Clearly a crime was committed
Several million of my friends and I just witnessed a robbery.
Some things are important only in the moment, and a few minutes ago Sidney Crosby did exactly what every Canadian kid has been trained to do. That old couplet: “He shoots, he scores”. No doubt in my mind, because I wasn’t distracted by anything else; the puck crossed that magic line and was then yanked back out by a guy pretending to be a goalie. The damage was already done; he’d let the puck into the net, and then he removed it. Distinct breach in etiquette as well as a clear case of goal theft.
Since the referees don’t actually watch what’s going on, they prevaricated. Maybe he did, maybe he didn’t. Come on guys, this isn’t supposed to be an announcement for hair colouring. Of course the multiple cameras (shades of downtown London) captured the crime, but with enough angles the referees continued to ignore the obvious truth. Final verdict; unable to decide without doubt that Sidney had done the right thing. I hope those guys have trouble sleeping tonight.
No, I don’t really care, but since the national TV system belongs to the NHL for the next few weeks I might as well join with my neighbours in complaining about the quality of the judging. If I was there, I would have been able to decide.
On other fronts, I learned this evening that Facebook lets me “chat”. I’ve never done that before. I figured that “The Wall” was revolutionary. I believed that my dedicated email address with hundreds of tiny messages was progressive. Now I have to wrap my brain around the idea of live one-on-one communication. It came as a surprise to learn that my cousin remembered a portable tape player I owned back when my hair was still uniform in colour. And that I’d used distraction to mask the origins of my ownership. The past does live on, with the ability to surprise me.
