Making It Up As I Go Along #362

TUESDAY...
— Supposed to work today. Feeling pretty lousy though so it’s a sick day. A head cold... lots of sneezing and eyes watering and nose running and a sore throat. I go out for groceries (simply because when you run out of milk and orange juice you have no other choice) and just doing that breaks me into a sweat.

WEDNESDAY...
— Sick day number two. The nose improves but the hot and cold flashes are everywhere and my sinuses don’t think much of me most of today.
— Get my first “Chris Brown” crank call today. Stupid teenager calls me blathering on about Rihanna and the fact that I’m the rapper, by the same name, who beat her up. Times like this, I guess I would have been better off being called Charlie. Bottom line... there are a whole lot of stupid people out there.

THURSDAY...
— Off again. Wednesday night, I thought I’d be okay for tonight at work... but I woke feeling worse than I was before bed, and venturing out to get the recycling box from the parking lot was enough to break me into a sweat. It’s getting annoying.

FRIDAY...
— Finally back to work. And I get through alright. It’s a pretty busy night but works out pretty good anyway. I get home to a bit of a silly letter from the condo people and need to look into my condo fee deductions. I’m not thinking much of these people in their methods. A phone call Monday seems to be needed.

SATURDAY...
— Quiet day. I sleep until about 11:30... snooze some more between noon and 2:30 (in and out)... and remain tired while around the house the rest of the day. The cold is gone anyway, just tired.
— Montreal Canadiens are falling apart. Horrible to watch them play the Leafs tonight... just horrible.

SUNDAY...
— The streak is over! We win at softball. 12-10. First win in the winter league and, when including the fall league, it’s likely the first win in about fifteen games. Finally.

MONDAY...
— The TV is in. Up on the wall and working fine and dandy. Watch a movie (10,000 BC is not a good movie but looks impressive in HD), a hockey game (Philly and New Jersey), and the best baseball game I’ve seen in years. Korea vs. Japan in the final of the World Baseball Classic. 5-3 Japan winning in ten innings.


Please No... Please Please NO.

Rumours have surfaced of the sale of the Montreal Canadiens. American George Gillett has been a reasonable owner. I remember when he came to Montreal, there were doomsday predictors saying he’d move the club to Vegas or some other American market. Such rumours were silly and never came to pass.

But now, the sale of the team has started up the rumour mill again. Jim Balsillie would be an acceptable new owner. I’d rather not see him there simply because I’d like to see him drag one of those rediculous American teams back to a good Canadian market.

It’s the name of another potential owner that rocked me to the core. Could we possibly see... the next owner of the Montreal Canadiens... As Celine Dion?

I honestly don’t know if I could cheer for a Celine run team. Maybe if she’s a quiet, out of the way owner, I could deal with her. But if she puts her stamp on the team, it may be too much.

And let’s face it, Celine Dion is hardly a quiet, out of the way type of person. She would probably believe herself to be an integral part of the team. Donning a jersey with her name on back... going into the dressing room with great confident strides, stopping abruptly in front of each stall, giving every bewildered player an energetic thumbs up and wink.

Pump up music prior to each faceoff would be Celine. My Heart Will Go On... Over, and over, and over again. She’ll just remix it several times. When it’s late in the game and the excitement is brewing, it’ll be a fast paced version with lots of yelps and shrieks by the Quebec Diva. When it’s the pre game player introduction, a haunting, slow paced version will accompany the historical video on the big screen before a wired up Celine flies across the stadium rafters, singing to the top of her lungs as players leap out onto the ice.

It will be contractually agreed that for every televised Hab game, Celine will pre-empt Don Cherry at the first intermission. Ron McLean’s puns will fly over her head as she’ll speak with passion about being the Messiah of Montreal... Celine Dion, a hero for purchasing the greatest hockey team the world has ever seen. She’ll proclaim this herself... with great conviction... and a wink with a half smile. Cherry will be standing behind the cameraman... bewildered... before storming out of the studio bellowing “This isn’t hockey!” He’s never seen again.

Celine’s husband will become the new General Manager. He has no experience in hockey but Celine will proclaim it to be so, and Bob Gainey will wander off, shaking his head... slowly.

Rene’s attempts at trades will be laughed at by other GM’s across the league. Offers such as “you give me Sidney Crosby and we’ll arrange a Celine concert in Pittsburgh” will somehow not gain acceptance.

The Bell Centre will be renamed... La Centre Celine.

The “H” in the Canadien’s jersey crest will be replaced by a winking, half smiling Celine face.

The “C” will no longer stand for “Canadiens”. The club will hereby be known as the Montreal Celines.

And a Stanley Cup victory will see the trophy not presented to Saku Koivu but to Celine herself. She’ll be there, dancing as she towers over Gary Bettman, pumping her arms and singing “I Am the Champion!” at the top of her lungs. The players will have previously been escorted off the ice... there will be no room for players in the Stanley Cup celebration of Celine.

Yes, I’m afraid for the Montreal Canadiens. There was once before a dark time, when Patrick Roy was run out of town, Pierre Turgeon was the team’s captain, and Mario Tremblay and Rejean Houle ran the club. I couldn’t cheer for such a misguided team then... I fear I may have to turn away from my team once again.

Because of Celine Dion comes to town, mine will be one heart... that will NOT... go on.