“Next times these two will meet is January 19 in Philadelphia”
NBC you fucking idiots. That is today’s game not the next game.
What the fuck is actually wrong with you. How the hell do you even have this job
Maybe they got confused and thought it was October.
Twas the night before hockey, and all through the rinks,
Fans were all so excited, they couldn’t even think!
The stockings were hung in the player stalls with care,
In hopes that game time would soon enough be there.
The fans were nestled all snug in their seats,
Visions of toe drags dance and other dangly feats.
I in my helmet, friends in their toques
Painting our chests, like a couple of kooks.
From outside the arena, I heard such a noise,
I craned my neck o’er the crowd to see it was my boys -
There in the flesh, was the good old Finnish Flash,
At in his new Blueshirts jersey was the bearded Rick Nash!
They all walked off the bus and headed towards the ice,
Last of all Crosby, who stopped to talk to fans - so nice!
Now! Giroux, now! Toews, now! Stamkos and Horton,
On! Rinne, on! Datsyuk, on! Sedins, on! Perry and Thornton!
Skate across the blue line, and into the zone,
Pick your corners, careful not to get stoned!
Their skates freshly sharpened, the sticks newly taped,
Lids tightly strapped on, Patrick Kane wearing his cape!
They took to the corner, fighting for puck possession,
Showing off the proper forechecking aggression.
The passes extra crisp, the shots right on target,
Dekes going left and right, causing goalies to lose it,
The scribes in the press box write it all down,
All predicting who’ll take home the season’s crown.
Lord Stanley’s Cup, the players, their eyes on the prize,
Heating the ice with their competitive drive.
The intensity picks up, the slapshots getting harder,
The hits growing bigger, the goalies make saves with ardor,
Things are moving along now, no longer are they stuck,
#hockeyisback, so let’s get to it and drop the puck!