Welp, give that socially unorthodox anecdote its own damn chapter in the bathroom reading of both St. Louis Blues' and Stanley Cup lore. Carl Gunnarsson, who just as easily could have been watching from a luxury suite had Vince Dunn happened to have returned to the lineup last night, remaining entirely un-phased after hitting the post so hard you'd think it slapped his mother only to figuratively show his balls to Craig Berube while their dicks were literally in hand. It's not the most aesthetically endearing visual, I suppose, but what followed was the self-fulfilling of a mid-piss prophecy that perfectly encapsulates the predictable unpredictability of a postseason during which the unexpected is to be expected. A defensive-minded role player not only scoring his first ever playoff goal to give a long-suffering franchise its first ever finals victory, but also openly envisioning himself as the overtime hero at the urinal beforehand? That's so ridiculously surreal that it's actually the most real representation of a sport whose most significant moments so often make the least amount of sense. Call it wishful thinking. Call it irrational confidence. Call it the overly hopeful desire to completely erase from his memory the painful ping of the most unforgiving of iron...
Call it whatever the hell you want. Just remember that Carl Gunnarsson called it first when he talked over simultaneous streams in speaking his odds-defying OT goal into existence as someone that refused to be denied his own scene in any potential championship DVD. He didn't just prove, once and for all, that the most brilliant ideas are born in the bathroom. He also proved that persistence is key to Stanley Cup success by...ahem...relieving himself of a pee-bound promise in heroic fashion.
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