I think every season needs to end - and even begin - with 15 games in a single day. I'd even schedule 15 games for the day before and the day after the All-Star break, as well as the day before Christmas Eve and 15 more on Boxing Day.
That's right. Fuck you, Kazakhstan-Canada and your inferior ratings.
Follow me over the jump to .... wait, wassat? .... there's no need for every single FanPost to contain this phrase, especially since it can only be interpreted as a cheap ploy to be front-paged, what with FanPosts actually containing no such jump?
Fine. Fuck you too, then.
Sat 7 Apr
1300 hours: Chicago's 82nd Armored Brigade is expected to rendezvous at the Joe Louis Arena, where a regulation win would propel them into a 1st round battle versus Nashville. Does the outdated Vietnam-era Redwing model have enough in the tank to lose in 60, or will the more versatile Blackhawk go down with a 60-minute tie game? Prediction: I will wake, then bake, then watch two great teams drive their respective fanbases crazy by trying to win a game that ensures the tougher first-round opponent.
1500 hours: Paul MacLean and his Royal Ottawa Regiment have decided to remove their frontal armour (Chris Neil) before crossing the Delaware, en route to Newark (don't ask me, I'm not their travel agent .... yet). If they don't drown, they will probably fuck things up by winning the game. The Devils, meanwhile, have nothing left to tank for. Prediction: I will be drunk by mid-afternoon, whether we're headed for a 4-game loss to the Bruins, or a 6-game loss to the Rangers.
1600 hours (eastern front): The Sabre-1970 (pronounced: sah-BRAY), known for its larger-than-usual cost overruns during the manufacturing phase, enters its Mexican standoff with Colorado, Calgary and Dallas as the prohibitive favourite to win the coveted 11th-overall pick. Prediction: Buffalo will beat the Bruins and draft 14th-overall.
1600 hours (western front): The Flamethrower-89 is perfectly equipped for this terrain and will surely out-maneuver the heavier Boudreau model. On the other hand, they'll probably set themselves and Toronto on fire by beating the Ducks by 7 or more goals, forcing Shanahan to quickly assemble a fifth tiebreaking procedure. Prediction: Ducks get to draft ahead of the Leafs by virtue of a pimply-faced Kessel having lost the first home game, when a balding teenaged Getzlaf made out with Suzie Johnston at Phil's 12th birthday party.
1830 hours: Hey Capitals, you lose to the Rangers today and it'll probably mean five losses to the Rangers this week. Since you already have the Bruins' number, and since Tim Thomas refuses to show up in DC, why not do us both a favour and take the 7th seed. Also. Hey NBC, why you heff schedule games at 6:30 this year? Prediction: a dip in the ratings this Spring, compared to Versus at the same time, last year.
1900 hours (southeastern theatre): What will win out in this modern-day Battle of Atlanta? Will Guy Boucher employ the same tactic he used versus the Flyers, and avoid challenging the Jets for the puck, or will Claude Noel employ the same tactic he used versus the Flyers, and allow 8 or 9 goals? Prediction: Kent Brockman will become bored doing the play-by-play, while in the next booth, Rick Jeanneret's Argentinian cousin is unable to contain his excitement over the same game.
1900 hours (main theatre): Okay, this is the big one. The Battle of Kursk here, people. If there's one thing this Sens fan finds odd, it's the bizarro dick-waving contest this year between Leafs' and Habs' fans. Who has what it takes to be Canada's Worst Tank Drivers: Edmonton-free Edition? Do the Leafs draft 3rd-overall or 8th-overall? Probably somewhere in between. Prediction: Randy Cunneyworth picks up enough french to know that char is slang for car, which unfortunately leads to being out-tanked by the Leafs when he rides into battle with the rusted out 1999 Honda Civic he bought from Pat Hickey.
1900 hours (basement porn theatre): You'd think that a game between the Islanders and Columbus would be the actual #greatesttankbattle. Alas, nothing compares to a Leafs / Habs game. Still, the Isles can leapfrog Toronto, Anaheim and Minnesota, unless they want to draft 4th-overall. Prediction: New York brings their Av-game and their unparallelled tanking experience, with their own Thirst Line seeing more ice than Moulson / Tavares.
1930 hours: As a condition of their surrender in 1865, the armies of the Carolinas were granted one eponymous tank built by William Tecumseh Sherman. I suggest deploying it today versus Florida. Prediction: The Panthers revert to old habits and do their best to miss the playoffs, finishing in 8th place.
2000 hours: Do people really say twenty-hundred hours? Apparently they do in Minnesota and Dallas, where they are hoping that home ice, plus their respective opponents' drives for their respective commemorative banners is enough to help their respective tanks stay on their respective tracks. Prediction: I will get chastised for having an East Coast bias every time I say I don't care about either of these games, but the truth is that I actually do care to see Phoenix lose and set up my late night viewing of The Battle for the Pacific. And besides, I gave you people all due respect and then some, so I'm allowed to say whatever I want after that.
2100 hours: Nashville will need a win in Denver if Detroit ended up winning their early game, which would be just fine for Avs fans, who will ban anyone from their site if they dare doubt the superior tank ability of their four 4th lines. Prediction: Carrie Underwood, Taylor Swift and that girl who is banging Tootoo will get into a pillow fight in the press box until I am awakened from my drunken slumber by the sound of the goal horn that signals the end of Colorado's top-12 draft position.
2200 hours: Vancouver will do their best to avoid the curse of the Presidents' Trophy, but get stymied by the superior tank abilities of the Oilers. Prediction: Riots in the street.
2230 hours: Both San Jose and Los Angeles will surprisingly try tanking to avoid winning the division and facing the Blackhawks. Prediction: My own Ted Mosbyesque vomitless streak comes to an end, but not due to the 14 beers I consumed - my seventh blunt of the day will have me coughing so hard that a little throwup rises into my mouth, forcing me to debate the merits of such a streak versus the prospect of swallowing.