I went down to Joe Louis Arena earlier this week. The halls were dark, the tunnels empty. I was about to leave when I heard the sound of conversation.Nice try, Mitch, but everyone knows that sticks don't talk and even if they did they wouldn't talk to pucks, because pucks are black and sticks are really racist. When is someone going to hold this guy accountable?
"And that makes one year," a voice whispered.
"One stinkin' year," said another.
"Yeah. Happy stinkin' anniversary."
I crouched low. Through the dim light I saw a stick and a puck. The stick had hundreds of notches on its shaft. It had just cut a new one. I'm not sure how, since a stick has no arms. Then again, sticks aren't supposed to talk, either.
"Three hundred sixty-five notches," it said. "Three hundred sixty-five days. One full year. No Red Wings."
"One full year," the puck said, glumly.