It's been over for weeks, but our loyal readers deserve to know how this year's S.C.H.L.U.B.B. turned out. Here's how: in abject failure.
I got married in the middle of the first round, and my (lovely!) bride insisted that I shave for our ceremony. This sounded to me like a reasonable requirement, but so, I am now certain, did Delilah's grooming tips sound reasonable to Samson. Deprived of their
main source of inspiration and power — the scruff on my ugly mug — the once-mighty Red Wings lost Game 5 of their first-round series to the Oilers on my wedding day, and went on to lose Game 6 and the series during my honeymoon. It was entirely my fault, obviously. I let myself down, but worse than that: I let the team down.
The only other two participants this year were my friends Dave and Joel, who were both in the wedding party. Both also shaved for the ceremony, and by the time the Zambonis were resurfacing the rinks for round two, their chosen teams had been eliminated too. We all learned a powerful lesson about the dangers of shaving during the playoffs, and I, for one, will never marry again.
Here's what we looked like the day before the wedding, and you can see why my bride-to-be wanted us to clean up. Not that it made Abercrombie & Fitch models out of any of us.
