CANADIENS GO DOWN THE DRAIN

There was a time when people used to believe in stuff. Important stuff like beauty and magic and razzle-dazzle. But razzle-dazzle was seemingly putting a crimp in Bob Gainey's style. So he took action. Crazy, counter-productive action. A fitting conclusion to a crazy, counter-productive Centennial season.

At first, the free-agency market opened with the perfect traditional setting for the Montreal Canadiens. They were at centre stage of dire circumstances, already thought dead after a supposed disastrous trade with New York City that saw the talented but inconsistent (especially with open nets) scorer Chistopher Higgins, as well as the heavily-hyped wunderkind Ryan McDonagh, sent over for overpaid, underperforming centre Scott Gomez. The hounds were hounding, the fans were screaming but, bing, bam, zoom, Spacek, Cammalleri and Gionta came in to fill the void of Tanguay’s surprisingly unimpactful season despite relatively solid play, Komisarek’s lack of any ability whatsoever and, so we pondered, a player to be blamed later... Bob Gainey was a certified genius again.

For awhile, all was well; it seemed the Canadiens were merely pulling another one of their famous 3rd period comebacks, this time on the free-agent market, using Kovalev as the dramatic background motif. The grumblings after the McDonagh loss had quieted substantially. Calls to the asylum begging to come fetch the GM were stayed.

And then... Disaster. The Canadiens had been in dealings with star farward Alex Kovalev, true, but fearful they might be left with no dancing partner when the mercurial Russian could not decide quickly enough to sign, chose to scoop up Brian Gionta in his place! Kovalev and his fans were forced to realize that the Artiste’s tenure with the Canadiens had come to an abrupt and sickening end.

Now, the era of magic and razzle-dazzle and beauty is over the City that is Hockey. Journalistic integrity and objective disassociation forces me to conclude that with this single, solitary move after brilliant set pieces to acquire talent on the open market, Bob Gainey has chucked the Montreal Canadiens down the drain in spectacular fashion.

I took an oath as a reporter to report the facts. Here are the facts, undisputable, unassailable, and too often manifested to be considered anything less than mathematical certitudes.

Fact 1: Kovalev is the greatest guy in the world.
Fact 2: Kovalev is the greatest hockey player the universe ever spit out, even taking into account the existence of as-of-yet unexplored parallel universes.
Fact 3: Kovalev can score one-handed from anywhere within the blueline, yes, even from behind the net, smartypants, one-handed, eating popcorn.
Fact 4: Kovalev can deke out raindrops.
Fact 5: Kovalev can get a free car whenever he feels like it.
Fact 6: Kovalev once a-caught a burret wit his beh hans.
Fact 7: Kovalev will knock you right the hell out if you mess with him.
Fact 8: Kovalev’s Charisma is at Level 11, designation: Master Hypnotist. He needs not even speak for teammates to wither at his commanding Presence.

Now, those are the facts. Witnessed with our own eyes. Unimpeachable, unquestionable solid facts.

Any general manager interested in the concept of being the best of the best in the NHL, normally, you would think that the most skilled player to ever shake Mikael Gorbachev’s hand would be just the ticket in getting there, but apparently, the Montreal Canadiens were too skilled and not American enough for their liking. As it is their right to think so. And yet, some of us might be forgiven for thinking Bob Gainey a bit enigmatic in this approach. As always, none of your faithful reporter's tough questions could breach the general manager's demeanor, nor he could he cull any insight from his stoic gaze (pictured right).

And Ottawa must surely be commended for their marketing savvy in swooping in to collect the Russian Titan. Montreal is barely two hours away and they could sure use the attendance at the Corel Centre.

More updates as events warrant.

GAINEY MAKES FANS BELIEVE IN THE 'CH' AGAIN

MONTREAL - In the sixth - and likely final year - of his five-year plan, Bob Gainey has successfully pulled off what no other GM has been able to do for decades... He has made fans believe in the famous Montreal Canadiens crest.

This incredible task was achieved by what turned out to be the simplest of methods; get rid of every player on the roster that was every worth cheering for.

By removing the concept of individual greatness and character from the lineup, fans can no longer get behind any one man and chant his name. There is no one left to bitch and moan about on blogs and in the media. (Well, except for the Priceberg, but really, who watches hockey for the goaltending?)

Koivu, the ultimate champion at heart. He beat cancer. He beat the media. He beat my mother (and that's all I can say until after the hearing). His roots deep in the community. His heart on a pedestal. Gone...

Kovalev, the moody but extremely talented winger. Loved by fans whom he loved in return. A constant joy to watch. Gone...

Tangauy, Lang, Schnieder, Higgins. Gone, all.

So who's left? Markov? Have you ever heard him speak? Hamrlik? Please. Plekanec? He's only here because he has no choice. The Kostitsyn brothers? Well, if they're high they're okay. And rumour has it that's fairly often.

Latendress? Lapierre? Two years ago the only reason we cheered for them was because they were French and cracking the lineup. But they were second fiddle to the likes of Koivu and Kovelev.

Gomez? Gionta? The dude from Calgary who's name I'm still learning to spell? Spacec? Hill? Yeah... When I think Habs, I picture these guys.

So really, there's no one. We'll cling to someone by default, but in our hearts we'll know there is no one to cheer for. So all that is left is the logo. And that was likely Gainey's plan all along.

And then he'll leave.

Thanks Bob.

ROPE-A-DOPE

MONTREAL - As game 3 of the Eastern Conference Quarter-Finals looms upon us, the Montreal Canadiens' season appears to hang in the balance. Throngs of Habs supporters chew their nails - fingers and toes - as nervous butterflies make their presence felt. But fret not ye faithful...

We've got them where we want them...

Perhaps the season has looked like a massive poo-bomb to you? Perhaps the inconsistent play of Carey Price over the course of the entire regular-season had you worried? What of the fact that the Canadiens came into the playoffs with Saku "little shorty-pants" Koivu as their only legitimate offensive center?

Maybe you need reminding of just who the Kostitsyn brothers are? Let me help you... They are the brothers who got themselves into trouble for hanging around drug-dealers. You know the guys. They're the ones that got completely outplayed by Toronto's Mikhail Grabovski for just about the entire season.

Remember when Alex Kovalev was the one you wanted traded because he was bringing down the team? Oh! And what about that time when we all identified a defenseman as a pressing need so we went out and got some old geezer that will surely retire next season?

Of course you may be considering the fact that we fired the coach really late in the season and replaced him with the GM, a smart man to be sure, but one with a pretty terrible record. But what else are you gonna do when the team is up for sale? You can't just go out and hire better coaches.

Perhaps you recall the best game of the season? You know the one. Yeah, that game where Alex Kovalev got the first star and won himself a Honda? Those were good times. Didn't count though. But good times nonetheless.

You might even be asking yourself why the best line for much of the season was the 4th line. Fortunately, things have changed and they aren't our best line anymore... Phew... Now they are completely ineffective. Thank goodness...

Well all this stuff may look like a total mess, but trust me. That's been the plan all along. The Canadiens' brass has carefully laid plans for the last 5 years to get us to this moment. This whole season has been a rope-a-dope season. For the Boston Bruins believe that, up two games to none, they have the Canadiens by the proverbial balls. But that's just what we want them to think.

Game on, boys... Game on...

MISSION ACCOMPLISHED

Huzzah! The most storied franchise in the history of the world has found a chink in the armour of the NHL and has managed to squeeze its way through to the Holy Dance despite the best efforts of its archnemesis, the Beantown Bruins, who sent fire and hell after Komisarek only to find a poop-eating grin waiting for them. Armageddon and chaos united their abilities and sought to crush the Artiste’s spirit and got a blazing top-corner goal as a response.

Your cheap reporter (pictured left), unable to afford a loge at the Garden was forced to sit amongst the cattle. Happening to glance over, he noticed a man removing his black and gold attire and putting on the fabled red’white’n’blue. "Hadn’t done that in a year!" he exclaimed to the surprise of yours truly and to the detriment of the departing. "Who are you, sir?" asked your perspicacious reporter. "Mentum," said the stranger "first name, Moe." And once the CH was on his back, hot dog if he didn’t grow a foot!

The Dance awaits. And if the Bruins aren’t peeing in their pants right now? They dang well should be. Your reporter has it on divine sources (Moe again) that the most glorious team since the dawn of humanity has a wager going with the Beaners. Pollock SWORE Montreal would beat Boston 75% of the time in the playoffs. It is said that if the Habs serve the Beaners another desparing loss during these playoffs, the 75% is finally attained and GM Chiarelli must change the name of his team from the Boston Bruins to Montreal’s Woman.

Fearing the worst, Chiarelli already commissioned the creation of the new team logo. The design was to denote a strong inclination towards femininity as well as the fragile state of their collective psyches. The logo pictured left is the one they finally settled on, a delicate pink "B" inside a white egg resting on its side. Not bad! We can only hope to see this beautiful coat of arms prancing about the Bell Centre ice come next automn, a fitting demise to the brawn of Boston and the most ridiculous underachievers against whom we’ve had the pleasure of crossing swords. Perhaps one day, if the Beaners do their best to emulate the Habs to the point of obsession, they might attain half of their prestige.

More updates when Pittsburgh goes down.

KOVALEV: HOW DO YOU LIKE ME NOW?

MONTREAL - As if to give the media the finger and the fans a thumbs-up, Alex Kovalev has been on fire of late. No, let me rephrase that: he's been the God-damn man.

Kovalev is racking up points at a torrid pace having scored 7 points in two games. If he keeps this up, he'll be a point-a-game player (if the NHL suddenly decides to extend the season to 84 games). And that, my friends is a big "F-U" to all those that were down on him.

Your humble reporter, however, never gave up hope and never stopped believing. I was there through thick and thin. When times were bad, I let Alex cry on my shoulder and patted him gently until he finally went to sleep. When times were good, I quietly disposed of the dead hookers. Because that's what a good friend does.

Saturday night against the Leafs, Kovalev showed you all what he was made of: gold. Pure, unadulterated, Honda-driving, gold. Gold with hands of diamonds. Gold with a sexy beard. Gold with a shot so precise, Jesus himself allowed a single tear of joy to stream down his cheek at the site of its beauty. Gold so brilliant, Mr. T should be wearing Kovalev around his neck.

The game against the Leafs was men against babies. And Kovalev did what any real man would do to a baby. He beat it down until it was bruised and bloodied with spirit broken. Take that, you damn dirty baby!

L'Artiste is back, and the show is just beginning.

KOSTITSYN BROTHERS BACK IN ACTION

MONTREAL - With Sergei Kostitsyn being recalled from Hamilton, the Montreal Canadiens once again have the talented siblings playing together. In honor of this, we'll try to prove that no other siblings in any other sport are better than these two.

You may have heard recently that the Busch brothers won back-to-back NASCAR races. Wow, that's amazing... It must be pretty hard is it to drive a car in a circle... How would the radio chatter sound? "Oh God! Another left turn! What do I do?!?" ***CRASH*** Pfft! Given that the Kostitsyn brothers can turn both right AND left solidifies the fact that they are better than any stupid NASCAR drivers.

In major league baseball, the Boones (Bret and Aaron) were the first set of brothers to get their tips frosted at the same time. But Andrei and Sergei were the first to rock the bald and mullet look (respectively). And only real men can pull that off.

The NBA had (of course) the Grants. Horace was pretty good, but Harvey not so much. (And this despite wearing goggles!) But both Kostityns are good, so the Grants are left in the wind.

The NFL had the Gramaticas; place kickers for their respective teams. Ha... HA! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!! 'Nuff said.

The NFL also had the Johnsons (Randy and Larry). But since everyone mostly wished they would just shut up, I think we can be safe that the quiet, reserved Kostitsyn brothers are just plain awesomer.

And who can forget tennis' Williams sisters (Serena and Venus)? Well, I'll tell you who: Me. Those thighs haunt my nightmares. Not to say that the Kostitsyn thighs are better to look at (since they're dudes), just that I'm not forced to stare at them.

Honorable mention goes to Ralf and Michael Schumacher. Honorable only because Michael may be the best F1 racing driver the world has ever seen and Ralf one of the worst.

So looking back at this list, I think we can all conclude that the Kostitsyn brothers are the best sibling tandem in the entire world. I can't argue it, and now neither can you.

HAIL TO BOB

MONTREAL - As posted here and, indeed all over the Sacred Internet over the past few days, it was Bob Our Savior who has single handedly changed the climate of the entire hockey world. But it was not without sacrifice.

Your humble reporter was not in a position to report on the proceedings at the time that they occurred, but I could not let it pass without at least providing some form of literary response...

It was with a last ditch effort to salvage a sinking ship that Bob The Builder invoked the ultimate resolution in his formal attache of plenipotentiary clauses, motioning for bilateral demilitarization and cessation of hostilities for the mutual advancement and prolonged commitment to the furtherance of harmonious relations among sovereign parties.

In other words: peace be with you, Carbo...

As we all know, the majesty of Bob's personal charm spreads throughout the cosmos. Legend already speaks of this great champion of pulchritude. Scribes (not only in Montreal) scrawl His praises. Bards wail His glories. Poets bleed their inkwells dry and weep them full again.

Men of sorted character silently breathe Bob's story as their passion; as warriors blow white conch on jagged rock; as paramours put flushed lip to their lovers' mouths. Men of spirit aflame, open of shirt and snug of pantaloon; rose-breasted men with swiveling hips, nimble legs and restless hearts; men whose vehemence of temperament fill their throats with melody and their footwork with rhythm. The fiery cluck of learned, genteel men as these will pique the ear with tales of this Champion... Of Bob.

Legend will forever speak of this humble man, who by mettle of His glowing personal charm alone, saved the Montreal Canadiens and indeed, the entire universe.

No pressure though, Bob... No pressure...