Stanley the snowbird

 OK, so, FINE, then. Let the Florida Panthers keep Lord Stanley.

(He said, a trifle peevishly)

(Wondering if Lord Stanley is just another Canadian snowbird now)

(Also wondering why Canada can't have nice things anymore, even with Connor McDavid and Leon Draisaitl 'n' them running the procurement department)

But enough parentheticals.

Time now to give the Blob's grudging due to the best team in professional hockey, which only got better by adding Boston Bruins graybeard Brad Marchand to the roster. And which therefore brushed aside the Edmonton Oilers in six games instead of seven in their Stanley Cup Final rematch.

They were a demonstrably better team this time around than in 2024, and they proved it rather emphatically, claiming the Cup with thumping wins in Games 5 and 6. In Edmonton in game 5, the Panthers won 5-2 to go up 3-2 in the series; in the clincher last night in Sunrise, Fla., they breezed 5-1.

That's a 10-3 spread with Stanley on the line, an appropriate ending to a series Florida dominated after the first two games. They lost in overtime and won in double OT in Games 1 and 2, but it was all Panthers after that: In their final three wins they outscored the Oilers 16-4, and, except for Edmonton's miracle comeback from three goals down in Game 4, the margin would have been wider than that.

So, yeah, the best team won. The only upset here was Florida center Sam Bennett winning the Conn Smythe Trophy as MVP and not the 37-year-old Marchand.

All the graybeard did, after all, was put up 10 goals and 10 assists in the playoffs -- including six goals and two game-winners in the Final. In the mix, seemingly, for every crucial Panthers goal, he anchored a line that was plus-17 in the playoffs.

Conn Smythe numbers for sure. But, oh, well.

Oh, well, Florida wins again, so once more we'll get the bizarre sight of Snowbird Stanley being paraded around South Beach and environs. OK, so it's bizarre to me, grumpy old man that I am. 

If I had my way, the Stanley Cup would never be allowed south of the Mason-Dixon Line. And get off my lawn and watch where you're going you damn fool, besides.

Anyway, here's to the Panthers, the unrepentant sunbathers. Drink mojitos out of Stanley. Take it the beach and rub sunscreen on it. See if I care.

(He said, still a trifle peevishly)