Hey, Retard

by

Thank you, Scott Walker.

The following gutless, cheap shot sucker punch to gloves-on non fighter Aaron Ward, which may very well have broken an orbital bone in his face, may be exactly the motivation the Boston Bruins need going into Game 6 on Tuesday in Raleigh, hoping to extend this series to seven games.

Of course, it doesn’t hurt that the team came out and finally, after a miserable trio of games leading up to this point, and played the kind of game Bruins fans have been dreaming about. Physically dominating, offensively confident and strong on the puck in every corner of the rink, they showed the kind of game folks were hoping they still had in them, the kind of game that led them to the top berth in the Eastern Conference. Where it had been hiding, no one really knows, but it was exhilerating to see that it wasn’t completely lost after all.

So, yeah, you were at the receiving end of a pretty one-sided affair, there, Scott and it probably didn’t feel good getting slammed all over the rink and beaten like dogs, I’m sure. But did you really have to take it out on a guy like Aaron Ward? Someone everyone in the entire league knows is a non-fighter. A guy no one in the league would ever expect to drop the gloves. A guy who didn’t drop the gloves.

Thankfully, Ward was on his feet to see you skate off with your 17 minutes of penalties, barely escaping the wrath of Milan Lucic who, if the linesmen hadn’t protected you, would have pummelled you into a mass of red jelly on the Garden ice for such a punk-ass move, such an obvious infraction of the Code. The ambient mics caught Ward’s intitial words to you as were escorted away.

“Hey, retard…” The rest was garbled but I’d like to think it was something to the effect of “Enjoy your seat in the press box for Game 6. Smark fuckin’ move.”

It really was that dumb, Scott, me little simpleton. Ever heard that saying about letting sleeping dogs lie? Well, it applies to bears, too. When a team needs something, some emotional boost, to draw out of themselves all the fire and rage that will make them play at their utter best, something to ignite the sort of snarling hatred that had them tearing though the Montreal Canadiens like Wolverine through a bunch of ninjas? It’s not a good idea to be the mouth breathing fuckhead who gave it to them.

That’s what’s likely to happen in Game 6 now, you brainless dink. Now they’ve got the anger, now they’ve got a reason, now the beast has awakened and will be coming at you claws bared, frothing at the mouth and hungry for the kill. With red uniforms turning their vision crimson with bloodlust. That’s what’s coming at you on Tuesday, Scott Walker, Carolina Retard.

Don’t worry, though.

You won’t be there on the ice to see it.

But, hey. Retard.

Thanks.

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