...so far. The road to the Stanley Cup will almost definitely run through Anaheim or Chi-Town. But in the East well...who knows. Boston and Pittsburgh look like obvious favourites. As far as my beloved TML's are concerned, they not only have to make the playoffs, but home ice is paramount. Leafs Nation knows all too well that there is still lots of time to "shit the bed". I ALMOST put my fist through my 60" plazma at the end of game 7 last year. That loss still stings and will continue for some time. But at least they have shown that they compete against the Bruins the last couple of years.
I've noticed countries that enjoy longer winters do better in the Winter Olympics. USA men played a close hockey game, but were shutout. They must've been worn out, because Finland spanked them 5-0 for the Bronze. Host Russia is sitting on top of the medal count. NHL hockey resumes soon: Ducks might do it this year, though I like the success the Blues have had so far. Your Maple Leafs need to catch up to the Bruins.
I feel you're pain....I really do. We have had our share of heartbraaking losses also ( see World Juniors the last few years). But really...? Was there any doubt which team would win the these two games. I don't wanna sound like a cocky canuck, but we really are the greatest and most decorated hockey nation. Yes we love Baseball ( go Jays!) and Football. But hockey...? It's in our hearts and minds...and imbedded in our souls. Anything less than Olympic Gold is completely unacceptable. I am really happy that both games were very, very good. The women"s had just about everything you could ask for in a Gold medal game, eh? Mens too...but a little less dramatic. Any ways...on a side note... being a big Toronto Maple Leafs fan I was really hoping Kessel and JVR would do well and I really thought the U.S were gonna win this game, going on how the two teams looked going into it. I doubted myself.....it'll never happen again.
Team USA is about to take the ice vs the Canadian men: hope the U.S. grabs the gold in this match. The USA women gave away their hockey gold yesterday in a heartbreaking loss .
"Look, when I was a kid, I inhaled frequently. That was the point."
- Barack Obama
"Do you have blacks, too?"
- George W. Bush to Brazilian President Fernando Cardoso, Wash. D. C., Nov. 8, 2001.
"Goodbye from the world's biggest polluter." - the parting words to world leaders at his final G-8 summit, punching the air and grinning widely at those who looked on in shock, Rusutsu, Japan, July 10, 2008
- George W. Bush
"You work three jobs?....Uniquely American, isn't it? I mean, that is fantastic that you're doing that."
- George W. Bush to a divorced mother of three, Omaha, Nebraska, Feb. 4, 2005
"You know, one of the hardest parts of my job is to connect Iraq to the war on terror."
- George W. Bush's interview with CBS News' Katie Couric, Sep. 6, 2006
I have sat there and seen the winter days finish their short-spanned lives; and all the globes of light crimson, emerald, and pallid yellow start, one by one, out of the russet fog that creeps up the river. But i like the place best on these hot summer nights, when the sky hangs thick with stifled colour, and the stars shine small and shyly. Then the pulse of the city is hushed, and the scales of the water flicker golden and oily under the watching regiment of lamps.
The bridge clasps its gaunt arms tight from bank to bank, and the shuffle of a retreating figure sounds loud and alone in the quiet. There, if you wait long enough, you will hear the long wail of the siren, that seems to tell of the anguish of London till a train hurries to throttle its dying note, roaring and rushing, thundering and blazing through the night, tossing its white crests of smoke, charging across the bridge into the dark country beyond.
In the wan, lingering light of the winter afternoon, the parks stood all deserted, sluggishly drowsing, so it seemed, with their spacious distances muffled in greyness: colourless, fabulous, blurred. One by one, through the damp misty air, looked the tall, stark, lifeless elms. Overhead there lowered a turbid sky, heavy-charged with an unclean yellow, and amid their ugly patches of dank and rotting bracken, a little mare picked her way noiselessly. The rumour of life seemed hushed. There was only the vague listless rhythm of the creaking saddle.
The daylight faded. A shroud of ghostly mist enveloped the earth, and up from the vaporous distance crept slowly the evening darkness. A sullen glow throbs overhead: golden will-o'-the wisps are threading their shadowy ribbons above golden trees, and the dull, distant rumour of feverish London waits on the still night air. The lights of Hyde Park Corner blaze like some monster, gilded constellation, shaming the dingy stars. And across the east, there flares a sky-sign, a gaudy crimson arabesque. And all the air draped in the mysterious sumptuous splendour of a murky London night.
- Hubert Montague Crackanthorpe
from 'Vignettes: A Miniature Journal of Whim and Sentiment'.