The Raycrap Report Vol. 3: Dear Vesa Toskala,

No, Vesa, I didn't photoshop that picture. That is Andrew Raycroft making a glove save on Marty St. Louis. In a shootout, no less.

Raycroft won again last night, Vesa. No, I'm not fucking around. Check the box score, bro. That's seven wins for him this season. Yep, half as many as you have. And you've started 34 games compared to his nine.

You know what else? His 2.71 GAA blows your 3.27 out the frame. But fuck the goals against average. We all know it's the save percentage that really matters. Well, the news isn't good on that front either, my friend. Raycroft's sporting a .894 to your .885. Almost a full percentage point better than you.

No, Vesa, I don't want to hear it. I don't care if the Avalanche are scoring goals for him. In his last five games, Raycroft's allowed only 11 goals, and won them all. Where has that type of consistency been from you? Where, dammit?

This is tough for me, man. You have to know that. Here I am, the guy telling people not to boo Bryan McCabe, now comparing you to Andrew Raycroft, the one guy I hate with every fibre of my being.

You've let me down, Vesa. I've been one of your biggest supporters, and one of your ardent defenders. But how long can I carry on this charade? After 34 games this season with you between the pipes, I don't think I can say that you're a legitimate number one goalie. I'm sorry.

It makes me sick to my stomach that the Leafs are, once again, one of the worst defensive teams in the league. It makes me nauseous to see that the team is killing penalties at an absolutely unacceptable 73% success rate. As much as I complain about Ron Wilson not being able to change the defensive and penalty killing fortunes of this team, I know that a big part of those dastardly numbers are, well, weak goaltending. Like Will Smith said, "Yo fault."

Look, I'm not saying Raycroft is a number one goalie. Even my Dadima knows he's not. But I don't care how many more games you play than that rat bastard, your numbers, especially your save percentage, have to be better than his.

It's time to look in the mirror, my Finnish friend. If your groin is hurt, tell Ron Wilson you need some time, and let the God damn injury heal. There's no point trotting you out there every night if you're going to give us pathetic goaltending. I mean, we've got Curtis Joseph for that.

You were supposed to be one of the few bright spots on this team this season, Vesa. You were supposed to be one of our "assets." Half the season is in the books, and you're having the worst season of your career, bar none. It's time to start giving a damn.

With love,

eyebleaf

God Damn Yankees

My 82-year-old Dadima (Grandmother), out here an ocean away in Delhi, was not in the least bit surprised that the New York Yankees landed Mark Teixeira.

When I told her the news, she looked at me with a blank expression on her face and, in her limited English, said, "You are very nice boy. Very good boy. I like you."

Obviously, she was talking about me, and not Mark Teixeira, the latest baseball player to strike it rich thanks to the God damn Yankees join the dark side.

Here's an excerpt from a Gordon Edes column over at Yahoo! Sports that should make you lose your lunch:

"The Yankees will have nine players being paid $13 million or more in 2009. Those nine players - Teixeira, C.C. Sabathia, Alex Rodriguez, Derek Jeter, A.J. Burnett, Jorge Posada, Mariano Rivera, Hideki Matsui and Johnny Damon - combine for $159.1 million, more than the payroll of any other team."

Nine guys. Who account for more payroll than any other team in baseball. Hell, probably in professional sports. That right there, my friends, is why it is my duty to hate the New York Yankees. And make no mistake about it, it is your duty as well.

Would I like an owner that spends, spends, spends, spends, spends, spends, spends, spends, spends and spends some more? Of course. I'm sure you would too. But the reality is that the Toronto Blue Jays, and 28 other teams, don't, and can't, operate that way. And that's why I hate the Yankees.

The hatred, you see, stems from jealousy. And there is no cure. All I can do is continue to bitch about New York's free-spending ways.

You know, I've learned a lot in my short, two-week sojourn on the Indian subcontinent. There's nothing quite like spending time with family. One moment, in particular, stands out: my Dadima told me she hates the Yankees, too.