Game No. 36: Beating two dead horses at once
By Ryan Lambert
13 years ago
Yes, it’s a ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas parody about Darryl Sutter being a bad GM. And yet it doesn’t suck as much as you’d think!
‘Twas the night before break and we knew at the ‘Dome,
Not a game would be won on the road or at home.
Two points long past hoped-for, more losses expected;
At least Olli Jokinen’s shot was perfected.
His contract was awful. It just made no sense
But what do you want from a GM this dense?
He hired his brother away from ol’ Lou,
And who could have guessed that he’d coach like dog poo?
(When out from the cold came the Stars, fresh from Dallas,
We found Backlund was scratched in favor of Ales.)
Fresh groans rose again from Calgary’s cynics,
Knowing Darryl would trade a first-rounder for Winnik,
And no number of stats or string of bad losses
Would be enough to remove him from the front office.
When, what to our wondering eyes should appear,
But a decent performance from Robyn Regehr.
Nowadays, that strange sight seems much rarer than gold,
So please don’t remind me that he’s now getting old.
Hopelessness advanced in a manner quite quick
As Darryl rattled off contracts that make us all sick:
"Steve Staios makes much more than two Sekeras,
And I gave Cory Sarich a No Movement Clause!
We’re surely lose Tanguay to free agency,
So I’ll sign Kostopulous through 2050."
Thus our misery extends far too long to guess,
What did we do to ever get in this mess?
Yes, the Flames made the Cup final in 2004.
But they won’t make it back for a hundred years more.
That team’s limitations were far, far exceeded,
And that gave ol’ Darryl the cachet he needed
To hire three coaches and rip through a ton
Of free agents, of which he should have signed none.
Amonte and Zyuzin, McCarty and Friesen,
Not one of them signed with attention to reason.
But he traded for Kipper, a wise, learned decision
That he always could point to when faced with derision.
His pressers got gruff and then they got gruffer,
So Jay Feaster was hired to serve as a buffer.
His critics impassioned, they almost wrote sonnets.
But he couldn’t care less, if he was being quite honest;
He managed the team in the way he saw fit
It didn’t matter to him if it was really quite shit.
If the fans didn’t like it, then they could just see
How they felt when he picked in the draft lottery.
There was surely a Western Canadian center
Whose unquestioned skills would silence dissenters.
While he’d never admit it, the stubborn old horse,
And told Brent to repeat, "We must stay the course,"
He must have some mad plan stashed up his sleeve
That he’d revealed in a meeting on if he should leave.
The plot must be foolproof, both brilliant and wry
To make it up to all of the fans he made cry
Like in old ’89, he’d acquire his Lanny
THAT must be what saved him from being out on his fanny!
He CAN lead the Flames back to the Cup again,
But more likely, I say that so I stay sane.
Not a game would be won on the road or at home.
Two points long past hoped-for, more losses expected;
At least Olli Jokinen’s shot was perfected.
His contract was awful. It just made no sense
But what do you want from a GM this dense?
He hired his brother away from ol’ Lou,
And who could have guessed that he’d coach like dog poo?
(When out from the cold came the Stars, fresh from Dallas,
We found Backlund was scratched in favor of Ales.)
Fresh groans rose again from Calgary’s cynics,
Knowing Darryl would trade a first-rounder for Winnik,
And no number of stats or string of bad losses
Would be enough to remove him from the front office.
When, what to our wondering eyes should appear,
But a decent performance from Robyn Regehr.
Nowadays, that strange sight seems much rarer than gold,
So please don’t remind me that he’s now getting old.
Hopelessness advanced in a manner quite quick
As Darryl rattled off contracts that make us all sick:
"Steve Staios makes much more than two Sekeras,
And I gave Cory Sarich a No Movement Clause!
We’re surely lose Tanguay to free agency,
So I’ll sign Kostopulous through 2050."
Thus our misery extends far too long to guess,
What did we do to ever get in this mess?
Yes, the Flames made the Cup final in 2004.
But they won’t make it back for a hundred years more.
That team’s limitations were far, far exceeded,
And that gave ol’ Darryl the cachet he needed
To hire three coaches and rip through a ton
Of free agents, of which he should have signed none.
Amonte and Zyuzin, McCarty and Friesen,
Not one of them signed with attention to reason.
But he traded for Kipper, a wise, learned decision
That he always could point to when faced with derision.
His pressers got gruff and then they got gruffer,
So Jay Feaster was hired to serve as a buffer.
His critics impassioned, they almost wrote sonnets.
But he couldn’t care less, if he was being quite honest;
He managed the team in the way he saw fit
It didn’t matter to him if it was really quite shit.
If the fans didn’t like it, then they could just see
How they felt when he picked in the draft lottery.
There was surely a Western Canadian center
Whose unquestioned skills would silence dissenters.
While he’d never admit it, the stubborn old horse,
And told Brent to repeat, "We must stay the course,"
He must have some mad plan stashed up his sleeve
That he’d revealed in a meeting on if he should leave.
The plot must be foolproof, both brilliant and wry
To make it up to all of the fans he made cry
Like in old ’89, he’d acquire his Lanny
THAT must be what saved him from being out on his fanny!
He CAN lead the Flames back to the Cup again,
But more likely, I say that so I stay sane.
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