Friday, June 5, 2009
Crybabies? I think not......
I'm really fed up of hearing a lot of Habs fans complaining about Sidney Crosby whining, crying etc. These are the same people who would line up to kiss his skates should he ever sign in Montreal. Sidney Crosby is a passionate, brilliant hockey player who gives it his all every night. Because of that, he is constantly being targeted and on the receiving end of a lot of cheap shots, so he complains to the refs, big deal. The only time I recall him being teary-eyed was at the end of game six in last year's Cup final and who could blame him. He was devastated, so was Fleury after letting in the winning goal, I could feel their pain. There's nothing wrong with that, it means they care and winning is everything.
There was nothing wrong with Carey Price crying on television after a string of losses last season. It means he cares for the same reasons as Crosby does.
Who cried more than Wayne Gretzky when he was traded from Edmonton? Does that take away from him as a hockey player?
What about the Rocket during his standing ovation when the forum was closing in 1996. Is there anyone out there who would dare call the Rocket a wuss?
Am I making my point? Good.
I can't believe what a jerk Pierre Peladeau (Quebecor) is. What happens with the Habs or who is hired is none of his business. He was miffed that Bob Gainey didn't consult with him on hiring Jacques Martin. Could you imagine if he owned the team? The thought of that could make ME cry.
The Pens have tied it up 2-2. Game 5 will be huge for Detroit, if Datsyuk is back in the lineup there's a good chance that the Wings could win it. I still think the Penguins can win the Cup, there's no quit in them, a game 7 in overtime would be sublime.
So now I'll go completely off the hockey topic and share this little gem with you.
I am a cat person and I have three of them. If anyone has ever owned a cat you must know that they love routines, what time they eat, play and sleep is extremely important to them and has to be on schedule.
The other day I arrived home early in the afternoon. It was a nice sunny day so I decided to sit outside and do some reading. Around 5:00 P.M. I went inside and upstairs to change. The pride was glued to me like flies on poop expecting to get fed. I told them I was going out for half an hour and would feed them when I got back. I came home 45 minutes later, dished out the food and when I went to put it down in their usual spot there was a big steamy pile of poop waiting for me. It wasn't hard to figure out who the culprit was, he's a twenty three pound Siamese and believe me, these weren't mouse droppings, a small horse would have been proud of them. So I did what any mother would and told him to wait until his Dad got home. Dad arrives about two hours later (of course the "present" was long cleaned up by then) I tell him what happened and he thinks it's absolutely brilliant. As a matter of fact he starts commiserating with the cat. "Oh you poor boy, mom's been neglecting you eh?" Typical men, they all stick together and out of the corner of my eye I'm fairly certain I saw the "boy" giving Dad a paw pump.
I just hope Dad doesn't get any ideas when his dinner runs past 8:00 P.M.