Dear Ron Wilson,

Let me dispense with the niceties. You and your Sharks are really starting to anger me. You’re a good coach, they’re a good team, blah blah blah. The fact is, good on paper or good in the regular season is like Tiger Woods schooling his friends at Putt-Putt. So what? Show me the point. No, the only time skill and talent matter is when a tournament of champions is on the line and at this moment, it is as close to being on the line as it is going to get this year.

My question—my only question—is what are you going to do about it?

Oh I heard that you “called some players out.” Of course, you didn’t name any names, so there was that whole ambiguity thing. I’m sure you probably meant Patrick Marleau, but did he get the message? Since he still doesn’t have a point this series, I’m going to guess not. Maybe you meant Bill Guerin, too, but now he’s hurt so it doesn’t matter.

And I know you keep preaching the gospel of desire, where he who wants it most gets it. But you know what? I’m pretty sure every coach in every playoff series for every team has recited that sermon. This isn’t something new you’ve stumbled on here, Magellan, it’s straight from the Grand Tome of Sports Cliches and Overused Hyperbole. Chapter 8: The Playoff Speeches, page 264.

So maybe enough talk. Listen, you guys got worked on Saturday afternoon. Worked. Pwned, in online gamer parlance. 4-1 was a generous score. It easily could have been 6-1 or 7-1 the way you idiots played after the 10 minute mark in the first period. In a way, I wish it had been worse. Maybe a little embarrassment like that 8-0 slaughter against the lowly Coyotes would have gone a long way to lighting the fire under your guys. Or you.

Did I mention I’m prepared to hold you responsible if you can’t pull this series out of your hat? Let me put it this way: You have to do something and you have to do it Monday. The talk means nothing. The talk does nothing. If you want to call someone out, do it plainly, and get in their face about it. Here, let me get you started.

Kyle McLaren: Get off your rear or go home. You know that cute little ice-sprawl you did that directly paved the way for goal number three? Stop it. Blocking pucks is good, but lying around like you’re waiting for your masseuse to show up is a great way to take yourself out of the play. Jolly good show, that. And while we’re at it, let’s talk about hitting. You know that patented hip check you used to love to throw before everyone in the league figured it out and started giving you a clear shot at the boards instead with just a little stutter-step? Well if that was your only trick then head on back to Boston, chump. We don’t need ya. But here’s a hint: There are lots of opportunities to hit a guy. Take them, or take off.

Patrick Marleau: Wake up, you lazy squint-eyed dweeb. Yes, yes, you can walk all over Nashville. How special. You do know that you have to win four of these series to be a champion, right? I mean, they teach you how to count to four in those Canadian public schools, don’t they? Well then take a long hard look at that ‘C’ on your sweater and get to work. Stop trying to be cute. Stop trying to be Joe Thornton. Shoot. The. Puck. You. Fool.

Christian Ehrhoff: Repeat after me: “I’m a defenseman. Defense is my primary concern. I’m a defenseman. Defense is my primary concern.” We love ya, Chris. But please, please, please will you pay attention to your primary responsibility? Oh, and while you’re at practice on Sunday, let’s see what we can do about holding a blue line, eh?

See, Ron? Get up in people’s faces. Tell them to shape up or ship out. We (the fans) want a Stanley Cup. We don’t want a “solid effort” or any such mediocrity. I’ve already tried to appeal to the team on behalf of the fans. Now I’m appealing to you: Do something to spark this team or I’ll be first in line to call for your head. You think I’m under some delusion that this crop of talented players is your doing? No, I’m pretty sure that’s Doug’s doing which makes you responsible for only one thing: Make these guys play better.

Of course now you only have one more shot, maybe. So here’s the deal: I better see you screaming at those guys. I want to see lines juggled. I want to see less “accentuate the positive” during your in-game interviews and more fire and brimstone. You’d better be hopping mad that you’re down 3-2 in this series because I am. In fact, let’s see Toskala.

Oh yeah, you heard me. Sure, Nabby’s been good since Vesa got hurt. He was phenomenal for a while there. But now you gotta shake things up. Don’t you dare get ousted from these playoffs without letting Vesa have at least one chance. Your sense of loyalty means diddly to me. You know who you ought to be loyal to? Us. The fans. I want to see you pulling out all the stops. If you have to start Nabby, fine, but he’d better be on a shutout-only leash. Anything gets by him, out comes the hook. Do not make this Nabby’s series and playoff run to lose with a phenomenal goalie like Toskala sitting on his rump.

You want the team to step it up? You step it up. Make them care. Make them fight. Make them win. I’m sick of craptacular Bay Area sports teams. You know when the last time we had a world champion was? 1994. That was thirteen years ago. Not good enough. Now’s your chance to redeem us. We aren’t just the fans with the “Team of the Eighties” or the idiots who had to cannibalize ourselves to win a baseball championship in 1989. We can be the fans who cheered the Stanley Cup champions on to glory.

But we can’t do it alone. You have to help us.

And if you won’t, we’ll start looking for someone who will.

Sincerely,
Paul Hamilton
Sharks Fan