Our Forecheckers, who art enshrined in rinks immortal, hallowed be thy blades. I beseech thee, and your patron saints, Shore, Clapper, Hitchman, and those patron saints still with us, Orr, Schmidt, Espo, Neely, O'Reilly, Bucyk, Bourque and all the saints who have done your will throughout the ages, bestow upon your faithful believers and practicers a victory in this contest. Give us this day many rubber biscuits in nets opposing, and forgive us our trespasses, as we inflict taunting and scorn upon those who trespass against us. And lead us not into an off-season of golf, but deliver us to play another round.-Courtney Rau
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