So I finally got off my ass and gave Sam something other than a "Top 10" piece. This ran in Susnday's Committed Indian, so if you already got it, go back to surfing porn. For the rest of you, here you go...


Pretty much from the second John Scott turned Kevin Westgarth’s face into what resembled a plate of three-day-old linguini, the “purists” have once again started with their damn bloviating about “fighting ruining the game”. I’d debate the merits and demerits of this argument, but I believe a throat punch would be more effective.

Look, as much as anyone wants to talk about “old time hockey”, the fact is that there has always been a time when less-than-gentlemanly play was around. Eddie Shore damn near killed Ace Bailey with a cross-check from behind. This was after Shore almost lost an ear, courtesy of Billy Coutu.

The Hawks have always had guys who made their place in this league with their fists. Take a look in the rafters – you think Keith Magnuson’s number 3 is up there for winning Norris Trophies? No, he dropped the gloves in defense of his teammates. That banner is up there in honor of a guy who is still beloved for sacrificing his own well-being for his fellow Blackhawks.

I’m not going to sit here and blow smoke up your ass about the Scott, the Murdersaurus. He has yet to come to the aid of a teammate. Every fight he’s been in as a Blackhawk has been after a Hawks’ goal, pretty much someone trying to shift momentum. Would I love to see him make someone pay the price for going in on Patrick Kane? You bet your ass I would.

Hopefully, that will come, and it will come soon. In the meantime, the reason we’re here in the United Center tonight is because we like hockey. Why do we like it? Because it’s exciting and entertaining. Anyone notice how quickly the transition from “That bum Scott” to United Center favorite “Murdersaurus” was? About three punches.

Whatever the pacifistic types want to believe, here’s the one stone-cold irrefutable fact. There are two times between the National Anthem and the final horn when every seat in any hockey arena are empty. Goals and fights. We love them. Hockey is the only sport with anything like the Lady Byng Trophy, for gentlemanly play. Why? Because it’s so rare in this sport. This is a game for badasses. If you’re looking for kinder and gentler, I can direct you to the nearest Arthur Murray. Although, they’re hockey fans there, too.

Hell, in this very publication, there’s always a “Fight Card”. Don’t tell me you didn’t make sure that both Tim Jackman and Murdersaurus dressed tonight, and you are looking forward to seeing them go.

God knows the refs weren’t cheered for their restraint when they sent Murdersaurus and Cam Janssen off for “unsportsmanlike” when under 3 minutes left in Tuesday’s Blues game. Why they decided that three fights were unacceptable, yet 4 are bad. Especially when we had 2 very willing combatants. And we all wanted to see Janssen get his ass good and kicked.

Get the old-timers together, and after they tell their drinking stories, they’ll immediately segue into stories about the scrapes they were in. In fact, there is nothing you can possibly encounter that is more full of hockey awesomeness than hearing Bobby Hull talk about how much he still hates Bugsy Watson. Hull will tell you, “I would not urinate in his ear if his brain were on fire.”

This is a man’s game. Things happen fast on the ice, and not everything is seen all the time. Tempers will heat up, and gloves will drop. Unless it’s involving a known jagoff like Sean Avery, saying he doesn’t want to go before jumping Ladislav Smid, it’s all part of the game. Hell, I think Murdersaurus should just go to New York and pummel Avery on general principle. Grab me some ribs from Dinosaur BBQ on the way back, willya?

So tonight, if Murdersaurus drops his gloves, and everyone jumps up, I’d tell you to look around to see who is sitting down or looking away, but I wouldn’t want you to miss the action.

Besides, nobody’s asking why the Hawks have John Scott anymore.