BOB GAINEY ORDERS MOJO TO GO

Victory in Toronto came at a terrible price as superstar defenseman Andrei Markov was slashed by the Terrible Price in the ubilinian pedaphalangial quintacep tendon, an injury that would necessitate a 4-month healing period. This left your Montreal Canadiens up poop creek without a power play specialist, a zone-exitor extraordinaire, an overall nice guy, or a paddle for the next 81 games of the season and 23 in the playoffs.

The venerable general manager of the team Mr. Bob Gainey was suddenly served his first Crisis entrée like a knock out punch to the chops and he hadn’t even ordered an aperitif yet. Since your trustworthy reporter was cleaning the table, I had the chance to ask him what his next move would be. He remarked “We have young players ready to step up and play a larger role. Ryan O’Byrne comes to mind.”

When Mr. Bob Gainey came in last night, I asked him what his plans were now. He said “Bring me an aperitif and I’ll tell you.”
In all my years as beat reporter for the Beautiful Team, it was always Mr. Bob Gainey who showed the most candour when he showed anything at all. We have heard many colleagues complain that Mr. Bob Gainey never says anything when in fact, he just avoids us any extra work. Our colleagues want to work the same old clichés into their shtick every day, that’s their business. But as you well know, at Habsbros, we don’t work clichés. We get the straight dope.

So when Mr. Bob Gainey had swallowed half his mint julep and ordered Mojo to go, I was naturally taken aback.
“Mojo?”
“To go.”
“What kinda mojo you want?”
“OT-winner mojo.”
And that was it. He paid with a Sergei Kostitsyn, shook the chef’s hand, called a taxi, and headed off to the airport.
More updates as events warrant.

KOMISAREK EXPOSED AS AN ASSHOLE

TORONTO - New Maple Leafs defenceman, Micheal Komisarek, formerly a highly regarded rearguard in Montreal, was exposed on Thursday night when he triumphantly admitted to being an asshole.

"Look, I know you all know I'm an asshole," Komisarek, 27, told a roomful of reporters last night. "Well, that may be true, but I play for Toronto now. News flash: Torontonianites are assholes."

"So I'm an asshole," Komisarek added. "Deal with it."

Some pundits say Komisarek has a long history of being an asshole. In six seasons with Montreal, he had alienated virtually all of his teammates by blaming others for his failures and lying about injuries so as not to fight Milan Lucic and try his hand at coaching instead.

For Montreal fans however, Komisarek's exposure and recent admission that he's an asshole takes him to a whole new level of assholitude.

One reporter was heard saying later that evening, "[Komisarek] acted like outing his own assholiness somehow made it our problem, not his. What a dick."

"On his first day, when Michael made an elaborate show of learning my name, I could tell he was an asshole. But in a couple weeks, he changed from being an asshole who's proud of himself for knowing my name to the category of El Assholio Supremo del Mundo," Toronto goalie Vesa Toskala said (pictured right). "He really outdid himself."

The worry for most NHL players now is that, having declared himself a supreme unrepentant asshole, Komisarek can now gleefully explore the freedoms of his newfound role.


"The more of an asshole Michael is, the more air-time we get with Don Cherry, and the more games we get on CBC and TSN," said General Manager Brian Burke (pictured right with all his friends). "In Michael, you see a classic example of the cycle of escalating assholedom. Instead of hiding his assholishness and putting on a good show, he brags about it in the locker room as if it's a virtue, because he thinks it will benefit his career. But I don't believe for a minute that he's only an asshole for career advancement. For Micahel, being an asshole is its own reward."

When your humble reporter asked for comments on allegations that he was an asshole, Komisarek did not disagree.

"Hey, you're doing a story on me?" he asked. "Make sure you put it in huge letters on the front page: 'Kosisarek exposed as an asshole and he doesn't give a fuck whether you like it or not.' That'd be hilarious."

Wish granted, sir.

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.