| Gordie |
| By jeremy |
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Gordie was out in the woods off his property in Alberta, Canada, wondering why it was that 1 out of every 4 Candanians are named Gordie. He wanted to get his mind off things, and nothing worked better than cutting the shit out of some trees. The whir of the chainsaw often helped him think, something he desperately needed once the NHL had officially cancelled it's 2005 season. |
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As he mowed through what little timber remained on his land, Gordie began to meditate deeper on the current state of professional hockey and how he could fill the remaining hours of the winter without his blessed Maple Leafs to follow. True, there was always beer, but how good could a cold one really taste without the true spirit of Canada to toast to?
Suddenly, Gordie realized that the NHL no longer represented the true spirit of Canada, that American interests had taken his national sport and corrupted it into a sick and twisted version of what had once been a graceful, noble game. What should be played on sheets of Canadian winter ice was being played on artifically cooled basketball courts in places like Tampa, and Anaheim. That game no longer held the spirit it once did, it had been emptied into a sport where millionaires strove to smash each other into pulp in the neutral zone. That, and the commissioner was a little weenie. |
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His crisis of faith answered, Gordie returned to his home for a nice fire and yes, some beer. Imagining himself throwing his old allegiances and beliefs into the flames, he tossed pieces of the lumber he had just deforrested into a crackling fire. Only time would tell what kind of new hockey would rise, phoenix-like, from the ashes of a hockey lock out. The only thing Gordie was sure of, was that he would be there to welcome it with open arms. |
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