So Marian Hossa lost control of the puck in Game 3 of the best-of-seven series, the Chicago Blackhawks vs. the Phoenix Coyotes, Western Conference quarterfinals, and winger Raffi Torres comes flying over and delivers a charming shoulder-to-head shot. Torres hit Hossa with such force that Torres himself left the ice. Of course Marian Hossa was taken out on a stretcher and went straight to the hospital but no foul was called on Raffi Torres. Of course Marian Hossa can't play because he has a big fat concussion. Yes, we are talking about assault and we are talking about nobody doing a thing about it when it happened.
Okay, okay, so not assault because this was a game of professional ice hockey but this was not a regular play. This is just the sort of thing the NHL is trying to stop. They so want it to stop that they delivered their own justice yesterday. Raffi Torres is out for 25 games. If he doesn't have 25 games in the post-season -- and I sincerely want him to get nowhere near the Stanley Cup -- then the punishment goes into next season. There are 82 games in a season and if it goes into next season, for which I am totally crossing my fingers, he will lose $21,000 per game. No pay is lost for missing post-season games, alas.
The Blackhawks were down in the series, 3-1. The Coyotes and their coach (who didn't seem to think the Torres hit was that big a deal) and their fans were licking their lips thinking the were going to eliminate the Hawks. To the fans, to suspended Torres and the other Coyotes and their coach, I say, "Suck it, bitches." The Hawks won in overtime. Now it's 3-2, hope in Chicago stays alive, and it gets a smidge closer to Mr. Torres doing his suspension next season, getting zero pre-season play, and losing $21,000 per game in the 2012-2013 season. A girl can dream, can't she?
If you can't appeal to their good sense, to their intellectual sides, then accost them in their bank accounts where their families get the shaft and give them some sad looks and projected bad thoughts about which they can think long and hard in the comfort of their own living rooms.
Oh, yeah, I hate all kinds of thugs, Raffi Torres, and this week, you most of all.
I love Philip Humber, pitcher for the Chicago White Sox. A perfect game! Coincidentally, this was the first game in his major-league career that he ever finished and then twirled into the record books.
This makes me wonder: how did the Cubs capture everyone's imagination? The White Sox might break you heart -- any sports team will break your heart -- but they won't break it into a thousand pieces, stomp the pieces, then grind said pieces into dust.