Here's what would happen. The Stars would bring fat, drunk Butt Hole out of retirement. That fat, drunk piece of shit would put on his XXXXL gear and stand next to our goal. Carter Hart would make a save late in a tied Game 7, a clear and obvious save where he is holding the puck in his glove out in front of the goal. The referee would whistle and point to the net, counting a goal for the Stars. The official record would read that the goal was scored by #16 Butt Hole, but it would not record that he was both too fat and too drunk to stand up straight. The game would end and the Stars would parade the Cup.
Because the universe really, really hates us. And by us I mean me.