There’s a very thin line between love and hate. Thin, blue lines…
I can’t even remember when I started hating Detroit. Maybe it was when I was a kid and some other kid wore the jersey and started trash-talking the way all fans do sometimes…I just can’t remember. Kind of like the Hatfields and McCoys, who after so many years of fighting, forgot why the scrap started in the first place…all they knew…was anything from the other “Wuz fightin’ words” and then it was on.
Detroit pisses me off. I hate how their fans invade Nationwide Arena when we host the Red Wings. I don’t like the sea of red and white and all the spirit gear these cats have on when they come to our house. They never fail to show up. They never fail to make thunder and lightning rise from the seats. Sometimes, when they come to our house…it’s hard to figure out where you are: Detroit or Columbus. And I hate it.
I blame Detroit for many things. Even when none of it makes sense. A year or so back, when we hosted Detroit, they absolutely and effectively massacred us. They (fans) taunted Mason with no mercy and it messed him up for a long time. They screamed stuff like “You couldn’t stop a beach ball!!” And Mase thought all that smack was coming from Jacket fans…he’s only now beginning to act like himself again.
But I blame Detroit. I like to say the team looks like they don’t change their underpants. When we lose to Detroit, I point that out to everyone: Easy to win if your gear stinks so bad that you’re killing the opponent with olfactory weaponry and taking out the ice level fans as well.
I pout a lot. I like to say I’m not afraid of Detroit. (You kiddin’ me?!) But I noticed something over the last two with The Wings…We’re plenty the same. The games are so close it’s just a matter of time and not necessarily skill. We split the games with Detroit. We picked some points and they were, by all accounts, good ol’ good ones: TV show story games…Captain ties things up with seconds to go…good stuff that make fans go crazy.
I’m sure the Detroit fellas change their underwear and wash their gear. Their fans love them as much as I love my Jackets. They throw sea creatures on the ice and we carry the flag…
Good games, Detroit. I guess maybe you don’t stink too bad…but you won’t hear that from me.