Chronic Negress

This is not any sort of anti-Catholic screed but the odd coincidence of my beloved Devil exiting the playoffs at the hands of the hated, despicable and skeevy Rangers and the arrival of the Pontiff on these shores did not go unnoticed. Think about it. The Pontiff greets and celebrates Mass with many of the faithful. The Devils faithful hoped to celebrate but their prayers went unanswered. The Pope got to hang out with our President. Martin Brodeur spent a lot of time hanging out with Sean Avery. I suspect both couplings were not consensual.

In the meantime, I nurse a longstanding grudge against the Broadway Blueshirts. I fear for my team’s future in the way that many Catholics may respect the Pope but wonder where the church is headed. Some may say Catholicism is at odds with modern life. I say Lou Lamoriello is at odds with the NHL salary cap.

For those who might view these comparisons as blasphemous, let me say my faith in hockey is the same as Barbara Jordan’s faith in the Constitution — complete and bone deep. I have deep faith in my religion, the Catholic lite of Episcopalian life. At this point I will confess to the sin of believing in my Devils more than I do my church. May the peace of the offseason, which does pass all understanding, be with you all. I will pray for a big, smart defenseman and a sniper on offense. Come Pentecost, may those prayers be answered.