Don and Ron have been visiting me in my living room for as long as I care to remember, every Saturday night. I never knew either of my grandfathers, but I imagine they would be a lot like Don. Therefore, I have adopted Don as my honorary Papa. I don't imagine I am the only one. Coincidentally, Ron is my dopey uncle.
Anyhow, Don Cherry has been preaching hockey from the country's highest pulpit since the sweet baby Jesus first strapped on the blades. He's an old boy. Set in his ways. Not the most enlightened speaker, but entertaining, nonetheless.
Let's put it this way, you sit down for a drink at your local watering hole with some oldtimer. He starts to tell a story. You know that not every word is true, but do you stop him? Do you reprimand for speaking his mind? No. You let him tell his tale and you are entertained.
If you are hoping Don Cherry is going to teach you something, you are in serious need of a life, friend.
Why are Chris Nilan, Stu Grimson and others getting their panties in a wad? Hasn't your grandfather ever called you fat? Or, swore in front of your kids? This behaviour shouldn't alarm you. It should be taken with a grain of salt. A story for when you are Don's age.
My views on enforcers are simple: If you are on an NHL team, you should be trusted enough to play a regular shift. Make minimum average playing times for players and you will take care of the designated fighters. There will still be fights, of course, but they will be spur of the moment fights, fuelled by the passion of the moment. Is it getting warm in here?
Anyway, I just w

-bobbyshow
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