roster that gets in my craw.
And to that the charasimatic and sometimes detached Don S. Cherry. Good ol’ Grapes put his two cents in on the entire Max Pacioretty – Zdeno Chara incident. Check it out:
I have to give the old fart credit. Angled glass would certainly help curve the sudden impact of a vertical stanchion. The problem I have with Cherry is either he speaks about Montreal with that not-too-subtile hint of distaste of our city and its hockey team, or he talks as if Toronto is the centre of the hockey universe. If it is, then the rest of the hockey world must be a really fucked up place.
You know what, Mr. Cherry. You’ve been away from the bench for the better part of thirty years. Yelling isn’t coaching. Bitching about all that has gone wrong in your hockey career doesn’t constitute hockey knowledge. While I do admire your instistence on acknowledging our fallen heros in Afghanistan, I just can’t take your shtick anymore.
It’s the reason I’ve stopped watching Hockey Night in Canada altogether. That and the fact that everyone who works for CBC Hockey has a distaste for the Canadiens. Second to Cherry is that useless excuse for a backup goaltender turned analyst, Glenn Healy.
Let’s get one thing straight, Grapes. You are so disconnected with today’s game, it scares you. The clutch and grab days are behind us, and you couldn’t coach a team in this era on your best day. You’re a dinosaur, Grapes. A never was, who doesn’t have the balls to admit that he lost his job in Boston, not because of the Canadiens, but because of the hockey god that was behind their bench, Scotty Bowman. You couldn’t wear the man’s jock strap. You blame everything that ever happened to you on the Habs. I’ve got news for you, buddy. The problem is looking you in the mirror.