You have to admire his passion. Taken Sept. 11th, 2006.
I love this city to death, and I hate to see it get jerked around.
Minutes ago, I checked out today's lead story in The Winnipeg Free Press', and it seems that one more hurdle may have been cleared in the fight to keep the Coyotes in Phoenix for one more season. Fine, I say. If the whole buyer thing works out, great. Bettman's hard-on of stubborness is intact. Good on ya, Gary.
I just hate hearing the press jump on every rumor regarding the possibility of our long-lost Winnipeg Jets returning like the Prodigal Son. Truthfully, I'm not sure if that simile is appropriate, but it sure does sound good. Anyway, I just feel bad for folks in this city that get worked up over faint hope. The whole situation is some sort of open wound that forces outside of this town love to thrust a few fingers in for kicks. They love it when we squirm in the form of grassroot movements to fetch our team back from the indifferent Sun Belt.
And what about the Moose? Yeah, you remember them, right? I feel for those motherfuckers. Be real, y'all: the Moose are totally the jilted second wife in this mess. She knew Winnipeg and the Jets were tight, but the breakup was bitter, and she'd do anything to make him forget. The thing is, ol' Winnipeg never got over The Franchise, even though she crossed the border, changed her name and hooked up with Phoenix. Winnipeg got drunk every few years and openly pined for The Franchise, sending ill-advised texts and nude photos, all the while assuring wife no. 2 that everything was on the up n' up.
It's 4:58, and I've clearly gone too far with this metaphor. This post was just an elaborate ruse to use that photo.