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On panic buttons, overconfidence and the screwing of the pooch.


The Panic Button is right there.

I have opened the protective cover and have staged my hand nearby, with my finger only inches from making contact.

This is horseshit. This sudden departure from the things that we did that made us successful is infuriating.

Did the Blues start believing their own hype?

Here's my theory: TJ Oshie wakes up in the middle of the night in a hotel room - still drunk - next to a fat chick and needs to make himself feel better...boost the ole confidence... So, he starts trolling the internet, googling various phrases with his name in it. "Oshie rocks," Oshie scores," "Oshie is dreamy." While on his search he discovers the Game Time, and starts reading the GDT (ignoring games where the Blues didn't play well, of course.)
Oshie comes to the only conclusion possible...the Blues are fucking awesome. They are unbeatable. All they need is for Elliot to be present on the ice and pucks will magically fly AWAY from the Blue's goal. The mere presence of David Backes scares teams into submission. Perron can breakdance, while sleepwalking, and score with his eyes closed.
So, when Berglund and Perron ask what he did last night, he can't tell them about the fat chick. So he tells them that he spent all night reading critical acclaim of the Blues and gets all the boys believing that their shit smells like fucking lily petals.

(Conclusion after "the jump")


Unfortunately, in the real fucking world, teams have figured out the magic trick. Something funny about being the NHL leader...people notice and do crazy shit like watch game tape and study the system...but not to admire...oh no young Oshie...to find our flaws and kick our ass.

The Blues are floundering; opponents are keeping our shots long and outside, anticipating our passes down low, ducking our hits and foiling our D with crisp, quick passes. Then, they frustrate the shit out of us and watch as we immaturely take a gazillion penalties.


We are preparing to screw the pooch. We've got our lube and our peanut butter on standby and our drawers are undone. If someone doesn't wake us the hell up ASAP, we are going to have another brief, disappointing playoff season.

We don't have the experience as a team to expect that we can magically 'flip the switch.'
We need to pull our head out of our collective asses and regain the fire and the format that got us here.

Blues, you are not a team of rock stars. You are a team of roughnecks. You succeed because you have 2 superhuman goalies and you work your asses off.
Stop sucking.
Now.

                                                                                                                                                                                                               

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