Why Jumbo Needs to Surf More

Following in the strange tradition of naming your beloved sports team after local, catastrophic natural disasters, here come the Carolina Hurricanes to HP Pavilion.  The San Jose Sharks will be looking to cleanse their palate after a lackluster effort last Saturday night versus the Thrashers, and should get the chance against arguably one the NHL’s worst offenses.

Carolina had their own league-mandated European vacation, playing two tilts in Helsinki to open the regular season and actually looking competent, with special mention to the solid play of goalie Cam Ward.  Unfortunately, back in North America, the Hurricanes find themselves quickly reverting to the mean with back-to-back losses.  Their most recent defeat in Vancouver last Sunday night was a particularly dreadful 5-1 pounding at the hands of the Canucks, their Wonder Twins and a couple of guys named Ehrhoff and Malhotra.  With a little help, Joe Thornton and crew should be able to prolong their West Coast misery at least one more day.

Jumbo is a new husband, father and avid surfer and has hopefully had a chance to get back in the water to get over that Atlanta loss.  I’m getting convinced that our fortunes may rest with Jumbo’s ability to up his surfing days and get right with nature.  Look, I was born and raised in the Bay Area, and though I never really surfed myself (mostly due to an inordinate fear of very different kind of shark), I knew a few surfers.  You keep those guys away from the Pacific Ocean for more than 18 hours and you had a neurotic mess on your hands.  In our case, mix in nightly cross checks and dirty diaper duty for the man standing as heart and soul of the San Jose Sharks, and you might have a serious, friggin’ situation on your hands if left ignored.

So, please get back in the water Joe.  I heard you on with Pierre LeBrun lamenting the fact that surfing is out the window now with your new domestic responsibilities.  Respectfully, I think you need to push back a little.  Sure…I know, easy for me to say, but $21 million bucks can snag you a decent nanny for crying out loud, giving your wife a hand with the kid and you freedom to grab that Lost six six and scoot over Highway 17 every now and again.