Of course, they'll eventually grow up. And will try to eat us. But, hey! Sorry Wayne, not this time.
*all Highs listed herein exclude the 3rd period in its entirety. No, seriously. The 3rd was just a big ball of suck.
- So you want to be The Captain? Now you can! Johnny, tell them how!: Yes, you too can find out if your Little Timmy will ever make the big leagues, with our new home version of "Am I Tough Enough?" First, using a 3/8" bit, drill a hole in Little Timmy's knee. Then, remove a chunk of loose bone. Next, send him out onto the ice exactly seven days later and have 250lb defencemen try to kill him. If he plays on your team's top line, and records two assists, you win! It's fun for the whole family!
- Atonement ( \ə-ˈtōn-mənt\) n. 1) reparation for an offense or injury: Ladies and gentlemen, Jason Spezza! Now you may be surprised, but I haven't put him up here for his four points. No. In actual fact, the things that have earned him this, without doubt the highest honour he may ever achieve, were those actions that screamed "YES! HE CAN BE TAUGHT!" These last not only include the four points, but also the 4.2 seconds of actual, hard core body contact (including a sneaky little elbow to Ollie Jokinen's noggin) in the first period, and, most important of all, the three (THREE!) occasions where he chose not to be himself and opted for the safe play up the boards rather than the blind pass through the middle. Being so out of character, you may have missed them. But trust me. They actually happened.
- With your mountains so lovely...your treetops so tall: Roto Ruutu, while not at his pestering best, nets two goals. To put it another way, he's now eight goals away from his career high. And we're still in October. Combine this with A-Train's first goal of the season (a phenomenon not normally seen before March) and the conclusion is inescapable: End times are upon us.
- This doesn't mean we're pickin' out curtains or nothin': Bravo Pastry! 34 saves, out of 37 shots, and the only reason we didn't blow a four goal lead in a third period in which we were outshot a zillion to three. Now string two games like this together and maybe, just maybe, I'll find a tiny, minute, infinitesimal glimmer of hope that you are in fact, The Man... HA HA! Just kidding! That will never happen.
- This is becoming increasingly awkward: Fish...dude. You're not making it easy for me, are you? I have long expressed my man-crush for you. I've stuck by you through your (multiple) owies and your ridiculously long goalless droughts. But it's getting hard, man. You have to give me something, anything, I can use to justify your enormous cap hit. Hearing Dean Brown say "Fisher" without "giveaway" would be a good start. Getting back to the 30 goal, heart and soul, corner crashin' guy that made me love you in the first place would be even better. Otherwise...well...Erin may have a point...
- This is obviously a plot to keep me awake at night: In years past (excluding the last three months of last season), being up 4-0 after two periods was reason enough for me to nod knowingly and begin drunk dialling friends and family in order to gloat over yet another glorious victory. Needless to say, this made me very unpopular among these last, which probably explains the plethora of "You're gonna choke!" voice mails I've been getting lately. So, yeah. I'd really appreciate it if ya'll could quit it with the "I don't feel like skating" portion of the third period. Thanks.
- If, like me, you're old enough to remember the pre-Perestroika-"DA! We love Russki!" days when Canada's greatest and most feared foe was a collection of emotionless cyborg KillBots known as the Soviet Red Army, then you, as I do, experience a visceral, completely involuntary and well nigh uncontrollable urge to destroy a Lada at the mere mention of his name...Viktor Tikhonov. So imagine my surprise when I heard Dean Brown utter those very words in reference to a twenty year old whelp of a boy who plays right wing for Phoenix. Now obviously, it can't be the same person. Which leaves but one conclusion. The forces of evil have resurfaced and, as we speak, are preparing their army of clones in a bid for world domination.
- I don't know whose idea it was, but P.A. Screamer Dude Stuntman Stu's little trick of shutting up and allowing the crowd to shout out the last name of Ottawa's goal scorers last night was fantastically awesome and should immediately become a staple of all Sens games. It won't of course. As soon as the wheels of retarded cheddar who run the marketing department realize that the crowd might be doing something completely spontaneous, they will immediately rush to drown out the noise with Stompin' Tom's "The Hockey Song".
Ugh. It was sloppy. It was clumsy. At times, it was impossible to watch. It was also worth two points. And if we play like that tonight against the Bruins, we're dead.
Um...yeah. Kinda gave it away there, but the Big Zed (they hate that down there in the 'Merica) lumbers into town leading a Bruins team Sports Illustrated picked to finish ahead of us in the division (that would put us in third, for the mathematically challenged). Are we going to take that?!?! Oh HELLS...um...well, maybe? Personally, I blame Tim Thomas. (7:00 p.m., CBC)
Behind Enemy Lines:
Welcome to The Jumbotron, a new, talented and extremely entertaining addition to the Bruins blogger base (alliteration! Wheee!). They will be appearing shortly in my blogroll if for no other reason that they referenced The Captain's knees of steel thusly: "Holy. Fucking. Shitballs."