Fucking net. That’s the whole problem with hockey, the net part. If it wasn’t for the nets, the Habs would have won. I mean, come on, they were obviously the superior team in all non-net-related aspects of the game.
It must have been a frustrating night for Carbonneau:
Habs Line (on the ice): [Faceoff] – [Pass] – [Deke] – [Pass] – [Pass] – [Giveaway] – [Thwack]
Habs Line (still on the ice): [Rebound] – [Pass] – [Pass] – [Pass] – [Twirl] – [Pass] – [Swoop] – [Thwack] – [Pass] – [Pass] – [Twirl] – [Deke] – [Pass] – [Thwack] – [Giveaway] – [Thwack] – [Dump-in] – [Change]
Habs Line (on the bench): Yeah! Whoo-hoo! We fucking showed them!
Habs Line: Fuck yeah! [Spit]
Carbonneau: Guys, you didn’t take any shots.
Habs Line: We didn’t?
Habs Line: Yeah, well, we ran fucking circles around them! Yeah!
Carbonneau: But if you don’t take any shots, you’re not going to score, and then we’re going to lose.
Habs Line: We are?
Habs Line: But… but… we were prettier than them… and faster… and thwackier…[Sniffle]
Carbonneau: Dammit. Kirk, get the Kleenex, they’re crying again.
Muller: [Heavy sigh] You have to be more sensitive, Guy. They’re artists, not hockey players.
Carbonneau: [Cajoling] Look, Hamrlik can shoot! Markov can shoot! And they’re still pretty! Aren’t they?
Habs Line: [Sulking] Not as pretty as we are…
I think, in order to preserve the Canadiens’ self-esteem, we need to change the rules. Fewer nets, more pucks, and the winner decided by a panel of celebrity judges after one hour. We’d win every game.