Red Wings 3, Sens 2 -- So What Have We Learned From This, Class?

Well, for one thing, we've learned that it's not very wise to pull four of our five players off on a line change while nursing (and I mean nursing) a 2-1 lead as the most hellacious transition game in the league is busting down the wing. Right this way, Mr. Franzen.

The Highs:

• The kids are alright, Part I: Ho. Ly. Crap. Little Nicky's second period goal, scored on the rebound with two defencemen draped on his back after splitting the D on an end-to-end rush, is now 1A on my list of most spectacular goals scored in Senators history, only slightly behind Giggles pwning Sheldon Souray in OT. Somebody with more interwebbing skills than mine own needs to get that up on YouTube. Like, right now.

• The kids are alright, Part II: It so happens I'll be enjoying Thanksgiving dinner at my uncle's place, a half hour down the road, in bucolic Long Sault, Ontario, home of our very own Jesse Winchester. I'm told that the Winchesters are acquaintances of the family (mostly because, if you live in Long Sault, everybody is an acquaintance). I may ask for directions to their house, if for no other reason than to prostrate myself at the feet of Jesse's father in order to properly thank him for impregnating his wife. Yeah, you might say I'm becoming a bit of a fan.

• We now pause for a damning by faint praise: Against my better judgment, I'm going to cut you some slack here, Martin. Sure, you probably should have had that last shot. After all, real money goalies don't allow a winning goal with less than two minutes to go, no matter how many crazy bounces it takes. That said, being out shot 41-22 makes it pretty tough to blame the goalie for the loss, and you did come up with some spectacular saves, without which this game was over by the end of the second. And don't take this the wrong way, but do you know what else real money goalies do? Steal games their teams have no business winning. Just sayin'...
  

The Lows:

• Somebody needs a time out chair: Look Christoph, you've made it abundantly clear you'd rather be a sixth D-man than a fourth line forward. We know that. But maybe, and I'm just spit balling here, but maybe your coaches think you're more useful to the team playing on the wing, whether or not you agree with them. So how about you stop pouting about it and, oh...I don't know...look like you give a shit about playing the game? Thanks. That'd be cool.
  

• *Sigh* Let's do it ALL over again, starting with the electrical college: It seems to me, the consensus was pretty clear coming into the season. The only way we're going to go anywhere, was to work harder than our opponent. Everybody said it. More than a few wrote it. And one of the team's more enthusiastic supporters may have even spent most of Saturday afternoon yelling it from his own rooftop as he cleaned out his eave troughs...or so I heard. So what happened? Three games in and the boys are 1-for-3 in the "beat the other guys to a pulp" department. So let's try it again, shall we? All together now! LET'S GO FORE-CHECK! (clap-clap clapclapclap).
  

• You cannot cure herpes, but you can contain the outbreaks: Mike Milbury just keeps popping up, doesn't he? If his polluting TSN's That's Hockey wasn't bad enough, there he was, bloviating on The Satellite Hot Stove. Great. Mike Milbury and Al Strachan on the same panel. Their combined egos may well tear open a hole in the fabric of space-time and destroy us all.
  

Pithy Observations of Questionable Importance:

• C'mon guys, it's the home opener! Why did everybody look like they were waiting for root canals? A little excitement during the player introductions shouldn't be that hard to muster, should it? Fish, next time I want to see you go Ray Lewis on your team's ass and do a Dirty Bird at centre ice. You've got a whole year to practice. GO!
  

• Now I don't know who, or what, is in charge of the team's Pump Up The Crowd division, but my money is on a wheel of retarded cheddar. First came that ridiculous and embarrassing We Are SPARTA! intro last April *shudder* (as much as I've attempted to repress the memory...it just won't go away!). Then we get saddled with what may well go down in the annals of marketing as the lamest slogan ever..."Sens Army: A force united!" Ooooh, be still my groin! So yeah, about those intros there Edam...if you want to sustain any kind of crowd noise (a rarity in and of itself at SBP) you might want to try introducing the training staff and coaches first. If memory serves, Ed Sullivan didn't say "Ladies and Gentlemen...THE BEATLES!...coming up soon. Please welcome Harvey the Musical Wombat and his all kazoo quartet." Get it?
  

• Memo to Roy Mlakar: No offence to Lyndon Slewidge, but I think our anthem could have done with a little more Swedish hottie.
  

The Creamy Middle:

This one is easy. The boys had to come out with their absolute best game to have a chance. They didn't. They lost. And frankly, they deserved it. If it weren't for Pastry (there's something you won't see here very often), and the erection inducing play of the kids (take a bow Messrs. Foligno, Winchester and Picard) the final score would have been much, much worse. The nice thing about watching an October game I really didn't expect them to win in the first place, is that the inevitable loss doesn't tend to cost me as much, either in sanity or fragile household items. Lay an egg like this in March? Let's just say my dog really hopes that doesn't happen.

Up Next:

Week 3 kicks off next Friday, with The Great One's Phoenix Coyotes in the house (SportsNet East with the coverage). Please forgive the mixed sporting metaphors in that sentence, but at this rate, the 08-09 season is going to take roughly eleventeen years to actually play.

Behind Enemy Lines:

Tracy, one of the Hockey Ladies Of Greatness, opens her heart to the internets at True Coyote Love. Be sure to pop in and say hi, won't you? After all, everybody loves puppies. Even Gator.

Happy Turkey Day, everyone!