Tuesday, March 1, 2011

This one's for all the Old Dutch Rip-L chips

Another titanic struggle is brewing tomorrow evening, this time in the world of high school hockey.  I don't want to oversell it, but in a world where protesting union workers can compare the govenor of Wisconsin to a totalitarian Egyptian dictator without even the slightest realization of how ridiculous they sound, I'd say Edina vs. Burnsville ranks somewhere between USA v. USSR and Blazin wings v. bowels on the rivalry scale.  That's not a comment on politics either, more of a comment on the use of hyperbole and how it makes people tune out whatever comes after.  Anyway, I learned a long time ago that discussing hockey is a much more worthwhile use of time than debating political affiliations.

But we do all strive to make the things we love as epic as possible, look no further than every UFC poster you've ever seen.  A mechanic and personal trainer squaring off and they're trying to sell it like it's Ali-Fraizer III.  But hey, that's what generates the buzz, so I'll just say that the people of Edina are pure evil.  Pretty sure they caused the housing market to crash so they could bulldoze the foreclosed home in neighboring communities for tennis course.  That hasn't been substantiated yet, but I got it from the same guy who told me Derek Jeter is on steroids, so fairly solid.  And oh yeah, if there are any kids reading, Edina people make stew out of puppies and once kidnapped Santa Claus.  Thankfully Chuck Norris freed him, can't remember if that was Delta Force 2 or 3.

Contrast this with the hard working, salt-of-the-Earth folks in Burnsville, and the right way to root should be pretty obvious.  South of the river is where the Real America starts, sure a lot of us only have two-car garages and neither side holds a Lexus, but we're a simple and honest folk who would give you the shirt off our back...you know, provided it wasn't below freezing.  Edina is the land of boutiques, gallerias and restaurants named Salut, all centered around (wait for it) France Avenue.  Can't make it up.  Your high school nickname is the Hornets?  Might as well be the Frogs.  Bloomington is the buffer between us, the front lines if you will, and what do you find intersecting France as soon as you cross over 494 from Edina?  That's right, AMERICAN BOULEVARD!  USA! USA! USA!

Edina kids are like those silver spoon pricks from Harvard or Yale who end up being your boss.  Matter of fact, if your boss is a prick, he's probably from Edina.  If he's not, then he probably grew up there, but moved away when his trust fund got pulled for not being snooty enough.  Their hockey team is full of guys with first names like Anders and Marshall and J. Watkins Blowhard III.  I only made one of those up.

Order a vodka tonic in an Edina bar, they'll put a parasol in it, order a Budweiser and they'll ask you to leave.  Sure they may have the pedigree, but we've got the toughness and determination, the Braves (still protesting the name change from Braves 15 years ago) are due!  I watched them play in this same semifinal, at the same arena, 3 years ago, and it went to OT before the bad guys won.  It's time for history to turn in the other direction and send the black-and-gold on their way to St. Paul!

Was trying to come up with a sign idea for a game, it's not going so well.  The first few rejects:

The South (Suburban Conference) shall rise again!

The Blaze are flaming!

It Burns when we PP

Your players may be Hornets, but your cheerleaders are Hors

Tell your cougar of a mom to quit calling me, what happens at Redstone stays at Redstone

Yes, Edina fan, I spit in the sandwich I served you for lunch.  Don't ask what was in the soup

Wish me luck, game time is 6:00.  BURNS-VILLE! BURNS-VILLE! (clap clap clap-clap-clap)

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