So here we are. I need to pontificate patience to the Sabres Mafia and to my family as we all navigate a void. You can hear the waves hit the hull of the Sullivan. Key Bank Center, Marine Midland Arena, Crossroads (I wish it stayed), whatever you want to call it. Corporations pay, and the name changes as it may. Roosevelt gave us the New Deal and Memorial Auditorium. It had a name and kept it. We as fans, and as human beings don’t care, and they plow through presumption that it will make a difference. They simply don’t get it. We don’t switch our allegiances because of advertising. Michael Jackson lit his hair on fire for a beverage. It’s still my favorite because it was my mothers’ go to. That is what I was taught. I am not going to change to the competitor because if they tell me to drink it, I am going to have a smile. I am bitter because inconsequence is raining on me. We all need to take a breath and convolute the noise. It is real physical interaction with people that makes a difference. Thanks to all the heart felt messages as to what my family has encountered in the past two weeks. At our core we are all compassionate when it matters.
What a strange world we live in.
The silence in reference to our team is prevalent. The water, the wind, the music. The beautiful souls trying to find themselves at a fitness group in the morning when I am trying to find a way to sleep. What we perceive ourselves to be and how we convey what constitutes being human is omnipresent, but so diverse. Everyone has a different path as to what it takes. We are all in this together.
The noiselessness I am speaking of is coming from Seymour H. Knox III Plaza. No need to speculate, something has to break before the season starts that proceeds anything significant to talk about. Seeing Krusty the Clown eating strawberries at Wimbledon on a Simpsons rerun is better than Homie the Clown regurgitating the same nonsense. I would go into a corner with you any day, and I guarantee that wig would come off with my teammates backing me up.
We are going to get answers and they will be skated out when the Sabres are ready. We all could do the general managers job but we just didn’t put in the time to deserve it. It wasn’t our path. Throw wax beer cups from section seven at the Aud. You are just like everybody else. Hold your cup of righteousness. We want a different trophy. Elevator, elevator, we got the shaft. At least I got to see my team shoot twice. To my grandparents who made me wear a blazer because we were a member of the club and I needed my pasta. To Zipper, and the guy who used to do the gorilla call. The orange section was a privilege. There will be, and have been, more memories. We are a hockey town. It is going to endure.
I am trying to find faith in these extremely, personal, difficult times. Our organization however will figure it out easily. We are on the precipice.
I have laced them up with Kevyn and his father regardless of them realizing it. My former employee gave me the opportunity to play shinny with Gilbert and Rico. I believe it is all for a reason. We are going to be back on top. They will make our city proud.
Rico could sign Roberts’ name perfectly as he showed us in his full Sabres blues. It was the refs’ locker room, but I was sitting next to number eleven. Very thankful. Life passes you by.
We have to liven things up and I promise that from here on forward nothing but what is ahead. We are blessed to be in a situation where things are going to change for the better. We are ready to witness some amazing hockey. Our coach has what it takes. An underdog given the chance that has proven himself every step of the way. Faith… It is going happen. Sabretooth is going to have to go into hiding. His popularity is going to shoot through the roof, even though he descends from it pumping his paws.
Back to the tagline and my gift until next time. I hope I have something to write about soon.
For those of us who are old enough to have seen it, one of the top ten players of all time is undoubtably Gilbert Perreault. My favorite player in the history of the game, and the reason nobody in the seventies or eighties growing up in Buffalo could have his number unless they were the best. The speed, the moves, the skill. With modern day equipment I am frightened to see the parallel. McDavid would be challenged. In person he is huge in body and spirit. A kind gentleman who never made the big bucks compared to the salaries today. Gracious the handful of times I met him. He is our foundation, sometimes it is just a spin of wheel.
Cheers to you Gilbert. Nobody does it better. I tried to find the clip from the intermission of the All Star Game broadcast in Buffalo but couldn't find it. In 1978 the Wales Conference beat the Campbell Conference 3-2
Richard Martin scores the tying goal at 18:21 of the third period.
Bert scores the winning goal with 1:05 left in overtime.
This is a great tribute nonetheless -
Moving forward it will be about our favorite team and this unbelievable sport. I will try and be present as the season unfolds.
Thanks to all that reached out and gave me positive support on my writing.
Thanks for the prayers to the beautiful soul that was lost.
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