I have been a Devils fan since that heartbreaking, character-building Eastern Conference finals loss to Mark Messier's dirty blueshirts in 94. Since that time, I have amassed a collection of memorabilia ranging from banners, cards, sweaters, t-shirts, hats, a trash can, license plates, pennants, pucks, pins, pint glasses, and championship DVDs. But one prized possession has eluded me all these years and has not only adversely affected the appearance of devotion to my team but my very manhood itself. Now, thanks to my generous, wonderful cousins in Toronto, I can don the red robes of Satan and join Devils nation in unholy worship. And I shall sacrifice an infant farm animal to ensure that we sign this for fourteen years right next to #17.
Step into the rain: secondrain.blogspot.com