If I Were a Hockey Player…

A guy can dream, thanks Zanstorm.

If I Were a Hockey Player…

Team: Vancouver. Secondly I could stomach any of the California teams because it's the best state in the union.

Uniform Number: 31

Position: Goalie

Nickname: To my teammates - Lil bastard, the Miz, Stone Cold. To the other team - 'that fucker' or 'shitbrick'

Dream Linemates: OFFENSE - Thornton (now), Bertuzzi (circa 2002), Pavel Bure (circa mid 90's); DEFENSE: Chara (now) & Phaneuf (now).

Rounding out the PP: PRESENT: Sami Salo and Sergei Gonchar. PAST - Al Iafrate & Al MacInnis.

Job: I’d be noteworthy for being aggressive and cutting down the angles. I would likely employ an unorthodox goaltending style that works, thereby angering narrow minded pundits and frustrating goaltending coaches nationwide. I’d certainly always trash talk every shooter, diligently referencing his family members, wife and children (the latter only in the playoffs)

Signature Move: Making saves while smirking/laughing or flashing the glove for the save while sprawled on my belly.

Strengths: Cat-like reflexes, decent stick handling and uniquely flexible like a high end call girl

Weaknesses: Rebounds a plenty, easily frustrated and likely to take frequent spearing and unsportsmanlike conduct penalties.

Injury Problems: The back, the groin and dangerously lethal blood pressure levels.

Equipment: I’d wear all black if at all possible. And the mask would definitely need to be sinister; think Corey Hirsch with perhaps an upgrade to reference Jigsaw and the Saw movies.

Nemesis: Iginla. Or anyone on Iginla’s line.

Scandal Involvement: Cheating on my wife with someone else in her family. Letting my mouth run and effectively signing checks my team and I can’t cash. Also giving out luxury box tickets to strippers and homeless people I meet on the road (just for the shit and giggles of it).

Who I'd face in the Stanley Cup Finals: The NY Rangers. We go to a game 7 and then the Canucks win 18-0. I get the shutout behind a paltry 10 shots. Linden skates to the center to take the cup from new commissioner Mark Messier. In a moment of sublime righteousness, Linden leaves the cup on the table, pulls Messier's blazer over his head and uppercuts him in the face. Then he picks up the cup and celebrates; GM Place explodes in celebration as the PA blasts Rise by Pantera.

What I'd do with the Stanley Cup after our victory: Drink New Castle or Boddingtons from the cup with a crazy straw to wake up. Spin up to Whistler and board the glacier bowl with the cup in tow, I don’t care how stupid it looks. At night sit outside Iginla’s apartment with a bullhorn and more beer, repeatedly asking him if his Stanley Cup can come outside to play with mine.

Would the media love me or hate me? If you read this at all, you’d recognize they'd love me. I’d be an endless source of quotes and controversy.

Can I tag a woman? Sure I can…go Isabella!