It has been a little bit of time. In fact one might have found oneself thinking that Link may never again post one of those things that resembles the sorts of sonnets one would see in a middle school English class. As it turns out one would be wrong. In fact you would be wrong. Inspired by the tension and excitement of the first day of the NHL’s annual Free Agency depression-fest I sat down and pounded out another series of verses that totally lack most of the form commonly found in sonnets. That’s ok though because other than a very frustrated English teacher wearing a Steve Sullivan t-shirt no one cares about that sort of thing. Anyways, today marked the first time that Predator fans got to see David Poile in action on the opening day of free agency. Of course bringing on former Predators backup/starter/cast-off Chris Mason isn’t a huge splash, but it was a welcome and popular move. Fans weren’t gifted with any of the positive news that we so desperately craved, but having then again that just wouldn’t be the Predator Way.
And so we reach my dedication to day one of 2012’s NHL Free Agency Season:
In the ever winding hours we stare,
And yet none know even if the C needs an heir.
We wait for wayward sons and new brothers.
Rumors aplenty and all have their druthers.
While bards write of geese and mohawked mutants
Fans all agree the net is now puissant.
The keystone is patched with finest plaster
Vital since we scare defense away ever faster.
So much like Delphi the question never dies,
But with fewer women and more sweaty man thighs.
Not even sage Poile knows if Suter will sign
But David’s not a man to sit by and whine.
With the slash of a pen and swoosh of his tie
You know what, it doesn’t matter the fans we’re all still going to cry.