Well, I’m officially motivated. Let’s hope somebody at the rink has his iPhone on and is passing this around to the players.

Just fucking brilliant…

Brian, you do realize, if the Blues win again tonight, this is a must do piece every game….
I hope you have long sleepless hours thinking this kind of shit up….

Now, just for the record:
Fuck Detroit.

That NEVER gets old.

LET’S GO BLUES!!!!!

I see you got my suggestion from over at the Asylum…

BRILLIANT!!!!

Once more into the crease, dear friends, once more;
Or litter the ice with our St. Louis dead.
In the pre-season there’s nothing so becomes a man
As modest stillness and humility,
Though picking up a check at dinner now and then helps as well:
But when the blast of the playoffs blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the tiger;
Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,
Get those brass knuckles out of hock,
Disguise fair nature with hard-favour’d rage;
Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;
I didn’t mean you Steen, you’re scary enough already;
Let pry through the portage of the head
Like the brass cannon;
(I’m not sure what that means exactly,
But it certainly sounds cool or painful);
Let the brow o’erwhelm it
As fearfully as doth a galled rock
O’erhang and jutty his confounded base,
Swill’d with the wild and wasteful ocean.
I forget, was that a metaphor or a simile?
Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide,
Imagine you are roasting Towel Boy over a spit,
Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit
To his full height. On, on, you noblest Blues.
Whose blood is fet from players of seven game series-proof!
Gamers that, like so many Brian Sutters,
Have in these parts from morn till even fought,
Checked, skated, high-sticked, roughed,
And mocked their foes for lack of argument:
Dishonour not your mothers; now attest
That those whom you call’d fathers did beget you.
(Someone explain that to Berglund.)
Be copy now to men of grosser blood,
Like Perron here, or Crombeen
And teach them how to war. And you, good skaters,
Whose limbs were made in Canada, Europe or the States, show us here
The mettle of your pasture; let us swear
That you are worth your daddy not pulling out when he had the chance;
Which I doubt not;
Really, I doubt it not; forget I ever mentioned it:
For there is none of you so mean and base,
That hath not noble lustre in your eyes,
Except for maybe you Cam.
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,
Like the SLGT crew when the beer vendor wanders by,
Straining upon the start. The game’s afoot:
Follow your spirit, and upon this charge
Cry ‘God for Davidson, the Blues, and Saint Louis!’

(Alright…I’m now officially Shakespeared out.)

I say Blutos speech from Animal House

I love these and Matt Foley is such a perfect one. I can’t believe I never thought of it.

Courtesy of my good friend Trevor.

Yep, I have to work very early tommorow, that means I have to be awake very early.. So that means as well that I can stay up and watch (have to find a live stream yet) or listen in again since my return home to Europe from the USA.

So expect me to be in the GDT tonight! Even though is seven %&% hours later here. Oh well, even in Europe a fan will do everything for a play-off berth lol…

See ya tonight amigo’s