Thursday Morning Cupcheck - The Ten Commandments of Hockey

There were eleven, but then they decided to just make ten louder.

Good morning, hockey fans! Here's hoping you've recovered from the painful belly laffs generated last night when Calgary's Eric Nystrom stupidly brought a fist to a helmet fight; while Fistric likely violated some sacred rule in slapping Nystrom's coconut with a light piece of plastic, the Stars were the ones who suffered most when their second-best defenseman was given the game misconduct for Attempt to Ironically Injure (can Fistric tear off a visor with his teeth and stab his opponent in the neck next time? Keep tuning in to Stars hockey for the latest in avant garde hockey violence!)

Laugh all you want, Stars fans, but ancient warriors would often use these weapons of choice in close combat

Turning back to the actual game, it looks like head coach Marc Crawford is an avid reader of this hard-to-find, out-of-the-way little hockey column, as he has chosen to ride Alex "Black Stallion" Auld until his bones crumble to dust from th--- waitaminute, did Fistric violate some sacred set-to sanction and cross some unwritten fighting major line? The morning after the "incident", the sports world is seemingly dominated by talk of a one, perhaps even two game suspension. But did Fistric do anything wrong?

For the answer to this, it was time to go straight to the Big Cheese, the Top Banana, the King Kumquat Himself: God. But after decades of prayers going straight to voicemail, I opted to get His attention in other ways, and shot forty illegally-procured roman candles into a hedge laced with PVC in my backyard. Whether the Holy Spirit opened a clear and direct dialogue with the Deity that day, or whether it was the copious amounts of potentially-lethal fumes invading my upper respiratory system, I learned plenty of wisdom that day. The Burning Hedge (or, as It preferred to be called, the Shrubbery en Fuego) gave me a list of the Ten Commandments of Hockey, carved directly into my calf between my two favorite Hannah Montana tattoos. Here is a sample of that wisdom, ye worshipers of the golden hockey calf.

And the bush behind my apartment spoke these words, saying,

Hockey Commandment I: "We are the Lords, your Gods. Thou shalt not have other gods before us."

Ever heard a hockey player thank God --or even Odin?-- after a victory? This is because all hockey players know exactly where their bread is buttered. Bonus theology: ever notice NHL officials never hold press conferences to thank God after a correct call? Connect the dots, sheeple!

Commandment II: "Thou shalt not make for yourself a carved image--any likeness of anything that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth."

Only one player in the entire NHL has his own publicist: Sean Avery. And that guy is an abomination before the hockey gods.

Commandment III: "Thou shalt not take the name of the LORDS your Gods in vain."

I keep finding these things every time I go hiking

Nothing pisses off Crom more than when you invoke His name after slamming your finger in the car door. Or, for that matter, after your apartment burns down to the ground due to a seemingly harmless fire you set in your backyard.

Commandment IV: "Thou shalt remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy."

This one applies mainly to goaltenders rushing through their pre-game rituals on early Saturday afternoon games. Don't wait until the last minute to hit up the farmer's market for those live chickens, red brick powder and coconut rum.

Commandment V: "Thou shalt honor thy ancestors."

Gary Bettman has wantonly disobeyed this rule more often than I've had hot meals. You can fully expect that if he re-names the end-of-the-year trophies from their current cool-sounding names (i.e., "Lady Byng") to pretty much anything else (like the various body parts of Sidney Crosby's anatomy), the earth beneath Bettman's office will rip asunder and Hell will swallow him whole. Which...on second thought... that might not be such a bad thing...

Commandment VI: "Thou shalt not murder."

Most hockey players not named Todd Bertuzzi can safely ignore this archaic formality.

Commandment VII: "Thou shalt not commit adultery."

This one might be a little too difficult for most NHL players to abide by all the time. Rumor has it, there were only nine original Hockey Commandments, and this one was slipped in by Pronger's wife when the gods weren't paying attention. Wait --what's that? Too soon?

Commandment VIII: "Thou shalt not bear false witness."

That's funny, because 'false witness' was my girlfriend's nickname for my genitalia in coll---ah, who am I kidding? I didn't have a girlfriend in college.

Commandment IX: "Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's arse"

Surprising one in this day and age, considering how few hockey players have yet to publicly come out of the closet. Surprising because Sean Avery's broken almost all the other commandments on this list, yet refuses the 'low-hanging fruit' of a relatively easy one like this.

Commandment X: "Thou shalt finish thy checks, work diligently in the corners, crash the crease and avoid drop passes on odd-man breakaways."

Ahhh... the mystical wisdom of the Infinite. Someone ought to write this stuff down.

Well, that's the entire list: no entry for anything remotely resembling Fistric's alleged transgressions: Dallas' young d-stud is in the clear as far as sacred rulebooks are concerned. Tune in next week when I unveil my new book, Hairy-Chested Grit: The Alexei Kovalev Story. The true story of this double-flushing sunuvabitch may surprise you.