Just Let the Kings Fans Have Their Damn Moment

Last year, when the Boston Bruins won the Stanley Cup, I got to experience a portion of it.  I’m – obviously – not a player.  I’m just a fan, in a city full of fans.  Of good people who put a large amount of themselves into the way they watch sports.  I used to let my moods be dictated by how well the Bruins were doing. 

I think the Win (hey, writing it that way is a good shorthand for “this is important”!) brought out some of the very best traits of this city.

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>The Single Most Effective Ad of All Time

>The Desk is thoroughly entrenched in baseball at the moment but here I’d like to go on a brief tangent real quick.

I get a fair amount of my information and sources from print.  The Boston Globe is an invaluable resource, as is that tried and true favorite, Sports Illustrated.  I’m also a big fan of ESPN: The Magazine and this morning, I pick up a fresh copy at the drug store on my way to work.

About halfway through, I see – no, that language is not strong enough, let me try again.  

About halway through, I experience – no, shit, still not good enough.

About halfway through, my life as I know is changed forever, for the better (there it is) when I was subjected to the following image, presented as a full page ad:

The only reason I have yet to break out into a marathon session of applause is I’m not quite sure who deserves it most.  Is it Gretzky?  Or is it the goddamn brilliant Mad Man who was given the task of selling a Breitling watch and somehow came up with this because that guy’s balls are denser than our sun.
Does Wayne Gretzky fly planes now?  I have no idea.  Does he always dress like a big game hunter from the 1940’s?  I’d like to think so, but I really just don’t know. 

What I do know is that, thanks to the power of his Breitling, whether he knows how to fly or not, Gretzky will crawl into that bird, crash land somewhere in British Columbia, and start some shit with the first bear he meets or else punt a wolverine for looking at him funny.

Imagine that shit: Gretzky dropping a wolverine from chest high right at the zenith of his right leg’s trajectory – the thing going flying off into the horizon with a squeal — “OHHH!  YOU JUST GOT ROLLED ON, YOU FURRY LITTLE BITCH!  THE TIME IS 11:45!”

I bought my present watch over a year ago at a drug store for six dollars, the most accurate watch I’ve ever had and yet, they could mention in not-so-fine print that Breitling watches are known to cause fatal dick cancer and I’d still want one of these things. 

Look at it yet again. 
This ad… is straight up eye-fucking you.
And you know what?  You want it to.  You want it to fuck you in the eyes.


“Oh and once we’re high enough, that is exactly what I am going to do.”