Lots of hockey thoughts to ramble over, but I think I'll save them for the offseason, when there ain't shit to write about. One thing that's been crawlin' around in the ol' noggin, and I'm sure I'll take some heat for this, is Marty Brodeur. Who gives a shit?!
Don't get me wrong, breaking the career wins is huge, and Brodeur is an awesome goaltender, no question. Maybe the best ever. But why does it feel like we gave up one asshole for another?
Patrick Roy was another great goaltender. He was also a prick. I'll never forget all his soap opera drama and tempertantrums, not to mention the biggest whamburger and french cries, when he up and quit the Montreal Canadiens in the middle of a game, after giving up nine goals on 26 shots in less than two periods. Even as a kid I could tell this guy was of shallow character, and a shitty human. But nonetheless, after his demand to be traded to a Cup contender, he won another two in Colorado, which does say something.
But Marteen's had his share of daytime TV limelight as Bangin Panger so eloquently elaborates, Not like Scott Gomez on 'One Life to Live,' but we can't all be that sexy. And we've all known he'd be breaking these records sooner or later. In fact, it seems like we've been celebrating it for years, and that's why I think I've had enough. Not to mention, the cutting of the net, that was a little too much for me, (about 3:18 in, if you can take all the Chico Resch cocksucking). Has March Madness caught up with Marty? I know, I know, if I had broke that record, I'd be cutting the net too. Or maybe I'd just take the whole fucking thing, iron and all, make it easy on myself, since after all, I had just won 553 games.
And oh they'll be more of these tedious celebrations, the shutout record, his wife receiving his annual alimony check, and the like. And we'll get even more, and more tired of Brodeur and his "records."