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07-26-2008, 11:32 PM
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Two stories that are embedded in my mind. Surely there are more. And I throw things during most games, so I won't even bother to mention them.

One is from just a couple of months ago, Game 1 against the Penguins. My grandmother lives upstairs from me and quite often my uncle (her son, she has two) will come over to visit and use her computer and things like that. Now, my uncle is scarred for life because his grandfather used to curse and drink heavily and all sorts of things like that. So as a result, he never curses, won't even drink wine and just generally avoids things like that.

So I'm downstairs watching the game and watching the season slip away in the course of one game, and like most times when the Rangers/Giants/Yankees start playing like crap, the expletives come flying. My grandmother, bless her soul, is pretty much used to overhearing it by now. But my uncle doesn't come over that often, so he got to hear me refer to Crosby, Malkin and the rest of that God-forsaken team by at least 18 separate words that shouldn't be uttered on television. Thank you Crosby, because of you, you caused a family incident.

Story number two goes WAY back...Game 1 of the 1996 Eastern Conference Quarterfinals against the Canadiens. I had a date that night to go to Roseland with this girl to see Joan Osborne (remember her?). Naturally we purchased tickets weeks before we even knew who or when the Rangers would play.

So we get to the concert...and I wasn't impressed. So I left her behind and watched most of the third period and overtime (damn you Vinny Damphousse) at this bar to the side of the general standing area. At the end of the night, let's just say she wasn't pleased with my actions....nor was I with the result of the game. Needless to say, we didn't stay together for long.

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