Friday night letter to the Wild boys

Dear Wild,

I don't get to see you as much as I used to. I've been busy keeping tabs on your little brother, playing my own games, and mentally fondling goalies all around North America. These things keep me busy.

Also, you haven't been very good for a while. Like, more than a year. So, you haven't exactly given me cause to miss you.

But occasionally I find a night like tonight where the Aeros aren't playing, I don't have a game, I don't have any other plans, I have sole control of the TV, and you're playing.

What's more, one of the kids is making his NHL debut and for me, those games are like watching a mother bird push its baby out of the nest for the first time. Fly, Scando, fly!

So tonight, it's you, me, a team with fucking PALM TREES on their sleeves, and maybe some pizza. And we're gonna do this thing. We're gonna get the W because you just can't give me another season like you gave me last year. You're better than that and you know it.

Cam Barker, I'd share my pizza with you because, god willing, you'll be in a suit for this game. But I don't like you, so you can make your own damn pizza.

Let's do this thing. Here's my side of the deal: I will draw an awesome picture of boobies for you if you will get me the win tonight. Really nice ones, too.

Deal? Deal.

Love (kinda),

Ms.C