Blackhawks win Stanley Cup in thriller
Screwed again. Screwed, hosed, jobbed. We are hated, again.
Brian Bickell and David Bolland stabbed North America in the spleen Monday night by scoring in the final two minutes of the Stanley Cup Final, thus propelling the Chicago Blackhawks to the title and robbing us of the fourth seven-game NBA/NHL combo in history.
And that is a flat-out rogering of the first order.
The Hawks cheated the reaper in Game 6 to win their second Cup in four years, which isn’t the point. What is the point is, a nation that is being burdened to breaking point and spied upon as we break, deserved a seventh game and didn’t get one. It would have been the first in 19 years, and only the fourth time ever, in which both the NHL and NBA went to the max.
1994: New York Rangers over Vancouver; Houston over New York Knicks.
1955: Detroit over Montreal; Syracuse over Fort Wayne.
1954: Detroit over Montreal; Minneapolis over Syracuse.
But no, we don’t get what we want. A great series dies one game too soon, and the NBA Finals ends up being better because it lasted longer. Life stinks. People stink. An NBA without Fort Wayne and Syracuse stinks. Damn it.
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Serena Williams won praise for her second and less preposterous Steubenville apology, a revision that frankly would not have happened or been needed if she hadn’t confused rape and sex. The two have nothing to do with each other, but more to the point, Serena got her cord. Hope it works for her.
Though we hope it works more for the victim.
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Carolina Panthers running back Jonathan Stewart was stunned to learn from The Sporting News that he was on the team’s injured list. Well, not the list so much, but the cause: The Sporting News listed him as having cancer, as opposed to post-operative rehabilitation from an ankle injury.
Though with any luck, the cancer story will turn up in case a midseason story talking about Stewart’s battle with adversity. Sure, it was only 24-hour cancer, but still . . .
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Among the things found in the flooded floor of the Calgary Saddledome was a particular artifact of the good old days when the Flames weren’t, well, cruddy.
The head of team mascot Harvey the Hound.
Harvey was best known for having his tongue torn out by Edmonton coach Craig MacTavish during a game, though being the most notable artifact of 300,000,000 gallons of brack may give Harvey a heroism it did not originally merit.
Then again, at least it wasn’t Hakan Loob’s head. That would have been creepy.
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Antoine Walker, the former NBA player and bankruptcy poster child, tweeted the following:
“Boston fans, its time for me to be the Celtics’ coach !!!!”
The reaction from the nation suggested that Walker’s clock is running way too fast. But if Rajon Rondo wants to tell Walker to f--- off in a team meeting, well, that’s entertainment.
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Alex Rodriguez is on Twitter. Because he’s an attention whore, or a punishment pony, or an idiot, I don’t know. You just needed to know before he pulls his account because of skazillions of tweets pointing out that he is Alex Rodriguez.
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50 Cent is hyping a potential fight between him and Floyd Mayweather, because the former business partners have had a falling out, but not so much of one that they can’t resist $5 million in free money.
“I’ll fight him, but Dec 14th is (too) soon,” tweeted Mr. Cent. “I would need time to get in shape. I’m 204 right now, (but if) I hit that boy he will see a white light.”
Is it okay to root for a double knockout on this one?
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And finally, Moody’s is downgrading the NCAA’s credit rating based in part on the potential lawsuit against the organization by Ed and Charles O’Bannon, in part because the organization is not very popular among thinking people these days, and in part because . . .
. . . well, because yippee huzzah, that’s why. Eat it, Emmert. What you didn’t do, you inherited, and what you inherited, you have to eat. And please show it on one of your far-flung networks so we can watch.