By Rich Lindbloom
Before you make a terrible decision and decide to read the following series of unfortunate events, I must warn you. The review I’m about to record is not for the feint of heart. If you’re looking for a feel good, pick-me-upper, I urge you to turn to the blender, the one with booze in it. If you are easily depressed, inclined to think the glass is half-empty or prone to wallow in crushing pessimism, please turn to another page in this program. Perhaps there is a “Talking to the Ice Crew” segment, maybe a top ten reasons Pavel Kubina should be beheaded feature or a comic page with Toews making funny faces.
If you must continue reading, and again I urge you not to, you will read about considerable worry, hopelessness and even death over the result of a pork chop. This is a review of a good hockey team gone bad. Tales of injuries, halfhearted efforts, neutral zone breakdown, party animals and unfortuitous bounces. All of these maladies are woven together with a tenuous string of hope that we’ve all clung to during this ill-fated season. I write about these things, because that is what I do. You the reader do have a choice; for the last time I urge you – pick something more uplifting out.