An Open Letter To The Pittsburgh Penguins

Dear Sir, or in the case of Sidney Crosby, Madam,

My name is Wyatt Earp, and I have been a loyal Penguins fan since the mid-80's - you know, when you guys sucked arse. Cripes, my favorite player was Zarley Zalapski, for God's sake! Anyway, I was tickled pink when you guys made the Stanley Cup Finals, and while I assumed that the Detroit Red Wings would eventually win the title - I'm a fan, not a Kool-Aid drinker - I hoped you guys would at least show up.

Apparently, y'all had different plans.

I wrote off your Game 1 loss to nerves. You're a young team, and I figured that you were too busy pulling your underwear out of your tightened sphincters to create some offense. No biggie. I usually get nauseous in big games, too. Common sense told me that you would bounce back in Game 2, and play with heart . . . and sack.

Apparently, y'all had different plans.

Now, you guys are down two games to none, and the Red Wings are in a position to win the title at Mellon Arena. I am still supporting you, but with only my sister-in-law Sharon (a Pittsburgh native) in my corner, we're two fans on an island surrounded by Pens haters. So, in the interest of good sportsmanship, I want to say this:

HEY, JERKASSES! GET YOUR DAMNED HEADS OUT OF YOUR ASSES AND PLAY SOME GOD-DAMNED HOCKEY! THE RED WINGS HAVE WON 11 CHAMPIONSHIPS, AND ARE GUNNING FOR AN EVEN DOZEN. AND YOU IDIOTS ARE LETTING THEM DO IT!!!

CROSBY, GROW A PAIR AND CRASH THE NET! MALKIN, START PLAYING MORE LIKE EVGENI AND LESS LIKE MICHELLE! FLEURY, STOP A PUCK OR TWO! AT THIS POINT, YOU COULDN'T SAVE COUPONS! DAMNIT!!!

And, you know, just have fun. I mean, it's only a game, right?