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Bruins Never Leave Home Without…

May 21, 2010

Yesterday, ESPN posted a story about what athletes bring when they go on the road. Some were humorous. Some were dumb. Mostly, they were dumb.

But it got us thinking. What do the Bruins bring with them when they’re on the road? Xbox? Big League Chew? Penicillin if they’re going to Philly? Autographed copies of their ESPN nude spreads?

The Bruins have a lot of different personalities, players from different cultures. So we sent Patrice Purr-geron into the field to get the scoop on what some of your favorite Bruins just can’t leave home without.

After the jump, Mr. Purr-geron’s report:

Thanks guys. As I strolled the Bruins locker room on break-up day, I decided it was a bad idea to mention I’ve put out better efforts in my litter box than the Bruins did in periods 2 and 3 of Game 7. Instead, I decided to inquire about what they absolutely won’t leave home without when they travel during the season. Some of their responses were interesting. Some of their responses were disturbing. But all of their tales were interesting.

First, I spoke with Patrice Bergeron.

“I never go on the road without my gold medal,” Bergeron said. “On a team of super stars, I was still picked to kill penalties and take face-offs. But no one even remembers I was there. So I take my medal everywhere to remind them.”

To promote his gold medal, Bergeron has teamed up with Flava Flav for a new reality show where they try to find women who love large neck accessories.

Bergeron is gangsta.

Next we spoke with Steve Beijing Begin as he left GM Chiarelli’s office with a one way ticket out of town and a poorly written thank you note.

“I always bring my  name tag,” Begin told me. “No one ever pronounces my last name correctly. It sucks. So I just point to my name tag when they talk to me. I refuse to respond until they pronounce my name correctly!”

He's not a city in China.

Next up was famed Slovakian dancer, Miroslav Satan.

“I never leave home with my Bible. I was unfortunately born with the devil in me. But I try to repent. I also hold regular church services with Chiarelli and the Jacobs family. Their sins against the Bruins are well documented. I’m just trying to save their souls,” Satan explained.

He's a holy man.

After Satan, I talked to the devious ginger who calls himself Michael Ryder. What he told me made the season make so much more sense.

“Let’s just say I have…. compromising pictures of Coach Julien. How do you think I get so much playing time despite my diminishing talent and skills? Coach benches me, everyone finds out his dirty secrets!”

That bastard!

Terrible. Soon afterward Julien walked in with a butler outfit and handed Ryder a banana cream pie. It is true… gingers don’t have souls.

We thought that was awful. But then Andrew Ference decided he would show us what he brings on the road. Seeing him in tights was almost as awful as seeing him on the ice.

Captain Ference, he's a zero.....

“I love trees man. No really, I LOVE trees. That groin injury stuff? Bullshit. My willy just gets chaffed, if you know what I’m saying,” Ference unfortunately told me. Haunting.

After vomiting and injecting cat nip to forget about what I just heard, I pressed on.

I stumbled upon Tuukka Rask, who was reading “An Idiots Guide to Second Year Goaltending” by Andrew Raycroft. Rask was chucking as he read.

“Ha man, Toronto took him for ME?! Good move Bruins,” Rask said looking amused. I asked him what he likes to bring on the road, other than amusing How to Guides regarding being a goalie.

“Milk crates. Lots of lots of milk crates,” Rask said. “It is frowned upon to hit your team mates. And it is bad for unity and moral. So every time Hunwick or Wideman messes up in front of me, I like to throw some milk crates. I… go through a lot o them.”

He's got anger issues.

Rask’s mentor Thomas was sitting a few stalls over, surrounded by bags of money. I tried to ask him what he likes to bring on the road, but he just pressed play on a recorder as a laugh track played and continued to stare at his money.

money, money money! mooooooooooooney

Blake Wheeler was next on my hit list. Like Rask, he was engrossed in a book. He had an autograph of former Bruin Joe Thornton in his locker and was reading “How to Not Use your Size or Skills Effectively” by “Jumbo” Joe Thornton.

You're 6'5".... throw a freaking check! Go to the front of the net!

“I’m doing exactly what the book says,” Wheeler exclaimed. You sure are Blake, you sure are.

I felt bad for him. I called in some favors. We got him a Dream Card to Foxwoods so there would be at least one slot he could play.

Wheeler is almost useless.

I tried to interview Savard next. He refused to speak with Days of Y’Orr. He mumbled something about “too many men” and “shoving it up your ass.”

The Bruins should be ashamed of themselves.

I found Vladimir Sobotka when I almost stepped on him. The fiesty youngster was nice enough to share a photo with me.

“This is a picture of me and my friends back home. I take it everywhere. We’ve had so many great adventures together. I don’t go anywhere without it,” Sobotka told me. Touching.

Greetings from the Shire.

I found the legendary Shawn Thornton in the training room, brushing up on his fistic skills. I asked him what he doesn’t leave home without. He raised his fists.

“Jack Johnson and Tom O’Leary!,” he exclaimed. “All I need is me and my fists. I’m that awesome.” I couldn’t disagree with him. It was an honor just to be in his presence.

He's got Jack Johnson and Tom O'Leary waiting right here for you.

I then moved on to the injured David Krejci. His broken English was hard to understand, but his emotion was palpable.

“Lately, I’ve been taking this card Bruins fans sent me,” Krejci said as he teared up. “It meant a lot. I wish I could’ve helped my team, but knowing the fans still appreciate me feels good.

Series would've been won if we had Krejci.

Next I tracked down the ageless Mark Recchi. Like Sobotka, he too carried a picture that was near and dear to his heart.

“I don’t go anywhere without my picture of Rex and me playing! He was my first dog. I got him when I was a kid. He loved to be held. He passed away last year. I miss him everyday,” said Recchi. He was nice enough to share the picture with me.

Just kidding Mr. Recchi. We love you.

Daniel Paille was unavailable to talk. He was busy watching highlights of breakaways with some friends in hopes that someday he would actually score on one.

Someday Paille, someday.

Next I came upon a downtrodden Johnny Boychuk. Boychuk was Boston’s best defender in the playoffs. The way the playoffs ended was devastating for Boychuk. He thrives on winning. And destroying lives.

“Well first, I never leave home without my jar of tears. I collect tears from each player I destroy on the ice,” Boychuk gleefully declared. “Second, I carry a case of apology letters. I give these out to the widows of the players that don’t survive after encountering me in the neutral zone. But that guy from Wedding Crashers was right… grieving women put out real quick like!” Boychuk then looked to the sky and began to day dream. I left him alone with his thoughts.

Poor Johnny. Let's give him a hug.

Next up was Milan Lucic.

“This is self explanatory I guess,” said Lucic, sporting mementos of his encounters with Mike Komisarek.

Lucic owns you.

“I keep his balls in a jar. I own him. He’s my bitch. I can’t even begin to explain how fun it is to punch him and watch him cry.” I thanked him for his time and told him we never get tired of it either.

Matt Hunwick showed us his inability to let go, when he showed us the t-shirt he wears under his jersey every game.

No spleen here.

I wanted to talk to Mark Stuart, but I didn’t want to get infected. I’m a germ freak. I know that’s weird coming from a guy that shits in sand and buries it, but who cares.

I called to him from across the room and asked him what he brings on the road. He simply replied “I bring the pain.” He and Johnny Boychuk then did a fist bump.

He hurts thems good.

Next up was Dennis Seidenberg. He hasn’t been with the Bruins long and may not be back, but we asked him anyway.

“Well, since Ference got that contract he got, I carry around my ‘Peter Chiarelli Overpayment Calculator’ everywhere. Even on the ice. Every time I make a hit, take a shot, anything really… I add to it like Peter would, ” Seidenberg explained.

“Right now, I’m at about $17 million a year based on Peter’s value scale. I’m about to gets paid, ho!”

We'll miss you.

Unfortunately I ran into Zdeno Chara next. I say unfortunately because I had finally removed the horrid image of his nude body out of my head. Then I made the mistake of asking him what he takes on the road.

We're still terrified.

“I take photo on road. My body is machine!,” Chara told me. “Look at this perfection. I give out copies to fans in other cities. Everyone love nude Chara. Nude Chara for President!”

Too bad you’re from another country Mr. Chara. That is a dream that will never be realized. But you can be governor of California.

I then came upon a sobbing Dennis Wideman. He had his nose in a book. It was clear what he brings on the road.

“I read a lot of self help books,” he told me with a sigh. “I just keep telling myself I’m worth, I’m worth it. Bruins fans are just so mean. So I sucked for 81 out of 82 games this year? Maybe I’m over paid. But so what? I’m still a person!”

His mom thinks he's cool.

I was tempted to slap him, but I walked away. Have to maintain journalistic integrity. That is how Eklund would want it!

The last player left in the locker room was the injured Marco Sturm. He was upset that his season ended early, but I reminded him that he had basically been useless in the playoffs. He didn’t find me amusing. I changed the subject to the topic of what he brings on the road.

“Well dick, I don’t really bring anything. I just request my hotel room has a large mirror. I like to practice the famous Sturm Face!,” he politely replied.

The Sturm Face

After I said my goodbyes to the players, I took a trip upstairs to the Bruins offices.

I stopped by Jeremy Jacobs office, but he was swimming and we didn’t have time to talk.

Life is like a hurricane here in Duckburg.

I tried to speak to Julien, but he said he “volunteered” to wash and wax Michael Ryder’s car. He dropped a line-up for next season. Ryder was the first line wing. My heart sank. Damn you Ryder.

Get it together Julien.

For my last stop, I dropped by Chiarelli’s office. As is custom with Peter Chiarelli this year when you point out team deficiencies, he was standoffish.

“I can’t believe Seidenberg told you about my calculator!!! Friggin’ douche. But hey, let me get your opinion. I was thinking of giving Wheeler 6 years, $47 million! What do you think!”

Somebody stop him.

I was suddenly filled with rage. I struck him about the face and head. As I looked down about his unconscious body, I decided it was time to end my trip and go home.

Beat man Patrice Purr-geron.

So my trip ended. I learned a lot bout the players and their habits on the road, and have a warrant out for my arrest. Something about assault. I now need therapy. This is Patrice Purr-geron signing off from the Days of Y’Orr headquarters. Until next time.

4 Comments leave one →
  1. Rupam Som permalink
    May 21, 2010 6:15 pm

    I LOL’ed a ton reading this. Good work as usual!

    • Days of Y'Orr permalink
      May 21, 2010 7:28 pm

      Thank you good sir. We try!

    • May 21, 2010 8:01 pm

      I hope I never have to search for “Chara nude” ever again.


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