In Pursuit of Lord Stanley's Cup

So tonight was game two of the Stanley Cup Finals, the Boston Bruins versus the Vancouver Canucks, and Vancouver took the game eleven seconds into overtime.

I screamed. Again. I think the neighbors will pick up on the pattern soon, from the amount of Bruins paraphernalia I have everywhere from my dorm's door to my backpack to my jersey to my watch! At the end of game one, I screamed "Nooooo!" in a way to do Luke Skywalker and Simba proud. Tonight, I moaned as one who is in deepest mourning in between despairing cries of "What the eff was that?!? What the effing hell was that?!! Why him of all people?!?!" For lo and behold, who should score the game winner and have two goals and an assist, besides Burrows?

Burrows should have been suspended, hands down. He bit Bergeron, for crying out loud! But there he was, unpunished, inviting Lapierre to be his usual self and take the high road, rubbing it in Bergeron's face with the relish of a grade schooler sticking someone's head in the toilet. Glad to know that when Vancouver fans start to deride the Bruins for what happened in the last series against Tampa, they truly have the higher moral ground.

Has my sarcasm dripped off your screen yet? Because this is less than thinly veiled. This is what I hate most, when someone does something wrong and gets rewarded, not just in hockey, but everywhere else as well. And so for my hockey team to be getting burned by like this, is like taking some road rash, rubbing it with sand paper, dumping on some salt, and then pouring on lemon juice for good measure. However, it could still get worse. And so long as it can get worse, it can get better.

Two games at home up ahead! Here we go, Bruins! Here we go!

By the way, whoever decided the home games of the finals should be on Versus should be locked in a roomful of Bruins fans stuck with only basic cable at game time. That is all.