It appears in recent days the ire of the Dallas Stars community has, for once, not been directed at Sean Avery, Dustin Brown or even that rapscallion, Gary Bettman (say what?). No, in fact it appears the Sauron's Eye if you will has well and truly been pointed at Schwarzenegger-Land. In particular the poor inhabitants of that fishing village San Jose have had a good portion of Lone Star state mud slinging directed at them. Fortunately for these hapless souls there is a rather large shark in the way, the last of his kind and regretably quite lonely, the formidable "Big Mighty Tooth" (in Greek): Megalodon.
Now it goes without saying that perhaps this rather large specimen of the underwater world has had it rough. Depending upon which atheists you believe the Megalodon was meant to have become extinct almost 1.5 million years ago, which means in effect our fin clad nemesis has not been laid in a very, very long time. So whilst General Lee was getting his arse handed to him at Gettysburg (apologies to the Gone With The Wind fans) the big guy was getting absolutely nothing. Not even the Pacific "Ladies of the Night", the Sperm Whales, were giving him anything. As a fellow man you have got to feel sorry for the bloke. Let's think of some famous examples. There's Napoleon stuck on Elba so he invaded Europe for that one last hurrah. Darth Vader was confined in a robotic suit so he blew up a planet. And then there's Brandon Worley, stuck on his Oil Rig with nothing to do but lubricate the drill shaft.
Fast forward to 1991 and Carcharodon Megalodon catches wind of an ice hockey team being conveniently placed nearby to his usual hunting grounds. At last, instead of humping the Titanic he had something to live for. No longer was he alone in the world. No longer would he be ridiculed by the Star(s!) Fish for being a social abnormality. He could live a life with purpose, dignity, honour, integrity and of course,
Just like the feeling Mrs. Megalodon had 1.5 million years ago when she saw the Miller Lite Limper (seriously fellas drink some proper beer) Megalodon's time as a Sharks' fan has been filled with the ultimate pre-show high of winning the President's Trophy for trying too hard in the regular season and crashing out in the playoffs. For a man with so much pent up testosterone he had to find a way to unleash it. Hence he joined the Battle of California.
Now there's an anology of how I'd like to describe the Sharks. They are like the French. You see they have this large tower, nice archway things, nice food and with every small victory they like to make a song and dance about it. Perfect, no one cares you've won the Pacific again. So how does BoC come in to this you ask? Ahh you see, in
1941 1939 there was a war. In that war there were 3 main Western Allies, The Yanks, The Brits and of course, The French. Of course the Brits are like the Kings, we've been here since the start of this war (more or less, Poland could easily be mistaken for Detroit) and we've finally managed to win the World Title after all these years. The Yanks are the Ducks, newcomers to the game and have won the trophy in half the time of the Kings, bringing some scorn and general bigotry along the way. Now then, there are The French. Essentially they lost the war, but hey look the Allies (who we deep down hate) won! What happens next? Huge song and dance about California winning!
But of course, just like The French, The Sharks have never held the ultimate prize. They have been early fallers just like Erin after one shot of Vodka (she is a girl after all). Unfortunately for Megalodon he has always had to ride the bandwagon of his fellow Californian teams and saved embarrasment by his regional allies.
So what next you say? Why sir, you have made a mockery of him and the rest of his Shark friends? Fear not kind sirs, for this is where the Dallas Stars community can help. If we compare the Sharks to the French, then I know you can, deep down in your heart (past the Confederate Flag, Seccession from the Union, Down with Obama nonesense) because you all love Antoine Roussell. Yes, even this Englishman loves a Frenchman. Miracles do happen. A Stars fan can love a Sharks Fan. Brandon Worley did indeed escape from his Oil Rig.
Whilst the beast of the far far far East (if you keep going you'll eventually get to San Jose) appears quite a rowdy fellow, one that you would not provoke in fear of your own life, deep down Megalodon is just like any Sharks fan. He is sensitive. He has had some highs in life followed by crushing, stake-through-the-heart lows (that North Texas Cowgirl was his only hope of keeping his race alive). Whilst we often mock them at having never had a Stanley Cup, never having won the Stanley Cup and of course, never being able to convert that President's Trophy into a Stanley Cup we have to as a group feel remorse and compassion for our fellow hockey fans, particularly for those who have chosen the wrong team to
bandwagon follow. Whilst Brenden Morrow did indeed knock them out of the playoffs in 2008 we have to remember our futile series against the Canucks in 2007. Whilst both teams have had legends such as Mike Modano and Patrick Marleau, we have both had to suffer players unable to fulfil their potential in Jonathan Cheechoo and Fabian Brunnstrom. We have to, as a group, for this lonely fan base, for this heart broken 1.5 million year old biological anomaly give a huge hockey hug to the San Jose Sharks.
You see, the way to love a Sharks fan is not to ridicule them. Its not to give them a long list of numerical statistics, none of you would know what any of that means until you start
University College. Its not to tell them how kick ass Scott Glennie is, or how Logan Couture looks like a buck-toothed Chipmunk who had a piano dropped on his head when he was 5. No, it is to feel sorry for them, it is to bring them into our Church of love, affection, and compassion (and take all their money with signing on fees and donations for the Bishop to take the small boys away to a camp site south of the Alamo...). We have seen the light. We have seen that hallowed place in the sky. We have heard that wonderful, heavenly sound of
"THE STARS WIN THE STANLEY CUP, THE STARS WIN THE STANLEY CUP"
That one day is promised to those poor Sharks fans. They are our friends. Our brothers. Megalodon will one day have a wife. Kids perhaps. He will be happy. Everytime he appears on our threads, give him "cuddles", for it will help him in the salvation of his soul. He will one day pull through just like all other Sharks fans. He will one day reach Nirvana. But until then