You know, the easy way isn't always the best way.
The Maple Leafs could have won more than once in their first, oh, 50 or so games.
But that would have been easy. That would not have sparked the intense interest in what will be a season-long campaign to try to win a playoff spot.
As you know far better than I, it's that way with decade-ending poetry. Oh, you could write on parchment and quill or with chisel on granite, but what would be the challenge in that?
This has nothing to do with a hideous, corrupt, soul-destroying computer that has made me pine for the days when I could communicate with other people through two tin cans and a string.
I was planning to write the following poem on my BlackBerry. The rest of it is pure conjecture.
The Leafs and Titanic were not the same
They differed on when the iceberg came
But unlike that ancient, famous vessel
The boat had no one named Phil Kessel
But what a season, what a start
Enough to rattle a goalie's heart
And it won't be fun, it's true I fear
That Rask may star for 15 years
But a youngish core is taking shape
For those not minding a little wait
With Kadri and others you can't deny
That things will improve with a little time
And with a D that's big and tough
You should expect it good and rough
But the best hint of a golden time
Is the state of the man in front of the twine
So get back to me 12 months' hence
For dancing vowels and consonents
And another season set to verse
With a keyboard that is built for smurfs.