Sens 3, Flyers 2(SO): If Only Bullitt Could Play Left Wing

There is a school of thought among the more cliché prone members of the hockey commentariat (you will know them by their twin predilections for headsets and pointing out the hottest puck bunnies in the crowd) that states "a 2-0 lead is the most dangerous in hockey" (although the Rangers may beg to differ).

It's an odd statement when you think about it, peculiar to our little game. Hell, if you have a 2-0 lead in a soccer game, your fans all already burning cars and clubbing little old ladies with bar stools for kicks. And you'd never hear...say...Emmitt Smith state "a two touchdown lead is the most dangerous in football", would you? No, you wouldn't. And why not? Because that sentence structure is way to complex for Emmitt. But my point still stands. All leads, no matter the score, are good. Why? Well, after all, leading beats...um...not leading, and by a fair margin, I should think. So, Mister "Hey Look! My Microphone Looks Like A Penis!", if a team loses a 2-0 lead, it's not because of any inherent danger in the number itself.

It's called "choking". Ask us. We know of what we speak.

The Highs:

• Don't worry Martin. You'll look great in a Kings jersey: Almost as much fun as seeing Swiss Pastry's pained expression after watching Ray (finally!) turn in a big-league, "money" performance? His attempts to hide it. I'm told that the SBP maintenance staff should have the teeth marks removed from the bench door in time for tomorrow night.

• Holy crap! When did we get a third scoring line?: Verms-Kelly-Stillman. Write it down John. Write it down in stone, have it bronzed and surgically inserted where your heart should have been, had you not been born a cyborg. You've been looking for people to play with Cory. You may have found them. Chris was a mad man, and Vermette's tip in to go up 2-0 (stick that in your poke check, Martin Biron) was a direct result of the Philly D keying on #61. Ah, but what to do with Neiler when he comes back from the flu, you may be asking yourself? This one is easy, no matter how much the itch to scramble the lines is eating at your soul. Randy, please report to the press box.

• Well THAT sure beats the hell out of my hand crafted porcelain ashtray: As my regular reader knows, I don't generally offer too many bouquets to opposing teams here. But I have to give credit where it's due, and congratulate Flyers coach John Stevens for putting Ottawa's own Claude Giroux, a rookie emergency call-up, out as the first shoot out...er...shooter, knowing that his whole family was in attendance. Sportsnet had a great shot of Giroux's dad rushing down the 100 level steps to take a picture as the fruit of his loins twirled at centre ice, waiting for the go ahead from the ref. Awww...that was nice. What was even nicer, though, was the fact that he missed. Sorry Claude, but my "aw-shucks" squishiness only stretches so far.

The Lows:

• Maybe Brian Burke is on to something: Four feet high. Six feet wide. Behold, gentlemen, the regulation NHL net. So please tell me why it was that most of you couldn't get anywhere near it? By my highly unofficial and possibly inebriated count, a total of 14 shots, most from the point or high slot missed the net completely. Oh, and The Captain's turn in the shoot out? Wide right, by two feet. Natch.

• CASH and burn! Thank you, I'll be here all week. Try the veal: Thankfully, I haven't had to call any of the the Big Line out very often this year. Otherwise, we'd be languishing somewhere down around the sixth circle of hell in the standings (but still ahead of the Leafs!). But, last night...um...yikes. Gentlemen, though I suspect you know this already, let's not repeat that performance too often shall we? And Jason? Watch the tapes. There's a reason Teflon John kept you on the bench while we "enjoyed" a power play with less than a minute to go in a tie game. Damn you for making me agree with him.

• Seriously. Dude. What the hell is wrong with you?: Jesus Wade. I mean...damn. Is it gas? It's gas isn't it? Are you gassy? All night long. You whiffed on holding the point. You were beaten to almost every puck (with one colossal "sit down bitch" hit taken in the second for good measure). You couldn't make a first pass to save your life and generally treated the puck as if it were a live grenade. What the hell? You're making it really hard for some of us to defend your continued invocation of your no-trade clause my friend.

Creamy Middle:

We'll take the points, thank you. After spotting the Devils the first half of the game on Saturday, I guess the boys thought it would be fun to try it the other way around last night. Here's the thing though. You may not have noticed, but just down the 417, the greatest game in the history of everything ever (according to some) happened, and, despite the win, we're still tied for first in the Eastern Conference. So...howza 'bout we try something new, starting...say...right fucking now. How about we try to put a whole game together? Yeah. That would be cool.

Up Next:

Tomorrow night, at the Bank, those terrors of the Midwest, the Columbus Blue Jackets come calling. Now, I've never been to Ohio. I'm sure it's a lovely, if somewhat corn addled state. But do you really think that a hockey team named for giant wasps is a good way to attract the tourists? Just askin'.

Behind Enemy Lines: Yet another representin' (do the kids even say that anymore?) talent from HLOG (man, they are everywhere), I give to you Bethany's Hockey Rants. What she lacks in hot pink formatting, she more than makes up for in passion.

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