It would have been stupid to take a week or two off from the blog during the playoffs, so I waited until there were no more Habs of which to speak. Suddenly everything was very quiet. I even started to miss the scalpers on Avenue-des-Canadiens... yes, the scalpers. That's how bad it got. Heck, I even joined Twitter when I was supposed to be on a break - that, kids, is what we call "taking a page out of the Mike Cammalleri playbook."
I pretty much jumped at the first chances I got to do anything Habs-related: I stared in awe at game-used sticks and equipment at the end-of-season Habs Zone sale. I picked up some merch for myself. I laughed at the teenager and his mom who stared at skates, bewildered: "How are you supposed to know which ones are your size?" I combed my house for exact change for the South Shore buses on the first two days of development camp.
By the way, how does a development camp differ from a scouting combine?
So I hopped on the 90 bus, for the first time since last July, when I spent most of my bus ride on the phone, getting hired for my first real grownup job (which, despite the economy, I fortunately still have and love). But that's a story for another day.
It's a pretty nice bus ride, compared to the loud, hot, smelly, jerky STM buses
You'd think it had been months since there was live hockey in Montreal. ~czechtacular and I dressed for the occasion, chose our seats, and settled in, preparing for an afternoon with no cell reception or WiFi.
Best seats in the house
Considering that my knowledge of each of these prospects is somewhat limited, I spent most of my afternoons watching the drills as a form of hockey catharsis, having snacks, and snapping endless pictures of Kirk Muller. I don't know why.
ok, maybe I do know why. Who doesn't love Kirk?
We even had a Guy Boucher sighting despite reports that he'd miss camp on Tuesday due to "family matters." And by now, we've figured out that these family matters were in Ohio and that Rick Nash was probably Steve Urkel.
Boucher, pictured here with a pink-shirted Jacques Martin and an unidentified bald man
Kids, there's nothing like spending a hot summer day inside a cold arena and finding every opportunity to make a pun on "Hunter Bishop." And, to be honest, Tanner House too. You very narrowly escaped seeing a picture of House captioned "It's not lupus." (But maybe sometime in the future.)
It's good to be back.