- Kool-Aid Will Continue To Be Served On The Mezzanine Level Until 6:00pm: For all of the wailing and rending of garments going on around here over the last seven games, we would do well to remember that the boys still managed to grab 5 of 14 points. Lucky? Sure. But we’ll take ‘em. This means we’re still four points up on the Hartolina Whalicanes for tops in the East. Even more miraculous, we’re only three back of Detroy-it for first overall. Who said October games are meaningless? Oh right. I did.
- Superman Never Made Any Money, Saving The World From Solomon Grundy: Swedes are well known as a rather stoic people, and for good reason. You never see news reports of drunken mobs, liquored up on Carlsberg and Absolut rampaging through the streets of Stockholm, pummeling innocent passers by with blunt objects (well, almost never). And so it is with The Captain. He threw the team on his back with 13 points in 7 of the crappiest games played in the last ten years, including single-handedly stealing a point for us in
. So Daniel, you have our permission to cut loose. Go CRRR-AAAY-ZZAY Viking style! Kiss your beautiful girlfriend…on the mouth…IN PUBLIC! No, really it’s okay. You’ve earned it. Tampa Bay
Will RobinsonJohn Paddock! Danger!:Anyone who thinks the slump is done, that PHEW!, we’re out of the woods with nothing but sunshine and lollipops in front of us, and is therefore scrambling to get back on the bandwagon, please consider the following facts:
- A) We beat the Panthers for our only win in eight games. Not exactly the ’76-’77 Habs are they? (why the hell do they keep popping up??)
- B) All of the problems that led to the slump (shaky goaltending, brutal giveaways, tentative breakout passes, goddammit HIT SOMEBODY!) were still in evidence on Wednesday, albeit to a lesser extent. It takes a while to break bad habits. Trust me, I’m a smoker. I know.
- D) Fair weather fans suck and should be boiled alive in their own feces.
- Is That Most Of Our Goals In Your Pocket, Or Are You Just Happy To See Me?: When we lost in last year’s Finals, it was in large part due to a lack of secondary scoring. When questioned about this apparent problem, your humble scribe boldly proclaimed to our enemies that this would not be a problem this year. Upon gazing in stupefaction at the Senators stats page (which I normally avoid if at all possible), my Magic Cloak of Smug Invisibility melted away in the face of cold, hard numbers. 61% of all Senator goals this year have come either from Heater or The Captain. Sixty-one freakin’ percent. If I’m Coach P, that scares the piss out of me. I’m not Coach P. (he smiles more than I do), and it scares the piss out of me. So boys, from now on and until such time as you both learn to share, you are never EVER to be in the same vehicle at the same time. One Emery-esque “mishap” and we’re screwed. We’re also going to book you into separate hotels. Don’t worry Heater. Super 8s have cable too.
We're close kids, but not quite out of it yet. Passes that missed by six inches last week, missed by three on Wednesday. Shots that once were four feet wide, were a mere two. The skating is a little faster, the hitting is a little harder (Golden Groin excepted) and the hands seem to finally be loosening a tad. The signs of an eventual return to dominance are there. Of course, that can all turn to shit against Dallas tonight, a somewhat stronger opponent than we faced in Florida. But since that game is on Pay-Per-Screwed, I will blissfully ignore it and anything that results from it. And if things go the way of the last PPV game, even those who paid for it may be forced to ignore it as well. But I'll bet they won't be nearly as blissful.
Since it's the next game anybody can see, we'll go with Wednesday, on the road, at the aforementioned Whaleicanes. I take no end of amusement in the fact that the largest of Canada's Big Six banks owns the naming rights on a hockey rink in the middle of NASCAR country. And by "amusement", I of course mean "barely controllable rage". It's so nice to see the 28% interest I'm paying on my credit card going to such a worthwhile, and no doubt profitable endeavour. Believe me when I say I mean this in the nicest way possible: Fuck you Royal Bank.