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“It Doesn’t Matter Until the Playoffs.”
After every victory, I will say, “It Doesn’t Matter Until the Playoffs.”
If the Sabres score five goals a game, I will say, “It Doesn’t Matter Until the Playoffs.”
If the Sabres win 15 games in a row, I will say, “It Doesn’t Matter Until the Playoffs.”
If the Sabres clinch the top seed, I will say, “It Doesn’t Matter Until the Playoffs.”
Last year the Sabres had the most goals and most wins in the NHL, and it meant absolutely nothing. So much so that I refuse to believe it ever happened. It did not happen. Those numbers do not exist. They are dead to me.
Darcy Regier and Larry Quinn are spineless, incompetent, bumbling twits and will remain so until the Sabres make the Stanley Cup finals. Until the final horn sounds on the clinching victory in the Eastern Conference finals, they remain in the doghouse, and not one minute beforehand.
Until then, I will take no encouragement or excitement from this team. Sure, they’ll be fun to watch, but even as I cheer goals and victories, this thought will be in the back of my mind: “They did that last year too.”
I will get excited for the first time this season when whoever the captain is skates up to the Prince of Wales Trophy. (And if he’s a real captain, he won’t accept it.)
Not. One. Minute. Beforehand.
It Doesn’t Matter Until the Playoffs.
After every victory, I will say, “It Doesn’t Matter Until the Playoffs.”
If the Sabres score five goals a game, I will say, “It Doesn’t Matter Until the Playoffs.”
If the Sabres win 15 games in a row, I will say, “It Doesn’t Matter Until the Playoffs.”
If the Sabres clinch the top seed, I will say, “It Doesn’t Matter Until the Playoffs.”
Last year the Sabres had the most goals and most wins in the NHL, and it meant absolutely nothing. So much so that I refuse to believe it ever happened. It did not happen. Those numbers do not exist. They are dead to me.
Darcy Regier and Larry Quinn are spineless, incompetent, bumbling twits and will remain so until the Sabres make the Stanley Cup finals. Until the final horn sounds on the clinching victory in the Eastern Conference finals, they remain in the doghouse, and not one minute beforehand.
Until then, I will take no encouragement or excitement from this team. Sure, they’ll be fun to watch, but even as I cheer goals and victories, this thought will be in the back of my mind: “They did that last year too.”
I will get excited for the first time this season when whoever the captain is skates up to the Prince of Wales Trophy. (And if he’s a real captain, he won’t accept it.)
Not. One. Minute. Beforehand.
It Doesn’t Matter Until the Playoffs.
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