Ode to Nicklas Backstrom

The puck hit the side bar
He started screaming profanities
The next shot went to the left, too far
The coach, he is so hard to please

I get so angry at the score
One punch, I feel, would suffice
There he lay on the floor
Sidney Crosby had fallen to the ice

The crowd roared
Some good, some bad
No blood poured
From the Golden Boy's head

The ice was mush
It was hard to skate
It was such a rush
To win the game, was our fate.