Monday, April 6, 2009


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.

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