Well, that was…nauseating. From the time the season ended last April, through the hiring of Coach Craig, right up until yesterday, the word “accountability” was uttered by someone in the organization 8,639,419 times. I know. I counted. Behold, the results. One thing I know for certain…Switzerland owes us one hell of an apology.
Pithy Observations of Questionable Importance
- Anyone else half expecting to see the crowd leave the building right after the national anthems only to have Sens P.A. screamer, Stuntman Stu tell them that contrary to what they may be accustomed to, we sing the songs before the game? Anyone? Just me? Okay then.
- Nice touch, trotting out Mats Sundin for the ceremonial face-off. It would have been nicer if he had grabbed the microphone and announced that he finally made up his goddamned mind.
- Any chance of changing the draft age to 25?: After a shaky 1st, the Verms, Kelly, Winchester line got stronger as the game went on, with Jesse in particular doing his best to get on my Christmas card list with some solid hits, a few nifty passes and good grunt work along the boards. Not bad for your first game kid. Next step? The net’s over there.
- Excuse me, Sid. You dropped your Jarkko: Three blocked shots, hard to the net, quality shifts on the PK and the general pain in the assery we’re paying you for. Yep. Keep it up, and you and I will get along just fine.
- Might want to take another look at those matchups, there Craig: Look Coach, I’m all for throwing the kids into the fire (metaphorically speaking) to see how they’ll do. After all, how else are they going to improve, right? But…um…the next time you see your defensive pairing of Lee and Picard getting eaten alive by the other team’s first line, it may be wise to avoid doing it again. And again. And again… Just sayin’.
- So…Alex. Think you’ll be good to go tomorrow?: Is it your eyes Martin? Is that the problem? Is that why you were ridiculously late reacting to just about everything that came your way? Were your contacts bothering you, maybe? Yeah, that had to be it. Because I can’t possibly think of any other reason why, other than not being ready or, perhaps not having your poor little psyched coddled sufficiently to give you that warm fuzzy glow, you’d let three absolutely, ridiculously BRUTAL goals (including the winner, we should add) blow past you. Yeah. Must be the eyes.
- We now pause for a special message to Mike Milbury: Zip it, jackass. Ever wonder why you’re sitting in a studio Mike? Spending the first intermission screaming hysterically about how
needs to pick up Khabibulin is but a small example of that reason. Continuing to do it during the second intermission, Kelly Hrudy’s kind attempts to change the subject notwithstanding, is another. Other small signs would include running a once proud franchise into a hole so deep, they have yet to recover and giving Alexei Yashin ten million dollars. Yes, there is a reason you’re sitting in a studio Mike. You’re a congenital fucking idiot. Ottawa
- If he played baseball, he would be a god: Since I figured you wouldn’t have time, what with all the sucking, I kept track for you Jason. You went 5-for-6. Five out of the six blind, dumb-as-a-bag-of-rocks, infuriating, across the ice, through the middle, from behind the fucking red line passes you tried today either ended up on the stick of someone in a white jersey or at the opposite end of the rink. Funny, I could have sworn I heard you telling the press just last week about how hard you were going to work at being more responsible with the puck. Good thing for you then, that your ever so clever attempt at a one-on-four in OT which resulted in Kennedy’s winning goal will likely distract the clamouring masses from that little contradiction.
The Creamy Middle:
Hot damn, I love spring! Mild temperatures, lovely foliage, BBQs, and….what? Waddya mean this isn’t April?? Really? This is a new season? Crap.
Up Next:Same bad time, same bad channel, same funny looking building. Ever have one of those recurring nightmares where no matter how much you do differently, you still end up buck naked at centre ice while 20,000 people point, laugh and throw little packets of mayo at you? Me too! Terrible, isn't it? That's what playing Pittsburgh is starting to feel like.
Behind Enemy Lines:
Please say hello to FrankD over at PensBurgh. During the...unpleasantness...last April, and despite having every reason to gloat and dance over our broken corpses, Frank went out of his way to extend the hand of friendship. True, it may have been more out of pity than anything else, but I still appreciated it. And besides, I'm not sure I'm quite ready to deal with the unholy whordes from The Pensblog.