BOSTON MA – For those of you unfortunate enough to not know who I am, I was at one point a regular contributor to this fine establishment. To the rest of you… Cheesy Bruin – much respect. MTM Management – you should have shut down my login years ago. Angry Ward – May your sense of purpose (obligation) forever fuel you. Big Ben Whitney – your pragmatic approach energizes me even if it is from a place that made Ryan O’Reilly (Conn Smoked Boston’s arse) contemplate quitting hockey. Buddy Diaz – a curve ball ain’t a straight ball… Sit back. The Knicks fans of the world will never know what I feel right now but I still love you.
The ingredients required to reach the apex of sport are routinely regurgitated. Cliches are quoted. Sentiments are noted. Columns are bloated. You must “play to win the game.” “Keep your eye on the ball.” “Don’t pull any punches.” And of course, “remember to thank The Man upstairs.” All in all, the script is written for the masses, drowned by the asses (like my current self), and abhorred by the lasses (like my wife to be), that begrudgingly endure such meaningless fodder, for nothing more than a pride that cannot be explained.
That being said…
Rarely, upon the aforementioned apex sits, an uncomely small market team, with more fingers than teeth. Even more rarely, upon the apex sits a team that was league worst midway of the season. Even more rarely, do rookies and interim coaches two-step their way to the apex of sport together in harmony.
There have been terrible towels. There have been rally towels. There have been Matt’s bowels and Mets scowls. Rally Squirrels and dancing girls (the Devil’s dancers make me wish I still knew how to use a condom). There has even been One Fish, Two Fish, a Red Fish, and a Blues fish. But until this season there were no playoff energizers like Laila and Charles. If you didn’t tune in and listen to Charles sing please click on the non-existent link that is these words, as the MTM Edit Staff has no idea I am writing this, so they won’t edit it and there won’t be a link. If you didn’t tune in and hear Laila interview Steener, then please click the link that I am sure doesn’t exist because the MTM Staff has no idea this article exists. Or do they?
Laila carried the team on her back in a way no child could. Her grace was more innocent and enduring than anything remotely akin to hockey and it was in a way more personal and genuine than some people will ever feel in their personal lives. Charles Glenn carried the city on his back in a way that could only be done through singing our National Anthem for nineteen years. I remember the early days when he would start in the cheap seats and sing throughout a walk all the way down to the ice. Charles I am sure always knew that hockey was the reason people bought their tickets, but game in and game out for nineteen seasons he reminded that crowd that there was something larger than blues hockey.
Between her undying voice and his unending voice, this Cup was a witnessed destiny for a city that is currently under water. Today as my fellow Missourians bag sand, contemplate mother nature’s perils, and forge through a life of uncertainty, one thing is for certain:
The St. Louis Blues are the Champions of the National Hockey League for the first time in franchise history. The only things greater than the feel good story that came to culmination this past evening are the personal cup stories to come this summer.
$100 bucks Robert Thomas gets suspended for his day with the cup.
Cam James
