There's a space right below Jenny Ross's left elbow which is the perfect place for a statement of personal hope. Poignant, yes, but strictly wishful thinking for a slightly longer winter watching hockey at The Pope... And a demeaning stare as we spoke. You see I've got doubt which echoes out like church bells from a tv set to my inner ear into my brain. But, it's like I'm speaking a buried language through six feet of earth and dirt out my mouth and back again. Terrible reception congesting inspiration; Can I buy a buy a v_wel and kick the _o__o_a___ right out? Color commentary, confirming the worst of fears. Driving back to Green Street looking forward to next year.