In one of the greatest soundbites of all time, Harry Neale, on getting fired as Chief Canucklehead, told reporters "We couldn't win at home, and we couldn't win on the road. My failure as a coach was my inability to find somewhere else to play". Well Harry, I'm happy to report that the NHL has listened and created a completely neutral site for struggling teams: Glendale, Arizona. At one point in the second, I'm pretty sure I heard someone in the crowd open a bag of peanuts. Followed quickly by the sound of another fan, sitting several sections over, telling him to shut the hell up and keep the noise down, dammit!
The Highs:
- And it went. Wherever I. Did gooooo!: Fishy fishy fishy Fish! One short handed goal, one power play goal, one of the very few forecheckers, big hits and a valiant, if futile, attempt to lead his tenderhearted teammates into places they otherwise fear to tread: the corners. Please spit in the cup Mike. Emperor Eugene finally has a use for that cloning lab I'm convinced he's secretly built in the SBP basement. Hey, if you have a better idea about why we're paying eleven bucks for a beer, I'd like to hear it!
- Joe who?: Taking his cue from his aforementioned linemate, Cory was the (only) other guy who looked like he actually gave a crap, at least for the first two periods. While he wasn't rewarded with any goals, he did manage to surpass Joe Corvo's career hit total as a Senator by mid point of the first. So...looks like we won that trade after all.
- Karma is a vengeful mistress...and a bit of a bitch, truth be told: To: Martin Hanzal. From: W. Gretzky (Head Coach). Dear Martin. A shorthanded breakaway, with the chance to further deflate an already reeling opponent with a third straight goal in less then five minutes sitting there for the taking, may not be the best time to try to get on the highlight reels with some jackass, hotdog, dipsy-doodle, behind the back and through the legs, practice ice bullshit. Please note that Mike Fisher's tying goal came on the ensuing rush while you stood in a corner trying to get your stick out of your ass. Please report to press box.
- Breaking up is NOT that hard to do. Really. Try it: Holy crap Bryan. Under no circumstances should Reds and Mesz ever be on the ice at the same time again. You're just courting disaster. Between Andrej's propensity to hand scoring chances to the other team like a crack dealer at a certain Ottawa live music venue (stupid pass through the middle of our zone = Yotes' 2nd goal... Soccer girlie man routine after taking puck in the mask..."My face! My beautiful face!"... = Yotes' point blank shot) and Redden's absolute inability to do anything but try weak ass stick checks against opposing forwards, it's a wonder we only gave up two goals. Seriously. Split 'em. Or better yet, sit 'em. Both of them.
- Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na LEADER! Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na LEADER!: Last night's Hot Stove on HNIC dealt with the lasting effects of Teflon's Reign Of Error. Quoting "an unnamed GM", words such as "Have to ditch Emery", "Cancer", "laziest practice team in the league" and, most telling "they have to be deprogrammed" serves as further proof that John Paddock is the gift that just keeps on giving.
Um...excuse me, Phoenix? Just what the hell is "Jobing.com"? And do you really want to entrust your career aspirations to a company that can't even spell? Just wondering.
Creamy Middle:
If someone had told me way back in those golden days of October that the Sens would be facing a "must win"...in March...against Phoenix, I would have laughed and laughed and laughed. If someone had told me that last week, I would have screamed "DON'T YOU THINK I KNOW THAT?!?!" before punching them in the mouth. Well, we won our "must win". Whoopdee-fucking-doo. With 12 games to go, TEN of which are within our division, nothing I saw last night gives me the warm and squishies about getting out of the first round...assuming we even make the playoffs (a proposition still very much up in the air Sens fans).
Up Next:
Tuesday night, back home, against the Broons. This is the second to last Pay Per Screwed game of the year. I'm not sure I can resist ordering it. After all, as with any addiction, it's hard to stop once you start...
Behind Enemy Lines:
Check out Ghosts of the Garden for a fan's eye view of what it's like to get spanked 8-1 (by the Leafs!) and 10-2 by Alex the Great and his Capital minions in the same week. Youch. Not that we have any great experience with losing to Toronto or Washington...oh no. None at all.
6 comments:
After all, as with any addiction, it's hard to stop once you start...
Please tell me this is an addiction to watching Sens and not Bruins. Because an addiction to Bruins would just be sad and shameful, but Sens is borderline respectable. It's the difference between huffing spray paint to get high and taking lots of allergy meds to get high--both are reprehensible and embarrassing, but one is slightly less so.
Just what the hell is "Jobing.com"? And do you really want to entrust your career aspirations to a company that can't even spell? Just wondering.
I pronounce it like the Biblical Job. It helps a little bit but does very little to explain that name.
@sherry: you know, that name does make a lot more sense when you put it like that. I mean, you take a guy who's got a good life and God turns it to crap just to prove a point to Satan, it sounds like when a player gets traded to Phoenix from another team, right?
(note: I am not a theologian or whatever by any means, but I think that's the gist of the tale)
Actually LD, I was referring to my nascent addiction to watching our boys play like a bantam girls team, AND paying for the privilege.
Sherry: If I'm understanding you correctly, you're saying that Wayne Gretzky is actually trapped in the belly of a giant whale. Oddly enough, that makes much more sense.
SLC, sure...uh, except that was Jonah who got trapped in the whale. Refer to LD's post, she's got the idea.
Dammit! I knew sleeping through Sunday school would eventually come back to bite me in the ass.
Ohhhh...now Father George is going to want to "talk" to me again...
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