Okay, so I was talking to our noon anchorman, Stacy yesterday and somehow the topic went from naked men vs. men in boxer/briefs to hockey (don't ask)...specifically our first 90-91 Stanley Cup championship...even more specifically, Paul Coffey.
Paul Coffey was the first love of my hockey life way back when I became a fan of the best sport in the world. Le Magnifique, Mario was around for several years before we acquired the raven-haired, skating dream boat who became an integral part of our winning seasons. He was an unbelievable defense man. And boy could that dude skate! He'd steal the puck and suddenly pour on the jets and fly up ice to stuff it in the net. Brilliant!
And Good God Almighty was he handsome! Like, Roger Ramjet handsome. He even had the jutty cartoon jaw. I mean, come on. Look at him all tall, dark and gorgeous.
He lived close by our house, but sadly, I never got to meet him in person. Probably a good thing. Chances are I'd have a framed restraining order hanging on the wall to compliment my arrest record.
Anywho, back to yesterday.
So Stacy starts to tell me a tale (pun intended-you'll get this in second) about sitting in the Pens locker room after our Stanley Cup win in Minnesota waiting to interview some of the players for our post victory coverage. Along strolls the object of my ovarian affection, Paul to sit down for his one-on-one...completely naked.
I'm sorry. What? I just passed out at the mere thought of gazing upon his glorious gluts. Did Stacy just say Paul Coffey had his bare heroic ham hocks hunkered down on a stool next to him? You betcha.
As #77 casually walked away after the interview, even Stacy had to admit it was a thing of beauty to watch the broad shoulders, chiseled torso and beautiful buttocks of this Adonis.
Okay, that fall's going to leave a mark.