The First Day Of Spring

Next month it's my birthday. And it's really getting to the point where I really don't feel like celebrating the extra tally. Like I mean really don't. Inevitably, the body doesn't respond like it used to and thus, over the years, adjustments have had to be made.

Some activities been abandoned completely (skating, karate), while other have increased in frequency (yoga. yup.) in order to allow others (snowboarding) to continue and progress . Over the last year, I've taken up mountain biking to give me my street session fix.

While my previous North Shore misadventures have resulted in a lot of crashing, carrying my bike, and cussing down the trails, my riding has pretty much been limited to bmx style street riding. It'll never replace the feeling of pulling a long 5-0 grind or landing a kick flip, but it's proved to be a suitable replacement thus far.

Case in point tonight. Dusted off the bike, and hit the city, remembering the first spring skate sessions of days long gone. And happened to find an abandoned lot, complete with a paved hip that I proceeded to launch off over and over again. A complete blast.

I tell you, "that age" or not, there's still nothing better than finding some spot stashed away from the rest of the city, and owning it for at least a brief period of time.

Triple Double

Gotta hand it to that Nash character. Having another stellar season after being left out in the desert by the pundititions in the preseason. Tonight he poured it on in the fourth against Chicago to beat the Bulls 111-105. And in doing so;

1. The Suns clinched a playoff spot.

2. The Bulls gained no ground on the Raptors.

3. Nash undoubtedly pissed off the President.

I don't know what was worse for diplomatic relations with the Yanks today. Harper telling Clinton that we're out of Afghanistan next year or a Canuck sticking it to the Bulls.

The Clincher Ticker

....Caught this game at the shack tonight, and I don't know what I enjoyed more. Bosh and co finally coming back in the fourth and squeezing out a tight win. Or Bobcats sole owner, MJ, squirming in his seat noticeably aging by the second. At this pace he'll look like Jeff Van Gundy by next season....

....GSP unimpressed with performance despite win over Nottingham soccer hooligan and dole monger, Dan Hardy....While a W by unanimous decision is better than a split, and light years better than a KO, I too would've really liked to see the yob tap...what are his arms made of? Flubber....?

...No Fun City returns... insurance issues being cited for UFC 115 getting the hook here in Van...hey I hear you...the spectacle of two guys squaring off and brawling in the centre of GM Place is savage, barbaric, and just plain ghastly...

...What's this???? The news dropping on the night Teemu gets a pre-game to do at the Honda Center to celebrate his 600th goal? With plenty of footage from his early days as a Jet? And even Jari Kurri in attendance wearing the original Disney era Mighty Ducks sweater...? What next? Mike V lacing up and dropping the mits with Krys Barch?....

....and what's this??? 100 points, a clinched playoff spot and a chance to beat San Jose for the div title? I don't want to look too far ahead but could we actually get some redemption for the Colorado Cup fiasco of '96...?

DETROIT TIGERS

A huge holler to the Tigers in their decisive 6-2 win last night. Which booked their trip to the Frozen Four at Ford Field in few weeks.

An extra shout from Mount Maniwaki to the NCAA Dangler not only on his goal, but on being named one of the tourney's best players. Alongside four of his teammates.

Best cue up some Eminem on the iPod...

Now they should probably move the Frozen Four to Tiger Stadium.

The Maniwaki Locker Room

So we sit in the locker room, taping our sticks and our hands for a couple of epic events scheduled tonight. Let's blast some metal and get all riled up for the showdowns. The first is pretty;

Big. UFC 111 has got GSP fighting to defend his title against foul mouthed yob, Dan Hardy. While GSP has admitted he's concerned about Hardy's pure punching power and overall capability, Hardy has been all mouth and trousers. All bloody week.

Needless to say if this Final Fight reject does manage to luck out and somehow beat St. Pierre, it'll be almost as tough a loss for Canadians as say if Bob didn't stop that shot in OT in that hockey tourney a few weeks back.

So let's go GSP!!! I want to see a knock out via spinning backfist in the first round. That would be huge. Yet our next tilt is even;

Bigger. RIT vs New Hampshire in the NCAA East Regional Finals. Like GSP, the Tigers are also on a monster winning streak. Also like GSP they are not taking their latest opponents lightly. I'm hoping for a 7-2 Tiger blowout as I might need dialysis after yesterday's incredibly tense third.

GO RIT!!! TAKE IT TO'EM!!!

"Upset" In Albany

Whilst the nation was most certainly shocked with the RIT upset of Denver in the first round of the NCAA hockey tournament, the Maniwaki Nation was most certainly not. Why?

Because this is a hot team, with a hot goalie (Jared DeMichiel turning away a mind numbing 37 saves at last count, we'll see what the official tally reads when it's up) who contained the number one seeded Pioneers with a roaring aggressiveness. I finally found a feed for the game (thanks to WITR radio) and listened as the Tigers contained the Pioneers while constantly pressing.

Coach Wayne Wilson in the pre game presser spoke of looking no farther than the next opponent. Which of course is obligatory in any interview, especially in single elimination, but the Tigers' prep paid off as they managed to score early, add to their tally, and most importantly, respond after a late and potential momentum shifting goal in the third. Wilson had more than just words for the college media. He had a solid game plan for his squad.

Which had me pacing up and down the floors of HQ like a fiend during the final frame, all the while keeping in contact with the Skip (who had his entire office tuned in and on the edge of their desks as well).

Good show. We now await the winner of New Hampshire/Cornell who go tonight...

Until tomorrow... we all best be prepared.

Find Me A Feed!!!

And fast!!! We live in a world of a billion channels. Music and movies at the click of of laptop, or remote, video game system or phone. Interconnectivity between nations, communities and regular folks at an all time high. If I wanted I could get real time surf conditions in Bali if I wanted.

Yet I can't find a single source for the big RIT/Denver tilt tomorrow in the Big Tourney!! N'ary a feed to be found on line or via local cable or satellite. ESPNU has got the bill, but to find a provider? As futile as the Leafs making the playoffs. Or signing a quality draft pick...

Maybe Burke should send scouts down to Albany to scout some of the Tigers (who have flown in under the radar, despite earning their spot decisively and boasting the longest current winning streak in the nation.) Apparently if your school's squad isn't based in Michigan or Massachusetts you get seeded last in your div, behind teams that had to bid in.

Now I'm starting to understand why all these college hoops fans get so up in arms all the time.

No matter. Good luck tomorrow lads. May you shock the nation.

UFC 111 - The Maniwaki Odds

So there's this sharp tongued, red mohawked bloke strutting around the octagon talking a lot of rubbish about how he's going to beat GSP, and claim the welterweight belt.

This coming from a guy who has won a grand total of four fights in the UFC and who's sole game plan is to catch St. Pierre with a lucky shot and hopefully flatten him.

Really? Wow. What a strategy.

GSP is both a master of striking and submissions. He trains like he's possessed by a wendigo. And he's just added 10 pounds of muscle from Olympic power lifting. Why? To become more explosive off the mat. Uh oh.

If you are a betting man, by all means bet the house, the yard, the car and any horses you have on GSP on Saturday. Even if Hardy does land his "lucky shot" GSP will most likely have let him, just to discredit such an inane plan. Which will be followed by GSP wrapping himself around Hardy like a boa constrictor and squeezing the living beejeezus out of him to retain the belt.

The Cruelty Of The Fantasy Gods

So although I was anticipating a massive Maniwaki Fantasy backfire yesterday, I had no idea as to how utterly sadistic and malicious the Hockey Gods from on high can be.

Why? I sat at the shack last night watching the Sens highlights. The camera flashed from end to end. I watched in shut out anticipation when it hit the Sens end. And became increasingly more ancy as the footy kept rolling. A goal scored on the Canadiens. A save by the Sens. Another goal scored on Les Habitants. Another Senators save. And another. And another.

Could I have actually have been right to bench Bob and throw in Leclaire? Looked like it as the final flashed across the screen: Senators: 2 Canadiens: 0.

I was happy for about .98 of a second until I read the byline. "Shutout for Elliot."

Backup! BAH!

Then. About an hour ago. Sitting on in some Canadian cop station on some Canadian cop show. A detective piped up.

"Oilers 2. Canucks nothing!!"

Typical. Went home.

Fired up the feeds.

"Sens: 2 Philly: 0"

Holy fuck!! Some redemption!!! It escaped me last night but tonight I got'er!!! At least one blank is better than none!!!! In theory.

Now. The third is about to start. Oil: 3. Canucks:2. Is it too much to ask for a win against at least one lower bracket team? How about a win against the lowest of the lower tier teams in the league? Probably...

Final prediciton?

Oil: 4. Canucks: 3. Zack Stortini scoring the shoot out winner in the 11th round.


***ADDENDUM***

Typical.

Fantasy Fuck Ups

Ok, so I'm 110 points back in my pool, and n'ary a hope in finishing in the top 5. The top 10 is going to be a stretch at this point. To put it like this, a girl who wasn't even at the draft, who picked via auto selection, and who didn't utilize one trade or waiver pick up all season (and probably never even checked her damn roster once) sit many, many slots ahead of Team Maniwaki.

Nay-us. Goose-us.

After the latest Tavares fiasco, I am contemplating two things.

1. I have decided to bench Bob this week, as my backups have more scheduled starts this week and well....his recent play has just been plain smelly. Now. Will he get three shutouts in a row this week? Probably.

2. Fantasy baseball starts soon. Dice is already out. I, like both him and Alex Anthopoulos, am pondering an off year. And especially since I don't care about Strasburg, as no member from that team will ever play on mine.

UPSETS END. BIG NEWS OUT OF THE EAST.

Well I guess the hockey gods gave us three days of woeful hockey stories, in order to set us up for the big news originating out east and broadcasting all the way out to Maniwaki Country. Namely:

THE RIT TIGERS CLINCHED THE ATLANTIC DIV LAST NIGHT AND ARE GOING TO THE NCAA NATIONAL TOURNEY!!!

Way to go lads!! Two decisive wins over the weekend (over Canisius in the semis and Sacred Heart in the finals) to win the Div.

I tell you the Dangler's already impressive resume is starting to look legendary with this berth.

How surreal was it for me this morning to punch up the ESPN site, only to see the DIV 1 hockey bracket on the top headlines? Then read the piece breaking down the tourney bracket, RIT earning their spot and not having to rely on seeding or some shady ranking system.

And who cares about that hoops tourney?

Tell you what I'll be doing for next Friday. Calling my local cable provider and getting that ESPN U channel.

To the squad: Good luck next week in the East Regional showdown against Denver.

I will definitely be tuning in for that one.

Upset At Thunderbird Pt 3 - GM Disgrace

Well at least the sledge hockey guys can take a little comfort in the fact that there's a team that can take complete and utter collapse to a whole different realm. What the fuck happened here?

Fuck, I don't know where to begin. I really don't. I've run the entire spectrum of emotions after this loss. It started with the obligatory disgust after Detroit scored two goals in two seconds to tie the game. Then proliferated when the Wings took a 3-2 lead.

The peak of elation occurred when Dan caught the hail mary pass and scored to tie it at 3. Maybe he should start in net next game.

And then went to utter maniacal laughter when Zetterberg snapped in the winner past Captain Hook. With .02 seconds left. I was laughing because I called it a second before it happened.

We had the full squad at the shack tonight. I'm convinced that if we would've walked out the doors and started shooting pucks at the Garage we could've scored on Luongo tonight. How does one go from riding the wave of the biggest game in Canadian hockey history, to getting pulled every second game afterwards?

It's not like we've never been here before. In fact, this took all the Canucks collapses in history to new territory. All I could do after the Captain was sprawled out in the crease after the OT winner was keep repeating this mantra.

"I can't believe it. But yet I can".

Upset At Thunderbird Part 2

3.6 seconds left in regulation to lose the bronze and any medal in sledge hockey. I know yesterday was tough, but that one's got some serious sting.

Downsides? The obvious. I can only imagine how bad the squad feels about not winning a medal on home ice.

Upsides? At least this sport is competitive. Not to mention incredibly exciting. Requiring extreme skill and true hockey grit. The Paralympic tourney has totally got me on board with sledge. Which is way more than I can say for any Oly women's bracket.

Seems like great hockey squads have to lose a few continental sized heart breakers en route to greatness. The World Cup in '96. Nagano in '98. I'm sure when the Canuck sledge blades hit the ice in Sochi, they'll be incredibly sharpened.

Upset At Thunderbird

Looks like Canada won't get the triple golden crown at the Olympics and Paralympics as the sledge hockey team got upset in the semis by....Japan????!!!!

Wow. Now that's some tough nori indeed. Doubly so as it would've been nice if the Canadian Women's team would've suffered such an unexpected defeat instead.

I took in a few of the sledge hockey matches on TV and must say that I was completely engaged. Especially the Canada/Sweden tilt in the prelims. Great passing, hard shots from the point, stunning saves and unreal breakaways.

A tough loss sure, but no matter though men. There's still bronze to be played for on home ice, so get geared up to go get'er.

Captain Hooked

Really? I thought we were over this. I don't know what's worse. The fact that we squandered yet another one against a bottom feeding team, resulting in another hook for the captain. Or the fact that Tavares got 5 points and is sitting on the Maniwaki Fantasy Team bench this week.

I haven't seen this many hooks resulting in absolute bloody carnage since "I Know What You Did Last Summer..."

¡Viva la Revolución Béisbol!

And Viva Cuba!!! Some notes re: béisbol from our favourite communist island.

The Spouse sent me this bit on some locals going down to Cuban to pay homage to national baseball legend, Martin Dihigo, Sr. Makes you think how different the record books would look if baseball hadn't taken a damn near century to let everyone play together.

And with the Cuban contingent in mind, looks like we shelled out some big bucks for this guy.

Good for baseball.

Even better for baseball is the fact that we stuck it to the Yanks with this signing, as this cat chose us over playing in pinstripes. Apparently he figures Jeter's going to play until he's 57 and thinks he'll make the Bigs faster with our squad.

Now. I miss Roy. I sure do. Watching him pitch in spring for the Phils is just wrong. But if these young guns pan out, we could see a Tampa inspired run before we know it.

Alexander The Suspended

Look Alex, we think you're great. We love what you bring to the rink. Skill, speed, and spectacle. Night in night out, when highlight time comes around on the telly, you keep us on the edge of our couches. It's damn great to see a guy with some actual personality sound off in the post game interview. An actual character stand out from the rest of the utterly drab responses and cliches. And crunching Jagr on Olympic open ice was just great for hockey. We all love it.

But this hit from behind stuff on Campbell ain't good for anyone. We know you play the game hard, and we all definitely appreciate a guy that skates with his heart on his sweater, but any more of these questionable crash and burns isn't doing anyone any good. People are starting to say you're a dirty player.

Look, I know you're not, but you're putting me in a real jam here because I actually have to hold my nose and side with Gary on this one. The two game holiday is a fair suspension, especially since it's your second of the season. And I also have to agree with Campbell as he does bring up a very good point:

"We come off the Olympics which was so great for hockey and then in two weeks you have the hit on Savard and now this. What parent in the States watching is going to want to put their kid in hockey? We have to do something to stop this."

Well no kidding, because at the rate these cats are dropping who's going to be left to play in the playoffs? Chris Chelios?

Saturday Night's Alright For Dangling...

I'll say. Where to begin?

1. The East. How about with RIT's decisive win last night over UConn to take the second straight in the Atlantic quarters? Now marching boldly to Blue Cross arena next week for the semis. Looks like that RIT D is making life tough for all div rivals. Good luck next week lads.


2. The West. Then we've got the Canucks. Was at the shack last night watching the game. Talking playoffs with my compadre Justin, where I asserted, "If you have a playoff pool, the guy you take first over all is Alex Burrows. That guy was genetically engineered for the playoffs."

Only to have him streak across the screen short handed to pants Pascal Leclaire.

Good stuff.

Then what happens?

Mikael Samuelsson practically recreates the same goal, only going wider while fighting off a defenceman. For his second of the night. Tell me Mats Näslund isn't sitting in Stockholm, kicking himself.

And oh yeah, for good measure Captain Bob and all the other medalists who played last night get their own Oly pre-game to-do.

As Justin stated in third period, "I wish. I was at. This game."

No kidding. Roll please:

Never Mind Sid...

....here's the Dangler. With all of this Olympicking going on, we haven't weighed in on the RIT Tigers and their more than compelling march to the playoffs. In regular season play, the Dangler scored the game and division winning goal against Airforce to clinch the Atlantic's best regular season record.

Not being content with that he slapped one in in OT against UConn last night to win game one of the three game Quarters.

Good show! Now that's some real March madness.

Let's Light'r Up Again

Another roster expansion as Dice and his wife, Narn, are off to the Dot and we've taken their l'il bundle of pure puppy power, Boomer, into HQ. The morning patrol around the perimeter resulted in a first hand viewing of a Sea King helicopter hovering incredibly low over Burrard Inlet, as well as a Navy vessel floating in the waters.

Apparently the helicopter air had the Paralympic flame and lowered it onto the Navy patroller. Then the frigate took it through the channel with the Sea King flying up ahead. About five or six crewman, dressed in full regalia stood guard of the flame as it fired from a cauldron secured on the bow.

High time I got an iPhone or other smart device already, as the shots below are alas, not mine, and pilfered from the Sun and this blog. Hoping some vid appears soon on the official site as well, as it really was a sight to see.

Back To Reality

Ok, so the Olympics are over, and I realize it's taken me a while to send them off where they will reside for eternity in the CBC digital archives, shelved next to footy of Mayor Jean Drapeau boasts of an auto-financed Games and Elizabeth Manley's jaunty two step.

Nope, can't say I'm happy to see'em go, as it really was one of the most incredible rides ever that the province has ever seen. Even topping any interior powder heli-ski drop.

It's like every day of the Games was like said back country run. And like any seasoned riders, we started off a little shaky, but once we found our legs it was nothing but sharp carves through powder fields and nailed 360's off natural booters.

But enough lamenting. Time to return to reality and see what's what. Looks like a few "B's":

1. Baseball. What? Really? We're already a few weeks into spring training? When did that happen? Should I care that Rickey Romero looks solid, Kyle Drabek pitched some scoreless innings, and Jose freakin' Bautista is bombing through the spring sortie? And that's just our lads. I'm not ready for all of this yet. Let me ease into it.

2. Basketball. Bosh and the boys have lost three in a row but still hang onto 6th in the conference. This is good. Also Bosh hasn't been traded. Also good.

And what's this? MJ's going to be sole owner of the Bobcats? Say what you want about his Wizardly comeback and "gracious" retirement speech. Putting one of the greatest competitors ever at the helm of a franchise he considers hometown, has the makings to be one of the greatest small town stories of Americana seen in hoops since Hoosiers. Steve Nash, I hope you're taking notes...

3. Bob. Yeah, that gold medal was nice and all, but it's good to get back to seeing the Luongo we love to tear our hair out over. Welcome back Bob.

Olympic Addendum Pt 4 - Top Of The World Ma!

[The following is a Maniwaki account of Olympic events from Feb 28, 2010. Gold Medal Sunday.]

There's a Canada flag slowly fluttering on my balcony right now from the Olympic winds that still circulate through the city. Propping up random flags on random balconies for those that still revelling in the remnants of golden light set off from the Aurora Borelis bomb detonated last Sunday. The following is a tale from within the blast radius, near the epicenter.

So it was Sunday. And one of the biggest games in Canadian hockey history was to be played in my backyard. Somehow over the course of the Olympics, Team Canada had managed to face their fears, find their form, and frighten the shit out of us. Here we all were at finale of the tourney with the only acceptable ending still a possibility.

Although the chances were slim, I absolutely owed it to myself to make an attempt to infiltrate the Olympic Rink. Prices were beyond outrageous to get through the doors ($3000 a pop for lower bowls) but I figured that perhaps the luck of laps of GM Place past might follow me.

Any good battle plan requires an allotment of acceptable losses. I was prepared to forego the first period. I was prepared to spend everything the bank machine would spit at me. It was time to circle around the grounds. I headed to the stadium that soon would see its last match of the 2010 Olympic tourney.

How much was I prepared to spend to get through the doors? Let's just say enough to feel it. I remembered the stories from my compadre Gary, who dropped a ton back in '93 to get to Game 6 of the World Series, who saw the Carter blast first hand.

"Once in a lifetime. Best money I ever spent," he said over one of our many Jays conversations from years ago.

Once in a lifetime indeed. The mood during the two week span had ranged the spectrum of somber, subdued, elated and for the most part, absolutely electric. On this day though, the city's charge had exceeded far beyond capacity. If someone lit up a cigarette, the whole place might have gone up. Puck drop was in an hour.

As expected, scalpers were few and far between, re-sale outlets were asking ridiculous amounts and many random stragglers had the same idea I did and were on the hunt. It appeared that there was a scalping section near the entrance to Stadium Station. It was here I tested the market. Only to be presented a very sobering reality. $1400 to start.

"Meeting in the middle," was not going to be an option.

Meeting old friends, however, was. As the aforementioned Gary was in fact in the scalping scrum, attempting to negotiate a fair rate for him and his companion. We had a good laugh, and I told him that his Skydome successes helped fuel my mission. We weighed in on The Games and The Game, and then I continued on in search of my deal for gold.

Which appeared to be non existent as there were very few sellers to be found. It didn't matter, because I was content to do a lap of the rink this day. I hustled passed Ontario House and Hockey House where mass congregations of people were gathering. I walked along the Science World Seawall upstream against rapids of red that were churning and swelling towards the stadium.

Upon my second approach to scalper's row, the puck had already dropped and I hoped prices would follow suit. Not much though. Nowhere even remotely close to the zone. And warnings were floating around about alleged counterfeit stubs flying around. Another concern.

I reentered the floor of the market. Gary was still on the scene, remaining resolute. A first period write off was more than acceptable in these circumstances. We allied ourselves, but could not crack these vendors. Some of these guys definitely weren't from around here, looking more like they could've been cast alongside Vigo in "Eastern Promises." They weren't budging.

Then the goal siren sounded, and cheers reverberated through through the entire city. Over the Beatty St Drill Hall and off the Wall Centre. The Woodwards "W" spun around few times faster. Looks like we had scored. And I was starting to get antsy. The first period was already over half done. We were on the board. I decided to cut my near losses. I wished my compadre good luck and ventured back downtown. Past the massive Canada House roof screen that showed that Toews had tallied, and a few blocks over to the destination that I always knew I would end up at.

The city's upper deck.

*****

I walked through the doors of my buddy Jordan's pad. At the corner of Cambie and Robson, this place sits stacked 17 floors up facing Robson. BC Place is only a few blocks away and can be seen from the balcony. Jordan, as well as some of the lads from the hockey pools were strewn about on the couches, looking tense. We all came quickly to life, as the lads filled me in on the first, I regaled the story of my failed mission. This was the squad to watch a big game with.

It was the intermission and more beer would be imperative to get through the next few periods. I exited hastily and emerged back on street level. Tall condos and apartment buildings surrounded me as I hiked up to the bar on the corner. Canadian flags were hanging at every storey, from many balconies. Pockets of people, all wearing red jerseys, could be seen in different units. Had Google Maps taken a satellite shot today, it would most certainly appear that Robson/Cambie grid was some sort of neo Canadian Colleseum. The whole city had literally transformed into a massive stadium.

Testing this assessment out and en route to the beer dispensary, I attempted to lead the various sections in cheer.

"Lets Go Canada! clap-clap-clap-clap-clap I bellowed out. (yup. I was that guy.) Which came back at me 100 fold from the upper decks. This was getting beyond surreal.

Got my six, and headed back. Draped from one of the condo balconies was the opposing flag. The residents of this US luxury box were all decked out in Polo blue jerseys. They were blasting Hendrix's Star Spangled Banner. It was so good for hockey. I had to hand it to them.

Got back to the pad. The second was starting. We were losing it. It was tense. We were playing our game, but it did appear that there was elements of fancy sneaking it, as we all screamed at the tv at times for excessive cycling. Look, these young gun Yanks were hard to contain, plain and simple.

Perrey finally poked through to make it 2-0 and we as well as the rest city leapt out of our seats screaming. Dare to dream? Not yet. We weren't even at the halfway point of the match. And this US squad definitely wasn't going anywhere. Brian Burke really should be commended for icing this team.

The second ended without incident. We were walking the razor's edge above Robson. Around our elevated section, flags were flying, beers were flowing. And much pacing. Each unit showed a flurry of nervous activity. Ours was definitely not exempt. Random jerseys would duck in and out of balconies. The same jerseys would strafe from kitchens, across living rooms, ending up on a couch. But only for a few minutes, then back up again. There was a lot of smoking happening as well.

The third started. Then you know what happened. Kesler fired one in early. Apparently all the pacing and smoking was justified. While this was a Team Canada squad playing, an Olympic game in Canada, there was still one fact that could not be over looked.

We were still in Vancouver, the game was still at GM Place, and Bob was still between the pipes.

As Canucks fans we didn't want to say it, and didn't. But tucked away in the darkest, ugliest recesses of our collective lower mainland sports psyche, we all knew. And quietly prepared ourselves.

Actually it was kind of fitting that it was Kesler who got the goal. And to be fair, although it was a bit of a softy, Bob was playing well and had gotten us to this point. Playing at home for the Gold. I tried my damndest to banish all unfavourable yet very possible outcomes from my mind.

Which became exceedingly difficult to do as the US kept pressing in the final minutes. I was climbing up the back of the chair with my feet. An uncontainable reaction that only emerges during truly monumental matches.

Sid somehow got that breakaway which looked like it could put it away. Not to be. This must've been another huge spark for the US bench, as that last minute of the third was undoubtedly the most excruciating, gut twisting, kidney squeezing minute of hockey I (and I'll go out on a limb and say you too) have ever watched.

Miller on the bench. The extra attacker. Gold within our grasp. Desperately playing on our heels.

And then Parise.

How did you feel when that one went in? If it was particularly dramatic and excruciating please feel free to share it, and send it to me. I'd love to know.

In our unti, six guys all keeled over, some practically puking, screaming and wailing like they'd just been severely wounded on the Braveheart battlefield. Or it was like we all just drank a pint of the Jonestown Kool aid. That goal was sheer poison.

Then the intermission came. Then the pacing began. Out to our balcony. Others on their respective balconies joined. Much pacing. So hauntingly quiet outside you could hear the birds chirping in Stanley Park.

I figured there was two ways in which this could go. One of two ways which I could face this. Already the moans were understandably growing from our camp. I allowed myself a split second glimpse into viewing the possibility of a national tragedy. But only briefly, when Parise scored. And then no more.

I would refuse to budge for OT. We were still in The Game, this was still Team Canada, we were still in our back yard. And there was still only One. Acceptable. Outcome.

Remembering the Slovakian scare, I remained resolute. I would not waver. I grabbed the Maniwaki Mobile device and sent an urgent coast to coast message. To family, friends, to random people in my address book that I haven't spoken to in months.

"Remember what The Great One said."

And turned boldly and confidently to OT.

What an absolute treat of the game of hockey. We came out harder than we did in the first period against the Russians. Wave after wave. A West Coast pummeling so great it dwarfed any Tofino storm, as well as the Stanley Park windstorm. Shot after shot on the Miller and US net. There would be no denying us.

Yet, the the Yanks got their chances. And Bob held the line. Making four saves in the extra frame, one point blank that could have put it, and all of us, away.

Then before you knew it we were back in the US zone pressing, then light went on, the crowd roared and jumped to its feet and before anyone knew what was what...

WE SCORED!!!!!!

And we all jumped up and screamed like Canuck maniacs. We ran around, bouncing off the walls. We high fived. We screamed in each others faces. We went out to the balcony and screamed over the streets at everyone who was screaming back at us. The upper deck stands of the city stadium were erupting. Flags waved. People hollered. I screamed so hard that I hit a pitch so high, I'm sure I'll never hit it again.

"WE WON!!! WE WON THE GAME!!! WE WON GOLD!!! WE WON!!!"

I faced upwards and howelled to the heavens:

"TOP OF THE WORLD MA!!!!!!!!"

It felt like I was screaming with the whole city, the whole nation, every hockey fan, every Olympian, everyone who had taken part in The Games with me. Everyone who couldn't.

Everyone.

****

We were shock. We turned back to the TV. Who had done the deed?

Sid.

Of course.

From Iggy. Of course.

We stood and watched as the lads accepted their medals. We cheered for the team with extra emphasis for Bob and Sid. We sang Oh Canada at the top of our lungs when the flag was raised. And cheered some more when Crosby got to take his victory lap, waving the flag. Unreal. Just unreal.

Back to the balcony we retreated to smoke and reflect. Looking down from our vantage point on this west coast Canyon Of Heroes, we waited for the streets to fill and the ensuing Great Canadian Street Party to kick off.

Geoff, a big burly guy in Team Canada jersey, weighed in;

"I feel like we just won the Olympics."

Holy smokes had we ever.

******

We watched and waited. The streets were filling. We hurled streamers. We watched all of it. It was amazing. It was beyond euphoric. It truly was the top of the world.

Our celebratory squad got larger. We exited the apartment and joined the fray. Then it got insanely larger. What felt like the entire population of Canada all took to the streets. We went Robson St and headed for the Square. It was insane. Burrard Bridge apparently had shut down and there was a mass exodus of people flooding into downtown.

The downtown swell was the biggest and most boisterous sea of red seen during the entire Games. We wavered and wandered through it, savouring every step. Gold. At home.

******

ADDENDUM TO THE ADDENDUM.

If ever there was a day to drink in Canada, this surely was it. Our group dissipated and ventured off in the different directions the city pulled them in. A few of us were headed down Granville to find a bar to hole up in for the rest of the night.

For those of you who read these e-pages regularly, you know that the cast of characters that help create the tales in said e-pages is quite extensive. And as I mentioned during the beginning of the Olympics, expect most of our roster to make an appearance.

However there has been one guy that we haven't heard from yet. A big contributer to the Maniwaki Mauler cause in ways more than just writing, and guy that has an uncanny knack to show up at just the right place at just the right time, and saying the right thing. One Simone Gagne.

So of course, it was more than fitting that out of a crowd of a billion he spotted me marching past the Roxy, and flagged me down. What you think he'd disappear in the Big Game? We had an impromptu post-game, weighing in on the magnitude of the day and also of the previous two weeks. I said he should join our posse to hit the bar, but he said he was just doing a quick loop of the streets before catching a charter back to the 'Loops.

We assessed the defensive pairing of Niedermayer and Doughty.

And both agreed that it worked out pretty good.

****

Olympic Addendum Pt 3 - The Big Mountain Experience. Tales And Trials Of.

[The following is a Maniwaki account of Olympic events from Feb 26, 2010.]

We were all running on fumes. We had done so much. Yet there was still much to do. So we did the only thing we could. Packed up the car and got out of town. North along the 99 Sea To Sky Highway.

Destination? The Resort.

Yup, nothing like taking the whole family to scenic and serene Duck Mountain Provincial Park in beautiful British Columbia.

Ok, not quite. Sure maybe Whistler/Blackcomb does have just a few more runs and an a couple extra meters of vertical than our favourite familial destination. But really, it doesn't boast that much more.

The Maniwaki Olympic roster was expanded to its max this day, as two squads requiring two vehicles, were on the line up card. Two alpine missions were to be executed:

1. The Alpine. The Skip, Mate, Muskoka and myself geared up with boards and skis to comb the Whistler/Blackcomp uppers.

2. The Sub-alpine/Mid-mountain. Spouse, Brother Carn, and campadre Lou strapped on snowshoes to patrol the Whistler woods.

****

Recon and Report.

As the Olympics were still in full swing, lift traffic on the slopes was light. Heavy cloud cover sprawled over both mountains, which provided fresh snow (huzzzah!) but reduced visibility (hah-zut!) The full vista from the village was totally blanketed. Still though, no complaints. A good day for mountaineering.

The alpine squad hit the gondola and began the epic ascent. Even when the weather isn't clear, you can't help but get amped for day on the hill. We finally emerged at the Roundhouse station and geared up. At this altitude the snow was fine, so we zipped down plenty of runs. The Skip and Mate got their legs back, as this was only their second run of the year. I remained cautious. Still nursing a tweaked ankle back, and posting a riding count of less than 10 on the season, I elected to traverse conservatively. Muskoka, being a local at this point left us all in the dust. I'm sure she was spinning three's and riding switch as she blazed down the hill.

With each run, we all got better, and eventually it was time for the obligatory Whistler chili in bread bowl. The US/Finland game was on with the US laying a big mountain smack down on the Fins. 6-1 in the second with the Fins getting fiesty. Looked like Jokinen was looking to lay out Kane. It was the closest I've seen to a line brawl in the Olympics.

So should we beat the Slovaks later on, it looked like we'd be facing the Yanks in the final. But at the time, that match might well have been 12 parsecs away. I strolled passed a gift shop in the Roundhouse station. Stuffed mascots were on display. Quatchi, Sumi, Miga.

Muk-Muk.

I slapped down my Edge card and liberated that l'il guy from his alpine abode.

For Luk-Luk.

As we would surely need his help later against the Slovaks.

The crew hit the slopes again. A sign at one of the lifts reported that we could view the Women's Slalom from the bottom of Ptarmigan run. We elected to check it out. We descended in formation, hoping to catch a glimpse. The VANOC mountain patrol however, was guarding the gates and directed us onward. A spirited inquiry resulting in a thwarting of our plans. A classic dis-information ploy. Bastards! We were left to carry on with no sightings of Lindsay Vonn.

Score: VANOC 1. Team Maniwak 0. They won that round.

Deciding that we were out manned on Whistler by VANOC snow troopers, we decided take the Peak2Peak over to Blackcomb to regroup. The view was really limited, so we weren't able to get the full panoramic picture. However a glance down into the gulley, revealed that we were indeed suspended quite high over Fitzsimmons Creek. Gondola conversation also confirmed this as some of our fellow riders spoke of Whistler paratroopers base jumping from these very pods.

*****

Meanwhile Team Maniwaki Sub Alpine was still holding a position on Whistler Mountain. The trio trudged through trails of powder from their mid mountain drop point. Upon trekking east, they happened on the perfect vantage point. A view of the Whistler Sliding centre where the four man bobsled was taking place.

Without the use of field binoculars or infra red they were able to observe many Olympics sleds rocket down the course, including the Canadian bronze medal shuttle. The scene was hot as they could also hear intermittent crashes coming from the course.

This was a gold mine of intel and the squad, happy with their haul, scampered down the mountain. Navigating passes and sliding down short steeps they eventually made their way to the slushier lower levels. Then eventually back to the village to secure our next position.

Score: VANOC 1 TEAM MANIWAKI 1.

******

We descended down Blackcomb with our progress being hampered the closer we got to the base as slush became more and more evident. At Base 2, we had to navigate through the international cow bell crowd as they took over the run down to the village. These migrating women's slalom fans acted as gates themselves as we jetted around them.

The crowd got thick. The Skip had enough and lit up a smoke. I de-boarded as well and joined him. We hiked until we were clear of the crowd, geared back up for the final descent and shot straight for the village. Muskoka, the Mate crossed the finish line first into the village square, where a huge screen was broadcasting the day's Olympic events. The Skip and I cruised in next. Cowbells clanged for us all. We all turned back to the screen to check our times. Not bad considering the conditions on the lower slopes.

Score: VANOC 1 TEAM MANIWAKI 2.

Another good day.

*****

We all took refuge at a local pub. Our group of seven commandeered a booth, ordered pitchers and hunkered down to watch two extremely important events:

1. Cheryl's Gold Medal Match. (to be expanded upon at a later date.)

2. Canada/Slovakia Semi Final.

Admittedly we weren't as tense as the Russia game. Yet very, very wary of the Slovaks. Look,if you've been reading these e-pages for a few weeks or a few months, you know what the assessment of Team Slovakia is. Under no circumstances are these cats to be taken lightly. They mean business.

I wish I could copy paste those last two sentences and send them back through time to myself. Talk about a major "yikes."

We watched intently as the lads came out with a commanding performance, out shooting the Slovaks in the first and taking a 2-0 lead into the intermission. And admittedly as the convoy of pitchers, plates of wings, and burgers arrived at our table, our 60 minute sense of urgency we shared against the Russians evaporated.

By the end of the second, we were tired yet contented from a the day's mountaineering. As well as full from the ensuing Olympic apres. The Mate suggested we watch the third from the Village Square.

"A perfect idea!" I concurred. 3-0 Canada was the score.

And so. Like fattened lambs the Slovaks led us to the Village square. To the near slaughter.

Some people get superstitious when watching big games. They wear a certain pair of socks. They sit in a certain position on a favourite couch. I'm sure you have your own rituals.

Over the years, the Skip, I and our squad have succumbed to superstition as well. Inexplicably, in many, many big game scenarios, victory is and has been determined by not only our being present in viewing the game, and not merely by being emotionally invested not only in the outcome. But by fully immersing ourselves in the process play by play. As if we really were bench bosses for the particular contest.

We planted our selves by the ski racks and watched (waited) for the end.

The Mate: Are you still scared of Slovakia?

Me: No.

Lubomir Visnovsky. Scores!!!!!

This exchange occurred in an eery succession as Slovakia was on the board. There was half a period to go. I suddenly felt the chicken wings churn.

The crowd at the square got larger. And more agitated as the Slovaks came to life for the last few minutes of the game. Wave after wave. Shot after shot. Gaborik and company had lulled us into a false sense of security. Stupid! How could I have fallen asleep at my post? How could we all?

Then with under five minutes left, Handzus put one past Bob. Of course. Dear god. This had the makings of a complete upset. We twisted and writhed in the village square as the Slovaks kept pressing. And pressing. And fucking pressing.

It was painful. It was excruciating. It was a wake up call.

Then in the final minute, with Halak on the bench, Demitra snapped one at the net that somehow Bob got a piece of and batted away. Hundreds of people let out a huge sigh of relief as it the puck rebounded into the corner only to be cleared. The clock wound down. We won.

Barely.

3-2 Canada. We would face the Yanks in the final. We gathered ourselves, addressed our lackadaisical play and headed over to The Rings for a team photo.

We had covered much mountainous terrain. We had dodged a Bratislavian bullet. We dragged our tired carcasses back to the car and headed back down the 99. And prepared for the Yanks.

The Olympic Addendum Pt 2 - What About Bob?

Times at HQ were tense.

It was us vs the Russians, in a loser go/stay home Olympic fight card. It appeared as if our team of destiny might reach its very shortened and painful destiny that night, the night of the quarter final. Sure the Canadians had had an extra game to fine tune things. (A very decisive "W" garnered at the expense of the Germans.) But here was the end boss of end bosses showing up a few levels early. Would Team Canada have enough power ups in its reserves? And enough to survive the ensuing rounds?

The Skip, the Mate, and walked down to a neighbourhood lounge, formerly known as the Jupiter. Row seating, consisting of couches and lounge chairs in front of a massive projection screen, had been arrange. This joint is not usually a sports bar, reminiscent of another haunt that has been home to many of our shenanigans.

Shades of Le Pistol. The thought added a very slight but welcome relief to the sheer epic enormity of what we were about to witness. Canada/Russia in Olympic elimination. Awesome. And as it should be.

The puck dropped. The place lit up. And we perched on the sharpened skate blade for what seemed like an eternity. At only 2:21 in, Getzlaf put one in and the former Jupiter erupted as if it were caught in the centre of the celestial eye itself. So far so good. But no room to relax, not for a second.

Then Boyle got one.

Then Nash.

3 nil, half way though the first and the lounge, as well as the rest of the lower mainland and nation I'm sure, were all stunned. Ovechkin? Nowhere to be found. Malkin? Out partying with Muk Muk. The Canadians had done the unthinkable and were systematically dismantling the Russians.

How? To play platitudes, we were playing "our game." Driving to the net. Shooting. Leaving the fancy pants and excessive cycling gear in the dressing room. It was great.

However, we couldn't get ahead of ourselves. Dmitri Kalinin netted one to make it 3-1. Having watched far too many Canucks games over the years I knew that there was still no escape from the mists of complacency that routinely swirl around GM Place, often managing to seep in. Especially with Bob between the pipes.

I did the obligatory mental flash forward to a CBC scenario in which Luongo, head down, voice low, eyes glazed, tries to muster up an explanation for how we let a 3-0 lead evaporate, and why we were done in the QF's again. I braced for its bitter, bitter potential.

But then Morrow scored with less than two minutes to go in the first, and that thought was immediately disintegrated amongst the cheers of the rowdy, boisterous J-patrons.

We were joined by the Skip's compadre, James. And for the rest of the match, we all maintained. The goals, as well as the pitchers kept coming. Although more than pleased with the flurry of goals, we remained resolute. The Russians managed to muster up a couple more. Each time they did it felt like the starting point of the "collapsing Bob" scenario described above.

The Skip: I don't like this.

Me: You're not going to beat the Russians without bleeding.

Whilst the score was now 7-3 in the third and the place was starting to anticipate the semis, we remained on guard for thee. Up until the final minute of the game, the Skip held the fort, refusing to become swept up in any preemptive partying. Which proved to be a wise game plan as we would soon learn.

When 00:59 finally hit, it was show time at the J-corral. Everyone was standing. Everyone was cheering. When the clock finally ran out, everyone had in orbit. We had done it. We had survived, vanquishing the mighty Russians. It felt like we had joined those that watched the '72 Series and '87 Canada Cup in a latest chapter great Canadian hockey history book.

To make things even better, the cameras immediately went to Whistler where our two gal bobsled team, Kaillie Humphries and Heather Moyse, were en route to picking up our latest gold. Our squad finished our pitchers and prepared to hit the streets. Thus, sign making was the only logical next course of action.

We had two placards. The Mate's sang the praises of the Canadian Women's gold. Mine was a double entendre, "What about Bob?" as I was still in shock, not only be the decisive win, but by Luongo's stellar performance in an elimination game. He had just climbed out of the Maniwaki bad books with authority.

We darted down Davie St. (which was surprisingly subdued) and hit Granville. With signs hoisted high, the Skip, Mate and I marched down Granville St. dead centre, hooting, hollering and high fiving everyone we passed. Random pockets of red clad hockey fans stormed down the streets and celebrated. Everyone was so buzzed. Although it was only the quarters, it felt like we all just won gold. I allowed myself a brief look forward to a possibility that scenario. And was nearly blinded by the sheer impact of such a notion.

The lull at the centre of the Games, created by the US loss, and a string of Canadian near misses had dissipated. Although Team Canada handily beat the Germans the day before, this victory announced that Canada was back and wasn't going to go quietly. It was the TSN turning point of The Games. The hockey team, the athletes, the fans...we were all back on board. Ack, I don't want to say it, so I won't, so let's just say we were all singing that damn song.

We wound down our celebratory lap with another pitcher at a local saloon. Our roster was expanded. We all weighed in on the match while keeping an eye on the Slovaks and Swedes to see who we'd face in the next bracket...

The Olympic Addendum - Pt 1 - Oooompah!

Miss the Olympics already? Pining away in your pad for the parties on Granville St and the mass congregations at Robson Square? While Sunday's perfect fin was only a mere 48 hours ago, it seems that many of us (myself included) are not ready to take the lower mainland lampshade off quite yet.

Hoots and hollers of "Go Canada!" could be still heard last night on Burrard, as the Spouse regaled to me this morning. I heard nothing, and was as KO'd as if I was on the receiving end of a Brock Lesnar uppercut. It has been quite the eventful few weeks for sure.

So. As promised, I will fill in the blanks of what I skipped out on during the furious pace of the 2010 Games. This way we can all pretend the party is still going on down the street.

In this opener of the Olympic Addendum, I will recant the epic events of the 18th of Feb, 2010. In which Pajikistan and I made our down to Science World too check out the live taping of:

Steven Colbert. From the SkyTrain to Main St Station we could see the crowd converging on the grass by Science World/Sochi House. This was Day 2 of the two day taping so we figured things would get packed.

We scampered out of the station and took our spots in front of the grassy knoll. On the stage sat skis, hockey equipment and stuffed moose. So far? The right call. The stage manager eventually came out and everyone got amped up. He introduced a Dutch Oompah Band which played covers for the crowd. For a full 40 minute set. This Colbert character apparently doesn't skimp on the opening acts.

They tooted and tweeted their way through the likes of "Sweet Carloine" and others until it was time for Great Pundition From South Of The Border to take the stage. And wow. What a show. Having worked for a few years in the local film/tv biz as a glorified pedestrian, yet never having attended a live talk show taping before, I expected that we'd be subjected to take after take of the same gag. Which would be funny say the first to third time, but drudging, bordering on unbearable by the tenth.

Not so.

Colbert had everyone in stitches for a solid hour, with very, very few re-takes. One of which was his best bit of the day, when he had to record an intro of Michael Bublé, (who wasn't there that day) and screwed up, thus having to repeat it. Deeming it the "Dublé Bublé." Olympic comic genius.

Pajikstan and I and the entire crowd laughed like fiends through the show from his opening monologue to his interview with the Roy Stalin-ishSeth Westcott, to the end where he saddled up triumphantly the stuffed moose. Damn near delirious.

After Colbert said his good byes and exited the stage, and since we had all been deemed "Saskatche-winners", Pajikstan and I headed up the stroll and over to massive beer garden tent that served as;

Saskatchewan House. This was hockey re-con for the future as we knew we'd have to take in at least one game here. Got a plate of perogies and sussed out the sitch.

Two massive screens? Perfect. PIL on tap? Great. The plate of perogies? ....let's just say that they were on par with the rest of the Oly menu...As our objective was accomplished we hit up the massive white cube next door which served as;

Quebec House. Basically an open air cube, with a huge stage, few small hd screens and ten dollar beers. Zut. Headed home and then I jetted to the Mais to work watch;

Canada/Switzerland What happened here? The Swiss just about dispatched us in the prelims for the second straight tourney? Who didn't feel legitimately worried for our lads during this game? I did. And also dreading the upcoming US match, I'd be lying if I said that I could see making the semis as our ceiling for the 2010 Games.

The Swiss were not only giving us a game, but giving us a goddam Olympic size ulcer as well. A crowd trickled up to the bar as the shoot out started. I took orders. A lad named Jake piped up and said he wanted a Canada shootout victory. I punched it into the computer.

We all sat in Stanley Park and across the nation as every shooter got stoned. This was only the round robin. How could this be happening? Eventually, thanks to Oly shootout rules, Sid got to skate again. And the look in his eye the second time round, you knew he was going to finish this thing off.

After he snapped one past Hiller, and Jake's order was completed, I poured him a victory pint on the house. Welcome to Maniwaki Country, sir.

We caught our collective breaths, rode out the remaining hours, and decided that the only thing to do was to keep going. My compadre, Mike, (the Realator henceforth) had a hankering to oompah it up at;

German House. Located right beside Waterfront Station, the huge tent was practically shaking as we approached. And a very short line to boot. Success. What we were soon to learn however was that the security/entry process was very true to its Deutche billing.

Very terse security officers filed us in and issued us our "admittance" tickets. Apparently we weren't to enter the big tent yet, but rather chill outside in the makeshift Water St. foyer. These cats ran a very ordered program and when our ticket number was called out then, we could hit the big show. For the meantime we bought pints, laughed at the drunk Canadians that got denied by uber security, and watched;

The Slovak/Russia Tilt. Our admittance number was no where close to being up, and that didn't matter. Here was one of the best games of the opening rounds on the outdoor screens. Here were the Russians barely hanging on in the third by a single Morozov goal while the Slovaks pressed.

Feeling vindicated, as I'd been singing the praises of the Slovaks for months, I immediately jumped on board the Bratislava Bandwagon. And wouldn't you know it, Hossa of all guys, tied it up in the third. Game on. It went to the shoot out. Our rowdy squad attracted more rowdies. Stumpel got one for the Slovaks. Ovechkin responded. It went back and forth for ever. We were screaming like sturzbesoffens.

In a round about way, Ovechkin was bested by Sid again, as he couldn't convert on his next two shoot out attempts, where Sid of course did and played hero in the Canada game. (what a warm up.)

The Realator was especially into it, as his hometown hero, Pavel Demitra was up for round two. The Canuck faked far left only to dart back and put in the top corner, stunning Bryzgalov, the Russians and the world.

[Maniwaki media insert. The next day two monster US hockey fans rolled up to the bar. They went to every game at the Olympic Garage that I wrote about here. They took footy of Demitra's shoot out winner from right behind the Russian net. It is one of the greatest pieces of Olympic video that I saw during the entire Games. They said they'd send it to me, but I don't know if they were just yakking at the bar. If I do end up getting it I'll post it here. You'll lose your shit. We can only hope.]

We finished our pints and hit;

The Big Tent. As our ticket number was conveniently up. These Olympics really had a way of just working out. How you wanted them to. When you needed them to. We rolled into the big top. Were waived the twenty buck cover, and proceeded to order pints.

The scene was like some kind of transplanted Oktoberfest. An Ooompah band (anther one) on stage playing covers of American rock songs. People jumping around and dancing on the floors. Rowdy Canadians standing on benches screaming at the top of their lungs (only to be promptly and efficiently dispatched by the uber door men.)

At one point a rock came flying over to our squad. The Realtor picked it up, and drunkenly debated hurling it back at the collection of rowdy Canadians that were making like Ernie Whitt, coaxing him to put it over the plate. In a rare moment of not making the stupid decision, I told him it would be a bad idea. Those Germans looked like they could handle us, Water St and the entire city if they wanted to.

He agreed. And instead, elected to slide the stone down the long table to the rowdy Canadians. Then the makeshift curling match started. With an actual stone. It went for few ends until the sound man, came over and shut it down as we were amped up, throwing hyper hack weight, and barely missing his set up. Fare enough. Game over.

Onto the show. Jumped around like it was '92, as the ooompah band finaled with what they deemed, "the most important song in the world. A Canadian song."

Despite the uber security, it was indeed a free tent and a free world. Which we proceeded to rock mightily.

The Day After

Hung over with a captial "O". Still trying to process and absorb the magnitude of the previous 24 hours, and last two weeks.

Holy smokes, I still can't believe Sid scored that goal.

FULL recap of the missing pieces coming over the course of this week.