Home > It is raining in my heart > Dr. Flameslove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Losing Streak

Dr. Flameslove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Losing Streak

Look Flames, I love you.  I do.  But you are a very bad team.  Yes, bounces blah blah.  Percentages, I know.  I’ve heard it all before.  I look at stats.  But you are awful.  Not Leafs awful.  Definitely not Oilers awful.  You are your own brand of awful, where you’re talented enough to squeak by frequently enough that fans still care, but you just don’t put the effort forth.  I watch you, and there’s no drive.  Nobody really pushes to the net.  You pass the puck, take a half hearted shot, and call it a day. In a way, this is worse than the Leafs or Oilers, because you’re like a girl at a club who comes up, makes out with you, then asks you to buy her a beer.  And when you do she’s gone.  You’re a tease we spend money on.  And then occasionally, you throw up on our shoes, like at San Jose this year.  Or Chicago.  Or when Chicago visits us.  Or whenever Chicago thinks about us.

So why do I love the losing streak?  The longer it goes on, the likelier we are to see Dion Phaneuf (in my club girl analogy he’s her asshole boytoy who enables her because he doesn’t want to spend money on her drinks) shipped off.  Maybe for a first rounder even!  And hell, if it goes long enough, the bouncer who lets this clearly underaged bimbo through the door (D. Sutter in this painfully never ending analogy) gets fired too.

Let’s face it, nobody knows why the Flames play with no heart or passion, but that’s a fact.  Even after a 9-1 loss that’s gradually becoming hilarious in hindsight, you come out dead.  So please, ship off everyone.  Except Rene Bourque.  I like him.  At least he’ll make out with me a little bit more after I buy him a drink.  Erm.  Yeah.

I need to get drunk before tonight’s game.

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