By now, everyone in Edmonton and their pets know about the Chris Pronger fiasco. Rumours are flying around about wives and female sports reporters. Messageboards are cracking down on people posting these rumours, in fear of slander. Everything is nuts.

Then there's the other Oilers. Peca. Roloson. Laraque. Even head coach Craig MacTavish. Rumours are, none of these people are going to sign with the Oilers.

But do I care? No. Will I cry over this spilt milk, over the team crumbling before my eyes? No. Will I analyze stats, probabilities, and all the trade rumours, trying to predict what our lineup will be come October? Hell no.

To me, hockey is hockey. Hockey isn't rumours, or politics, or a bunch of stats and probabilities in a spreadsheet. I watch hockey, I watch it for the hockey -- not the latest news on who's sleeping with who. When I read about hockey, I read the game reviews -- not how devestated some journalist is because our PK% dropped 0.1%.

I'm getting kind of sick of this whole fiasco. I pride myself as a big Oilers fan, so natually, everyone around the office immediately things I'm in the know about all these rumours. "What does Lauren Pronger look like?" "Which CityTV chick did Pronger sleep with?" "When is the baby due?"

Please, guys. I'm a fan of Oilers hockey. No more, no less. Come October, whoever's playing for the team, I'll be cheering for them. We could have a team of blind, deaf midgets or a team where we had the first 23 picks in a fantasy draft; I'd cheer for them either way.

I was raised watching hockey. Listening to hockey. Playing hockey. Reading about hockey. Idolizing the sport itself. Screw people who love the numbers or rumours more than the sport itself. Hockey rocks.