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NHL October 2014 |OT| Leafs Suck, And Then You Die

C

Calamari41

41 > 38
Cake Boss said:
Bz33KudCIAINg4T.jpg


:lol
Click to expand...

Jesus that's what the Pond looks like two hours before the game starts, right after they open the doors. I can't imagine watching a hockey game like that.
 
C

Calamari41

41 > 38
Quick I hate your new creation. It is a monstrosity and it must die.

Also, don't think I forgot about that time you shopped our beloved Ducks into Kings jerseys.

We will never forget. That was our 9/11.
 
D

Dastardly Jerks

Banned
1987. Petersborough, Ontario.

The long hard road. The coach bus whirring and sputtering like old dodgy Russian machinery. The light reflected off the cold early morning snow straight into my eyes like the bright lights of New York Times Square. I sat back in my seat and breathed the good ol' Canadian air, my assistant next to me, a hamster clad in proud Toranna blue and white agreeing with my mental insinuations "oooh the good ol' hockey game", that it was kid... That it was. We'd heard words on the Grapes vine for a while now, and we had to see for ourselves. Luke Richardson. Good Ontario kid playing in the OHL. One brief glance and you could tell this kid was due for the big Toranna lights. My assistant agreed "the best game you can play". The bus slowly creaked to a halt, like some sort of lazy Russian skater trying to backcheck. I scooped up my assistant, his excitement energising us as we left the bus "and the best game you can play...". We entered the Petes training rink, the air of historic Petersborough players still lingering in the atmosphere. Gretzky, Yzerman, Gainey... "is the good old hockey game" my assistant rhythmically noted in unison with my thoughts. God love 'em.

And there he was, like a stalwart Moose with a mountie permanently stuck on its back. Luke Richardson. Ontario had been pumping out talent like a World War I missile factory had pumped out commie bustin' missiles. "ooooh the good ol' hockey game" my assistant yelled, emanating my every thought that ran through my head, but could never leave my mouth and the words instead had to escape through my eyes in the form of tears. "SAPERB... ABSALOOTELY SAPERB" I finally managed to let slip after watching Luke takeaway from a speeding oncoming commie kid, and then proceed to sit there staring forward with a blank look in his eyes, obviously filled with a military-like discipline. No showboatin'. No skatin' around. Just good ol' Ontario kid play done the white way. "and the best game you can play" my assistant remarked, obviously emphasising how good this shining beacon of Ontarios play was. I grabbed him and held him next to me, arm draped around him like a fellow soldier, his rhythmic dancing doing all the talking for the both of us.

My assistant and I went to the local Timmys to compose ourselves. A double double and a Boston Cream later, I picked out a quarter from my coat pocket and got on the dial to Gerry. He had to hear it for himself. He had to know.

"Gerry, this kid I tell ya... Like Bobby Orr"

"... I know, Cherry. But the others aren't convinced"

"Let me talk to 'em Gerry, this year. This kid. This talent. Gerry. we gotta make him a Leaf. It's gotta happen."

"I don't need any convincing Don, it's the others... Here, I'll put them on"

Don waited with what felt like a lifetimes worth of clicks on the end of the phone as it transferred from department, to department, to department, before finally reaching the scouting department...

"ALRIGHT LISTEN UP YA GOOFBALLS HERE'S THE SCOOP ON THIS LUKE RICHARDSON KID. NOW YOU LISTEN UP..."

The scout sharply, but objectively, interrupted...

"... Ooooh the good ol' hockey game"
 
D

Dastardly Jerks

Banned
I refuse to let my fanfic be a last page post.

Dastardly Jerks said:
1987. Petersborough, Ontario.

The long hard road. The coach bus whirring and sputtering like old dodgy Russian machinery. The light reflected off the cold early morning snow straight into my eyes like the bright lights of New York Times Square. I sat back in my seat and breathed the good ol' Canadian air, my assistant next to me, a hamster clad in proud Toranna blue and white agreeing with my mental insinuations "oooh the good ol' hockey game", that it was kid... That it was. We'd heard words on the Grapes vine for a while now, and we had to see for ourselves. Luke Richardson. Good Ontario kid playing in the OHL. One brief glance and you could tell this kid was due for the big Toranna lights. My assistant agreed "the best game you can play". The bus slowly creaked to a halt, like some sort of lazy Russian skater trying to backcheck. I scooped up my assistant, his excitement energising us as we left the bus "and the best game you can play...". We entered the Petes training rink, the air of historic Petersborough players still lingering in the atmosphere. Gretzky, Yzerman, Gainey... "is the good old hockey game" my assistant rhythmically noted in unison with my thoughts. God love 'em.

And there he was, like a stalwart Moose with a mountie permanently stuck on its back. Luke Richardson. Ontario had been pumping out talent like a World War I missile factory had pumped out commie bustin' missiles. "ooooh the good ol' hockey game" my assistant yelled, emanating my every thought that ran through my head, but could never leave my mouth and the words instead had to escape through my eyes in the form of tears. "SAPERB... ABSALOOTELY SAPERB" I finally managed to let slip after watching Luke takeaway from a speeding oncoming commie kid, and then proceed to sit there staring forward with a blank look in his eyes, obviously filled with a military-like discipline. No showboatin'. No skatin' around. Just good ol' Ontario kid play done the white way. "and the best game you can play" my assistant remarked, obviously emphasising how good this shining beacon of Ontarios play was. I grabbed him and held him next to me, arm draped around him like a fellow soldier, his rhythmic dancing doing all the talking for the both of us.

My assistant and I went to the local Timmys to compose ourselves. A double double and a Boston Cream later, I picked out a quarter from my coat pocket and got on the dial to Gerry. He had to hear it for himself. He had to know.

"Gerry, this kid I tell ya... Like Bobby Orr"

"... I know, Cherry. But the others aren't convinced"

"Let me talk to 'em Gerry, this year. This kid. This talent. Gerry. we gotta make him a Leaf. It's gotta happen."

"I don't need any convincing Don, it's the others... Here, I'll put them on"

Don waited with what felt like a lifetimes worth of clicks on the end of the phone as it transferred from department, to department, to department, before finally reaching the scouting department...

"ALRIGHT LISTEN UP YA GOOFBALLS HERE'S THE SCOOP ON THIS LUKE RICHARDSON KID. NOW YOU LISTEN UP..."

The scout sharply, but objectively, interrupted...

"... Ooooh the good ol' hockey game"
Click to expand...
 
Q

Quick

Banned
Calamari41 said:
Quick I hate your new creation. It is a monstrosity and it must die.

Also, don't think I forgot about that time you shopped our beloved Ducks into Kings jerseys.

We will never forget. That was our 9/11.
Click to expand...

Accepting Kessel into your heart means accepting acceptance.
 
M

MetatronM

Unconfirmed Member
19 & 21 said:
Shit like this is why I wish they would sell the story of why certain ideas even happened/were greenlit. I would actually buy some of those stories at least.
Click to expand...

I love thinking about this sort of thing. It happens when I see godawful commercials on TV all the time (which is really most commercials). Mostly because I work in commercials and get to see/hear about all the inane back and forth of how these things come about on a daily basis.

Next time you watch any commercial, just sit and ponder for a moment the fact that the shirt worn by the main actor in it was chosen at the end of a laborious multi-hour process out of racks and racks and racks of clothes by a committee of people of varying importance (I say any commercial because this is literally the process for pretty much EVERY commercial in existence other than like local auto mattress dealers, no matter how bullshit the product). It's the same for pretty much every other tiny little detail you see on screen.

And then try to answer: "why?"
 
M

MetatronM

Unconfirmed Member
Panic button time. Kostka and cocaine are coming to save the day!

Duclair-St.Louis-Nash
Kreider-Brassard-Stempniak
Hagelin-Hayes-Zuccarello
Malone-D.Moore-Glass

McDonagh-Girardi
Staal-Kostka
J.Moore-Klein

Lines and pairings at morning skate. Malone is also working the PP, so it looks like he's in.
 
S

Samyy

Member
Merguson said:
Maybe after.. say ten games where internal analtyics would have a sample size to suggest changes. Assuming those suggestions are accepted.
Click to expand...

Well you have all of last year's data as well, they spend almost 60% of their time in their own end, what other first line does that? Besides Buffalo or something.
 
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