April 18, 2008
It's the greatest tradition in playoff hockey: The time-honored postgame handshake between weary warriors ...
"Good job there, Chubs. Nice 2.98 goals-against and a .904 save percentage. You let in more softies than a Curves. They're shining up your Conn Smythe now, Marty. What, did you forget to shake my hand, Fatso?"
"Bite me, Avery."
"Hey, remember that time when I started waving my arms and my stick in front of your face, and it was so completely awesome that the NHL had to make a rule saying that I couldn't do it anymore, and I think they actually called it the Sean Avery Rule, because Sean Avery totally F'n rules?"
"I'll be sure to remember that anecdote during my Hall of Fame acceptance speech. Just be happy I didn't go Ron Hextall on you, buddy."
"Hey, remember when you got caught diving, and everybody laughed because it was so lame? You're like, what, 50 years old? Classy."
"You wouldn't know 'class' if it was dating Elisha Cuthbert."
"Whatever. I get into off-the-heezy clubs that you couldn't even dream of getting into. I'm NYC, dude. You're Jersey; you ski in your jeans."
"Nice career, by the way. Is that what happens when someone wants to be a male model but is just ugly enough to have to play hockey?"
"Enjoy the off-season, Tons-of-Fun. Rangers in five! The buffet opens at eight, Marty."
"Hey, best of luck in Round 2, and continued success in pretending you don't have to pay for it."