I don't know that people are referring to fortuitous music being played behind the unfriendly fire of inter-fanbase fisticuffs between fucking assholes when they say that sometimes there are other forces at work during sporting events. That said, it certainly felt like some sort of higher-power - perhaps even a stumbling, bumbling St. Patrick himself - summoned his sense of humor in cueing the most aggressive entrance music in wrestling history as a bald drunk with an attitude problem dripped domestic beer while dropping an unprepared antagonist. If the surroundings, circumstances, and score of that shamelessly stupid scene weren't hand selected by the hockey and/or wrestling gods themselves then that's just some...ahem...Stone Cold serendipity. We're talking about a lottery-esque level of luck manifesting itself so that over-served idiots falling all over themselves could be part of something truly magical, as opposed to solely being a part of something truly stereotypical. The unmistakable sound of glass shattering in the background was the type of stunner of a script flip that could bring Vince McMahon to his knees, even if Boston fans belligerently boozing themselves into a 5-body pileup as their over-confidence turned into anxiety was the exact opposite.
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