I do have words for Grand Valley's inability to pick up FS+, stranding me with the Nashville feed on the internet. Most of them I tend to avoid in polite company. Some of you may remember that this is not the first time I have subjected myself to this torture. Tonight was no improvement.
First of all, the Predators are having a mustache contest for prostate awareness. That's right. They're growing porno-tastic facial-hair to encourage men to let complete strangers shove their cold fingers... I mean, I'm all for prostate health, but really, Nashville? Really?
What's more, instead of Red Wings player of the game updates, I was encouraged to vote for my favorite Pred-stache (which is now my new replacement word for "pedo-stache". Even the hockey-ignorant will get the joke).
Alright Bubba, I'll bite. My vote was for Dan Hamhuis because his looks the most well-groomed.
Sadly, my vote counted for nothing, as J.P. Dumont won the contest by a landslide.
I wonder what his prize is. Maybe a free prostate exam...
It turns out that the announcers in Nashville couldn't believe that Bertuzzi had actually saved the game a second night in a row either, since they seemed pretty sure that Zetterberg had scored the goal, but the screams of "HOLY CRAP! HOLY CRAP, TODD, ARE YOU KIDDING ME, OH MY GOD BERTUZZI WHAT THE CRAP!" that were coming from my phone sounded surer than they did.
Let's revisit that moment again, shall we?
And it was Chris Osgood's 396th career win, which took him 5 weeks to get. Good lord.