Whoa -- Jean-Pierre Allard was out at the mall the other day when he came across Edna Babblecock, out for a walk and eager to share her opinion of Senators coach John Paddock (pictured, right, with an unidentified player).
Jeez, in the aftermath of Rogers Everything Entertainment offering subscribers, for the modest sum of $18.95 a month, a digital blackout of the Leafs hockey games that comes with the guarantee that it will always work, even when Ray Emery is their number one goaler and Wade Redden makes their fans long for Larry Murphy, we here at the stinking old Lodge are thinking that any minute now, some smart Alex from Sadie Hall will declare our region as the Ottawa Senators Centre Of The Universe (OSCOTU).
And yet, there is something very rotten in the state of Senate Never Neverland.
Am I the only crazed broad who can see clearly that the Ottawa Sporting Senate Snores Of Sorts (OSSSOS) missed the O-Train when it left Carpville Station last November and now are thanking their lucky Willie Stargell Stars that they’re still a very close-knit, rolling-in-the-flourdough family. That despite all of them late flight arrivals, timely fights and skate-by-shooting accidents of late and regardless that their head-case coach Padlock is making everything in his power that is necessary to break up their A-TE game and put them behind the eight-ball by the playoffs.
So get this, Monday at practice in Montreal (before the Sens played just well enough to lose 4-3 to the Canadiens), that Padlock dude comes in and tells his smarting crews the following:
"OK, let’s talk now and fight later at practice, seeing you sons of bitches won’t even put up a fight against the Toronto Scarmarloboroughs and are playing like you want me fired."
He then goes on:
"Now, just because you don't like my calling you gutless pukes in the papers or the way I've totally fuddled up the goalie situation or maybe because I refuse to learn the intricacies of eight-ball play doesn't mean you guys have to show me up on the ice. Like, it's bad enough I look like I’m trying to stay awake out there, even when that pest Ovechkin is skating figure 8s around number 6 and the other spineless snorts.
"But I'm cool with that because see, Professor Murray already made his mind up I'm toast in this fickle town, the second he saw me behind the frickin’ all-star game bench with my daughter. But in my defence and to be fair to anyone else, even that poor Gerber, I thought that if Alfie can bring in his dog during the playoffs, then why can’t my darling who, don’t you think, looks a lot like that Page girl from Juno, be allowed to help me coach a real team?
"So Bryan's thinking of Fedexing me to Tampa straight up for Andre Roy and John Tortorella and I'm cool with that guys, because there’s a whole lot less snow down there, and I won't have to smile for so many cameras, plus I really think Roy -- Andre, not Mlakar -- is the answer to the Senators’ struggles as he will rub his Cup ring into the faces of all those softies and make them accountable to him, not to Mike Fisher or Jason Spezza.
So thanks a lot for zilch, though we all know it’s the media that caused all this mess in the first place when the LSD-flash backers started comparing us to the one and only 1976-77 Habs. Like, as if they would even think of doing that in Hockeytown, despite their Red Wings looking more and more like they want to bring Detroit a fourth Cup in the last 10 years.
Say, Hortense, is that what is generally referenced to as a "Dynasty?"
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