Leafy's lament

In the beginning there was darkness. And from this darkness came many bad and horrible things - war, famine, death and Luton. There seemed no hope for this world. But then, emerging from the darkness was a figure. A tall figure he, with horns. A figure that seemed to be an army man, but made with leafs. A figure so fearful all before him cowered. And thus spake said figure 'I am the Leafy. The epic giraffe. A giraffe of legend. I, being taller than you mere mortal types, am closer to god. Who I know as Stephanie. You people live in fear of many dark things, like death or Hull. I shall give you a gift, around which you can unite and fight the dark things. I shall give you a hockey team for the ages.'

Thus after many years of searching for the right place for his gift, Leafy came across a Jaw of Moose in Canada. But was then thrown royally from the country, for minor indiscretions like stealing a Tim Horton's doughnut, and genocide. Thus Leafy found a Keynes blessed by Milton himself, a home of roundabouts, and concrete cows and red cows that race. And so Leafy said unto himself 'This is the promised land. This is where I shall create the Harlem Globetrotters of the hockey world. And they shall be giraffes.' Build it and they shall come, it was once quoted in Wayne's World. And it was built. And they did come. A fine collection of the most talented and well paid players in the world. At the Gardens. And thus it was to be a thing of legend.

Unfortunately, The good lord Leafy had forgot one small thing. His bunch of overpaid snarling little girls was managed by none other than himself, again a snarling overpaid large horny beast. And so and thus, after teasing playoff hockey for the followers of the tall concrete ones, it seems once again that Leafy and co will be to the golf course at the first opportunity.

Until next year, when after some epic trading we shall be in the same position again, with Leafy taking either some happy pilss, or his own life (which is not easy when you are an immortal giraffe).

Lament with Leafy. For one day, this could be your story. Unless you are not an immortal giraffe, in which case you will have to tweak bits. For this will not be Leafy's story next year. Next year shall be very different. Next it happens. Next year is the time. Next year, the Giraffes go bust.