RED WINGS

Hello all, David Vriesman here bursting on the scene like Tyson Gay at the Olympic Trials. Hopefully the end result isn't the same. . . .
I guess I didn't pick the best time of year to begin assaulting your senses with my ridiculous views on the world of sports considering the Red Wings are all drunk at home off of victory and whatever polish from the Cup slipped into their (obviously) Canadian beer, the Lions are at home peeing their Depends undergarments wondering how many more games they will lose before they are shipped off to the Northwest Territories, and the Joe D. is fielding more calls than a Saigon whore.
Nonetheless, I wanted to bask in the glow of the Red Wings for awhile, especially since as soon as the Cup is hoisted we immediately begin thinking of "next year" and our hopes of dominating the competition once again. The re-emergence of Chris Osgood, Dallas Drake's first Cup, a Swede as the first European captain to win it all, McCarty's amazing comeback, and Zetterberg's overall dominance of the sport make me as giddy as a male janitor working in an all girls Catholic school.
Nothing made me happier than Zetterberg raising the Conn Smythe trophy as Sidney Crosby, Don Cherry, and Barry Melrose had to look on in anguish as the actual savior of the NHL was coronated. Looks like those Europeans can play pretty well too AYE?