#STANLEY CUP MOTHERFUCKING CHAMPION!!!!!!!!!!!

[goldenmisfits]

parade jack

[korshrimpski]

I TAKE IT BACK MOTHERFUCKERS!! THE YOTES ARE THE MOST GOATED TEAM!! WE WILL WIN THE STANLEY CUP! WE WILL RESURRECT GOD! WE WILL DEFEAT THE WORLDS EVILS! WE WILL BE CHAMPIONS!!WE WILL WALK THROUGH THE NINE LAYERS OF HELL AND SURVIVE!! WE WILL STEAL THE MOON!! WE WILL FIGHT GOD!!

[thornescratch]

hey thorne! WHATS YOUR FAV PIC OF TOM WILSON?

Uhhhhhhhhh. I've always been partial to this one despite its poor resolution and size just because it was the first one I ever put in my folder specifically devoted to Willy Face, where Tom Wilson is in the middle of some kind of shitshow and looking absolutely delighted about it.

Look at him. That is a man who wakes up every morning with "I think I will cause problems on purpose" as the first thing on his mind. I have a lot of Willy Face pictures.

But honestly, it’s really handy to just revert to any of the pictures of him lifting the cup because it makes people so mad. Yes, Tom Wilson is a Stanley Cup Champion. Eat your heart out, you butthurt motherfuckers. Is it petty to whip out the Cup pictures, say "lol fuck you, got mine" and celebrate? It sure is! Is that gonna stop me? It sure won’t! We had to put up with years of that from other fans before the Caps finally broke through. So, like, it’s hard to not include Cup pictures like the ones below:

Anyway, the other thing about selecting a favorite Tom Wilson picture is the fact he’s really fucking good looking. Like, seriously, the man is goddamn handsome. He’s built like a brick shithouse and has features chiseled like fine Canadian granite. And honestly, that just adds to it. Like, this is hockey and we all have our weird blind attraction spots for the players. Missing teeth, facial scars, helmet hair, mullets, playoff beards, the grotesque array of mustaches that hockey produces every November... but Wilson is legitimately, actually, stupidly good looking in a way that would not be out of place in a modeling photo shoot.

Plus, anything with Michael Latta. I miss that Caps Roomies vibe,

And then there’s that classic one of Ovi coming up from behind with crazy eyes to pie him in the face. Can’t leave that out.

Or when he recorded that ad for safety on the Metro.

Or any picture he takes with dogs.

In general it is hard to find a bad picture of Tom Wilson, and I have a lot of favorites.

[mypantsflewoff]

PHILLLLLLLLL!!!!!!!!

[finnmafia]

two time stanley cup champion phil kessel giving us the motherfucking lead!! hell yeah babie!!!

[backstrom19]

Alex Ovechkin, Stanley Cup Champion

And Nicke

And Holts

And Jay motherfucking Beagle!

[princeandreburakovsky]

THE WASHINGTON CAPITALS ARE STANLEY MOTHERFUCKING CUP CHAMPIONS

[angry-pens-fan]

AND THIS, MOTHERFUCKERS, IS WHY WE ARE THE STANLEY CUP MOTHERFUCKING CHAMPIONS

[he-ebs]

PHIL KESSEL IS A MOTHERFUCKING STANLEY CUP CHAMPION

[mkyujji]

15 Reasons to cheer for the Penguins

1. Sidney Crosby.  Haters gonna hate, but holy fuck that man is a fucking artist on the ice.

2. Marc Andre Fluery.  Flower Power.  ‘Nuff said.

3. Evgeni Malkin.  I’m a little bit die.  He’s like... a penguinshark.  if that was a thing... that should be a thing.  Geno makes that a thing.

4.  Their logo is a penguin.  How awesome is that?

5.  Sidney motherfucking Crosby.  (it bears repeating.)

6.  My ex-husband is a Phillidelphia Flyers fan.  That means I’m contractually obligated to cheer for their rivals.  The Penguins.

7.  Conor Sheary is an adorable little shit.

8.  Sidney Crosby’s ass.  

9. Phil Kessel is a Stanley Cup Champion.

10.  BoninoBoninoBonino!

11.  Kuni!  omg, Kuni.  I love Kuni.  I love him so much, I”m surprised he somehow ended up this far down the list.

12. Sidney Crosby’s mouth....  >_>

13. Captain Canada!  (okay, yeah, I mean Sidney there too.)

14. Houston (the hometown of birth where I usually cheer) has no team for me to claim as my ‘hometown team’.

15. Seattle (the hometown of migrational choice) is super lame and keeps choosing not to build an Arena and get a local team that I can cheer for.  Super Lame.  

[alabaster-black-the-ccp]

THE MOTHERFUCKING DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA BITCH!!!!!!!! ROCK THE RED!!!!!! YOUR 2018 STANLEY CUP CHAMPIONS, THE WASHINGTON CAPITOLS🦅🦅🦅 (at Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport)

[skerbango-blog]

Liverpool Champions League Semi-final Viewing -Gerrard

This is not how I was supposed to write this post. My thought was that I would sit at a bar, and live blog the Liverpool Roma match (yes, we soccer people call it a match). Along the way I would make witty notes about some of the patrons there; such as the way they eat their food, judge them on their drink of choice, and generally make fun of their appearance.

But then things changed. I didn’t bring my laptop to the bar, and got a little buzzed before the game even started. I tried pulling up the mobile version of word on my phone to maybe start live blogging. I typically write in a Calibri 11 or 12 font. Try doing that on the mobile version of Word. The little people in Gulliver’s Travels would have a hard time reading the screen. At that moment I said fuck it, I’ll just watch the pre-game and drink beer. Also, by that time, my good buddy Senator Jersey had arrived. It’s rude to bury your face in a phone while your buddy comes to hang out with you.

Fuzzily I recollect both the bars we went to. Both bars are about 10 feet away from the Prudential Center, home of the 1995, 2000, and 2003 Stanley Cup Champions. I’d be remiss not to add that little factoid in there. It helped that those years were plastered in giant 10-foot lettering on the Devils team store glass walls. Then you have the requisite giant Fathead type action shots of the Devils players down the rest of the glass walls. If you bet me $20 to name a single Devils player on the current roster, you’d win that bet. The only reason I care about the Devils is because of some type of odd pride about New Jersey, and the fact that we showed that a team, once dubbed by The Great One as a “Mickey Mouse” team, win 3 Stanley Cups in less than 10 years. Face it, my state doesn’t get much positive press for anything, so we take what we can get, and cling on to past hockey championships even more than NY Rangers fans. The part about Jersey being a conduit with a few nasty rest stops for NYC and Philly is for another post. I don’t want to go off on too much of a tangent.

Back to the bars. I get to Edison Ale House around 1:15 PM or so, and the dank, long bar with dim lighting is empty, except for the bartender, and the manager pecking at her laptop, and blathering on about something with a waiter/waitress. One note about the wait person; I seriously couldn’t tell, from about 25 feet away if it was a guy or a gal. Not that I give a shit, but if, for some reason, I needed the waitress, I wouldn’t want to use the wrong pronoun. Turns out it was a chick.

Anyway, I look through the beer list, and nothing particularly stands out to me. I see a wheat beer from a brewery in India, and I want to support any entity from my (Mother, Father?) land. It sucked ass. Now, I’m sitting in front of a TV that has the NHL network on with the Vaseline coated teeth hosts

interviewing the coach of the Calgary Flames. I know shit about hockey, and even less about Calgary. So I order a beer from some brewery called Industrial Arts or some shit like that, which is based somewhere in Musny’s uninhabitable neighborhood. It’s a decent Pale Ale, and I go to try and enter it on my Untappd. THE BAR HAS NO FUCKING WIFI! Ok, calm down, I can use my data. OH WAIT, NO I CAN’T, BECAUSE THIS FUCKING BAR BLOCKS ALL KINDS OF DATA SIGNALS, LIKE SPENCER’S SOUNDPROOF BASEMENT WHICH BLOCKS THE SCREAMS OF TORTURED WOMEN. I take a deep breath, and by that time, my buddy Senator Jersey has arrived. I look at the time, and it’s 2PM on the dot. Jersey NEVER gets anywhere on time. He tells me that there’s a German beer hall like 10 steps down from this place. “Do they show soccer”, I ask? “Considering they have soccer balls hanging outside, I’m pretty sure they do”, he says. I give him a Xavier McDaniel like stare, and tell him to finish his fucking beer so that we can go.

We get to Redd’s Biergarten, which is an old style dark German Beer Hall with rustic wooden benches, rustic wooden beams crisscrossing the ceilings, 2 rustic wooden long bars with rustic wooden chairs. You’re sensing a theme here, aren’t you? I’ll try not to use the word rustic anymore in the rest of the post. HOWEVAH, the bar doesn’t have the normal 15-20 feet high ceilings that most Beirgartens have; the ones I’ve been to anyway.

We park in front of one of the big screens which has some ESPN shit on. Jersey asks the bartender “can you…”, and before he could finish, the hot bartender almost snaps back at him “at 2:45 PM”. It’s 2:35 now. Fine, we peruse the beer list on the board and the bartender hands us an extended list. Some decent offerings, and I pick something I’ve never had before. That’s just my thing with beer. Beer arrives, it’s fine. Jersey wants to order some apps and calls out to the bartender “ma’am, what’s your name?” I look at him, “what the fuck do you mean ma’am, call her Miss. Does she look like a ma’am? She’s like in her late 20s or 30s”. We get into it a little bit about ‘ma’am’ vs ‘miss’, but I’m not going to give you people the long drawn out argument.

Game motherfucking on! Roma comes out with a high attacking press, and I rub my eyes to make sure that’s an Eyetalian team we’re playing. The fucking Italians never play that type of high attacking press, unless they’re hitting on your wife or girlfriend when you’re visiting Italy. It takes Liverpool a little bit of time to adjust, but they do. Some back and forth for a little bit until one of the Roma midfielders unleashes a dipping shot from about 35 yards out, that the Liverpool goalie gets a finger on, and it hits the bottom of the crossbar and bounces out. Almost shit my pants right there.

Jersey’s gorgeous girlfriend arrives, and I don’t even stand up to give her a hug, but I still give her a hug with one eye on the game. By this time, Liverpool’s front line of Salah, Mane, and Firmino are wreaking havoc on Roma’s vaunted midfield. In the 35th minute, Salah bombs a curling shot that not even Inspector Gadget or Plasticman could have saved. Inch perfect in the top left corner. It’s 1-0 Liverpool. Then 10 minutes later, just before the half, Salah receives a gorgeous fucking pass from Firmino, jukes his way through his defender, and chips in a shot over the onrushing Allison. Side note: there’s SOME resemblance here.

Now I’m just drinking all different kinds of beers, and feeling REAL good. It also helps that Liverpool comes out in the 2nd half with guns blazing. Before you could blink, it’s 5-0 Liverpool, and this is the part where the rest of the day starts getting fuzzy. All I remember is high fiving Liverpool fans at every goal. Roma pulls back with 2 goals of their own, and I snap back from my drunken reverie as if I got slapped by Marlon Brando in The Godfather.

I’ve seen this story before in the quarterfinals when Roma came back and beat Barcelona. They lost to Barcelona 4-1 in Barcelona, but won 3-0 at home to advance to the semi-finals. Soccer has this tie-breaker (how do you break a 0-0 tie?)

where the team that has scored more away goals in the event of a tie score, wins. This means that Roma must win at home 3-0, and they advance to the finals. Given the porous Liverpool midfield and defense, a choke job of monumental proportions is entirely possible.

Anyway, I drank some more, did a shot of Tullamore Dew, and stumbled back to the train station. I got on an express train which didn’t stop at my stop, but I still managed to get home, finish the last episode of the first season of The Wire, eat some pepperoni pizza, and pass out for the night.