Game 6: Sens 3, Hurricanes 6 -- The Highs, The Lows, The Creamy Middle

There was a day, 12 years ago or so, when you would read in the paper "Game Night -- Senators vs. Whalers" and have an involuntary shudder race up your spine. Ottawa against Hartford was the NHL equivalent to Chinese water torture. Take two of the League's worst teams at the height of the clutch and grab era, throw in a dash of Trap and you were guaranteed be subjected to the worst kind of hockey (mistake filled, slow, plodding, sorry..."defensive") since the Harold Ballard's glory years in Toronto. As a fan, you felt obliged to watch these games knowing full well that you'd never get those precious hours back. But you sure as hell didn't enjoy it. Then the Whalers up and moved, changed their name and got good enough to win a Cup. Two years later, they come into our house and show this particular fan that they may well be the biggest problem our Big Ugly Trophy dreams may face this season. Bastards!

The Highs:

• Heater scores his fifth goal in six games. Sure, it was a bit of a gift, but at this pace, we should be naming schools after him by Christmas. And if a bloated, clueless gasbag can win a Nobel Prize...just sayin'.

• The game itself. While it's still early, this was easily the most entertaining game I've watched this year. Fast, open, end-to-end, this of course drives head coaches nuts, but if I'm Gary Bettman (and thank God I'm not), I'm getting very aroused at the possibility of these two teams meeting in the playoffs.

• The Captain, leading by example. The only one of the good guys on the ice who looked like he had any legs, his third period blow-by through the Carolina D was an almost exact carbon copy of his breakaway in Game 5 of the Finals, where he tried to will an exhausted team to a win by putting them on his back. While both were unsuccessful, in Alfie we trust.

The Lows:

• In Martin Gerber we do NOT trust. I mentioned after the Devils game that he was letting himself get out of position after the initial stop, an observation for which I was gently taken to task in the comments by TJ of Sens HQ. Well, Carolina's second goal came as a direct result of exactly that, local colour man Gord Miller's hysterical protestations of goalie interference notwithstanding (seriously Gord. Go away. Your homerism and ability to rehash the same fucking replay through five minutes of ensuing on-ice action is infuriating on levels I had no idea existed). So...um...I hear that Elliott kid might be pretty good eh?


• NHL schedule makers. Tonight's game against the Rangers will be the Sens' seventh game in eleven days. While I'm sure this can't be a concerted plot by the League to wear our boys out in order to ensure an all-American Final (never too early to haul out the conspiracy theories), the front loaded schedule can only mean that we can look forward to looooong stretches in February and March where we Sens fans will be forced to actually interact with our families because there are no games. Things could be worse, I guess. We could always be forced to play overseas. Wait, what??
  

Creamy Middle: Oddly enough, this loss could be good for the team. They had run their record to 5-0 despite not having played very well in four of those. Getting spanked by an opponent with comparable skill should probably, hopefully, keep the boys from getting too complacent. And remember kids, last year at this time we were 2-4-1 and the sky was falling. And that season didn't turn out too badly.

Up Next: The rematch against the Rangers. Again, no t.v. tonight, so I can only drink more beer than humanely possible, watch Sid The Kid sodomize the Leafs and look forward to a rather important match next Thursday involving Les Habitants, and apparently, pantsless mascots. (More, much more, on this later).

There's Always Room For Bat Boy!

People of Ottawa, this is your Mayor. This is your Mayor on drugs. Any Questions?

Of Glory! Of Victory! Of Near Head-On Collisions!

Why do we cheer? Why do we invest so much time, money and above all, emotion in what, for all intents and purposes, is a simple game played by others for their own benefit? It can't be for the players themselves. We don't know them, as much as we pretend to. We've never met them except in autograph lines, or perhaps at rare sightings at local restaurants. We know that the faces will change from one year to the next, whether because of free agency, the pursuit of bigger paycheques, or by our own actions (all of you who bellowed that the Captain should be traded back in November, please raise your hand).

So why is it that when they win, we are lifted along with them, in paroxysms of joy and ecstasy? And when they lose, we mope and grouse, devastated, through our day to day lives until the moment our heroes win again, thereby cleansing the sour taste of defeat, putting a spring in our step and a smile on our face. We are fully aware, that our own actions, thoughts and even prayers have absolutely no impact whatsoever over what happens between two teams. And yet we continue to wear our lucky socks, don the jerseys, engage in countless rituals, meaningless though they are, in order to ensure victory. It's irrational. We know it's irrational. And yet we do it. Why?

These are the thoughts that occurred to me when Alfie scored. Well, a little while later, really. At the moment Alfie scored, my wife and I were on our way to Ottawa and a long planned dinner date with our best friends. Having watched the entire game at home, I was forced to choose between standing up our friends, thereby incurring the scorn and calumny of my beloved, and watching what could be a multiple overtimes at home. Guess which option I picked?

As we made our way up Highway 31, the game on the radio, Alfie delivered me to the promised land. I yelled, I honked, I yelled some more. I swerved into the oncoming lane. My wife yelled. I yelled a little less and concentrated on what the hell I was doing. My wife yelled a little less. But as we got closer to Ottawa, oncoming traffic began honking at us, having noticed the flags flying from our windows. Soon, we were sitting at stop lights with complete strangers, honking and screaming at each other. Go Sens! All the Way BAYYYYBEEE!! WOOOOO! And I began to wonder a little bit, why? Why am I so goddamn happy because our professional athletes beat another city's professional athletes? Why?

Every first year sports psychology student worth his or her tuition will answer by citing things like "tribalism" and the comfort we find in a "community of the like minded" or, Heaven help us, by falling back on the tired cliche about how we, as fans (from the root fanatic after all) are somehow reliving, vicariously through mercenary athletes, the glory that escaped us in our own minor league youth, be it on the ice or the football field or baseball diamond.

And guess what? I have come to realize that I don't care right now. That's for the After. I don't care about what primeval motivations may be lurking in my reptilian brain. I'll examine those a little closer in the After. The Ottawa Senators are in the Stanley Cup Finals. MY Ottawa Senators are in the Stanley Cup Finals. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to stop my wife from washing my lucky socks.

Time To Get Your Dingo Monkey Crank On Ottawa!

One to go. One win from the promised land. It is a truly wonderous time to be a Senators fan. Sabres fan? Not so much. From Sabre Report:

"And, at this point, if you haven’t shown up for the first 3 games guys, don’t show up for the 4th. Save everyone a little time and money and let us get back to our lives. I think I’ll be madder at them if they actually win game 4 at this point than if they lose it."

Oddly enough, and precisely because I've been a Sens fan from the very beginning (well, 92-93...1932 is a little fuzzy but I do admire the snazzy threads), I can totally sympathize with the Buffalites. After all, we fairly wrote the book on the terrific-season/suck-moose-cock-come-playoffs.

"The truth is that this team got okay with losing and not working somewhere around January. What happened this week was the comeuppance for 4 months worth of bad habits, and we get to choke on it all summer."

This may not be my place to point this out guys, but, um...there is another game after all. Just sayin...

When I look back on Ottawa's playoff futility of yore, I seem to get particularly hung up on 1999. The reason escapes me, (selective amnesia. YAY!) but whatever the cause, I am suddenly highly aroused at the site of brooms.

Flangerotti!!

Sens and Sabres: Beyond Horrible [SabresReport.com]

Hey, This Interweb Thingy Still Works! Cool!

For the one of you who may stumble across this site from time to time on the way to free Girls Gone Wild thumbnails and wonder where the hell I've been for a week...well, let's just say that working for a living blows, and leave it at that.

Not that I haven't pined for you, dear misled reader. Oh, I have. But things just kept getting in the way. So without being maudlin...and by that I mean without being a seething cauldron of pent up rage and impotence...I will simply say "Oh MAN, the comedic potential of the last week was immense and I MISSED IT!!" and leave it at that. To wit:

• My favorite collumnist, after having his "Sundin is done!" story shot down in flames, came across as the petulent child he is on a guest appearance of TSN's Off The Record (the slouch was particularly funny).

• The New Jersey Devils, after their five game demolition at the hands of the Mighty Gigantic And Magnificent Ottawa Senators (YAY!), immediately began to look forward to next year by pointing fingers at, in order, their future Hall Of Fame goalie, their invisible euro-captain and the Don Corleone/Pillsbury Dough Boy love child himself, who fired the coach with two games to go, and took over. As a distraction to its passionate fan, the club reminded him that it could be worse. They could be moving to Newark. Wait...what?

• Sunday's edition of TSN's The Reporters featured the panel lamenting on the low scoring in this year's playoffs, putting forward so many idiotic ideas (Make the nets bigger! Go to 3-on-3! Spot the Leafs a two goal lead every game!*), I was in serious danger of a stroke brought on by the flood of potential post topics they were generating. Then a thoroughly enjoyable screaming match erupted over the Shane Doan Affair, in which I was fully expecting (and desperately hoping for) a Damian Cox leap across the desk, Jim Everett like, and throttle Simmons all the while screaming "the fucking camera is over THERE DUMBASS!!" Yeah...that would have been sweet.

• Finally...the unstoppable force that is Oleg Suprykin. Buffalo now quakes before him, erecting statues in his honour lest the people anger their new god.

There were many other things that streaked across my consciousness this week, but alas, I was powerless to unleash my inner smart ass by twisting them into empty, barely recognizable, but entirely more entertaining husks of themselves. So much work, so many idiots, so little time.

* May have been fabricated by an imaginative wombat. Maybe. I'll have to ask.

Newark Crime High, Study Says [New York Times]

No surgery for Leafs' Sundin: report [CBC.ca]

Hey Look! It's Bob McKenzie! And He Has A Badly Informed Opinion! Um, Sort Of. Almost. Gosh!

We have seen it a thousand times. A thousand times, from every conceivable angle, in every possible context, computer enhanced, blown up, and digitally mastered. And in every single circumstance, we are left...NAY!...we must come to but one conclusion. There was more than one shooter on the grassy knoll...Wait, what?!?

Now some of you may be aware of the simmering controversy (by which I mean there will be several strongly worded emails in NHL inboxes today from Conswella, the Brodeur's cleaning lady. At least three. Maybe four.) that Tom Preissing's goal last night, which ultimately proved the winner, should not have counted due to goaltender interference committed by Mike Fisher. Of course New Jersey thinks it was, Ottawa doesn't and this fan thinks Marty paid the price for a badly executed dive attempt (pssst...it helps if you fall down...just sayin'...).

Well fret no more children as none other than Robert "The Scottish Don" McKenzie weighs in with the definitive interpretation...sort of...well, maybe not...wouldn't want to risk the whole "Insider" status... Um...ENJOY!

Now based on our own analysis, there could have been a 'no-goal' call based on goaltender interference.

Rule 69.4 of the NHL's rule book states, "If an attacking player initiates any contact with a goalkeeper, other than incidental contact, while the goalkeeper is outside his goal crease, and a goal is scored, the goal will be disallowed."

Now Brodeur was situated with one foot outside his own crease and Fisher was also outside of the crease. The only debate is whether there was incidental or intentional contact. When the referee sees that clearly under normal circumstances, he could blow the whistle and disallow the goal without a penalty because the goalie was simply not able to do his job.

Your honour, please note that the witness says that there "could" have been a no-goal call, not that their "should" have been one. Also, we would like to draw the court's attention that the same scintillating decisiveness is demonstrated by the sentence "he could blow the whistle and disallow the goal...".

But finally, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I ask you to consider the statement that "because the goalie was simply not able to do his job" the goal should not have counted. Are we, ordinary hockey fans, to assume that this and this alone should be a basis to disallow a goal? Well I would submit the following: Ottawa enters the Devils zone on the rush. Mr. Brodeur, without any provocation, strips down to his jock strap, breaks into "Three Little Girls" from "The Mikado" and throws himself at the timekeeper, resulting in a 0.2 second delay in clock operation. The Senators subsequently score on that rush, a rush where the goalie "was simply not able to do his job". Should that goal be called back?

Please examine the tape. Back...and to the left. Back...and to the left. Back...and to the left. This was a goal.

G'night!

What's A Goal, What's Not A Goal [TSN.ca]

Feelin' Easy. Easy Like A Sunday Morning

Alright, we've had a chance to sleep on last night's result and after a brief session with Legal, I've been allowed back to play.

So...what to make of last night? Well, it's not quite the disaster it felt like at the (beer and despair fueled) time. We battled back from 2-0 down to tie it. We probably should have won it in OT but Brodeur stood on his head. A bad bounce off of a Corvo clearing attempt lost it for us. And more importantly, we're coming home with home ice.

The fine gentlemen at Battle Of Ontario (where I spent most of the game on a pretty amusing open thread...I'll recommend it to anyone) keeps it all in perspective.

So, we're okay. For now. Promise.

We Interrupt Your Regularly Scheduled Raving Lunatic

The Running Smart-Assness of the 2nd and 3rd periods will not be available. Unfortunately the author is filled with fear and loathing for what he imagines is about to transpire and the Five For Smiting legal department has deemed a hiatus necessary to mitigate any potential libel issues. We apologize for the inconvenience.

In a completely unrelated note, Five For Smiting would like to offer an apology to Bill McCreary and his family. You are not, in fact, a fuckstick. You are an idiot.

Thank you,

Five For Smiting LLC

Game 2, Period 1 -- We Thank You For Disgracing Our Nation

-- Of the 79 people in the stands in Jersey, a small few are booing the Canadian anthem. Alffie says to self: "Hey, are we were playing this game in Montreal?"

-- Rather pedestrian version of the Star Speckled Banana. Might be because the singer is a fat white guy. C'mon, would it kill ya to go a little Mariah for a bit?

-- I sit corrected. They just mentioned that the game was actually sold out. First sell out this year too. Congrats Swamp Dwellers! Of course you deserve a team...especially one that has won 3 cups in 10 years. Winnipeg is very happy for you.

-- Here we go...

-- Millen mentions Brodeur has a brand new glove. Well I guess he fixed that little 4-goals-to-the-glove-side problem, now didn't he?

-- Goal Jersey on the PP. And we now settle in for three hours of trap hockey...

-- Rayzor does not look sharp...0-8 looms, me thinks. Don't panic. We'll be okay...as long as the beer holds out.

-- Bob Cole keeps referring to Ottawa as "they", but the inflection is hilarious. Kind of like the way your 73 year old aunt refers to gay couple who just moved in next door..."Well, THEY're very affectionate...aren't THEY?" Hey...come to think of it...I think Bob Cole is my 73 year old aunt!

-- Are you fucking kidding me?!?!? Jersey goal with two goddamn TENTHS of a second in the period! SUMBITCH! On a 5-on-3 to boot. A 5-on-3, it should be noted, was the result of an absolute BULL-FUCKING-SHIT!! slashing call on Fisher. Hey McCreary!! Why don't you check with Neil and Volchenkov and their partially severred hands if you want to know what a fucking slash is you fuckstick!

-- Man...I gotta calm down.

Eastern Semi, Game 1, 3rd Period -- Random Thoughts From A Very Nervous Mind

--HEY!! Axe Shower Gel People!! For the VERY last time, I would much rather see Maria do the girl's backside than some greasy fry guy! Get it?!? Um...but keep that Schoolgirl/Beach/Sorority/Poker commercial. That was very, very...er...interesting. And warm.

--GOAL! Redden! Breathing...loosened...bronchial tubes...clearing...acne...remains.

--Where the hell are all the fans?? Hey Lou! There's probably some of those Oscar seat-fillers around and looking for work. Do something would ya? I mean...Jeez...this is just embarrassin'...

--12 minutes left and we are now in Trap Hell. Ottawa to protect a two goal lead...and Jersey, well, mostly because the team has been together so long they don't know how to play any other way. If you listen close you can hear t.v. sets all over the Greater Trenton Area being turned off. And Gary Bettman weeping. You can hear that too. Suhhhweeeeeet....

--8 minutes left. CBC is plugging a soccer game, and then it hits me: Hey,Toronto has a Major League Soccer team!! Well, good for youuuuu!! How adorable. Good luck with that. Really.

--7 minutes to go and Jersey just about scored on an exact replica of Friesen's Game 7 goal in 2003. I sense the Karmic Fates aligning against us. I tell ya, you plop your home arena in ONE Indian burial ground...I mean...C'MON! We said we're sorry!!

--5 minutes to go. I would probably buy one of those And-And-AND Bars...but then again, I'm just a 36 year old brainwashed by corporate whores for most of his --WHERE'S THE BEEF!!--life.

--4:30 left. Just saw an update: San Jose is beating Detroit 2-0, in Hockeytown. The Wings equipement guys have locked Stevie Y in a closet to keep him from getting on the ice. "Dammit Steve, when the Wings retire a number, they fucking MEAN it!!"

--1:25 left. Time out Jersey, Brodeur on the bench. Reminded of Bowser And Blue. What does a Canadian call choking the chicken? Pulling the goalie.

--29.2 seconds...Goal Jersey. Oh. My. Fucking. God. This is NOT happening. 5-4 Sens.

--0:06...faceoff outside Jersey line. Spezz wins it.

--Aaaaaannnnd....scene! Jebus-Jumped-Upped Christ on a side car. WAY closer than that had any right to be...and yet, oddly anti-climactic. We're up 1-0 in the series, taken home ice away, and can expect to get right clobbered in game two on Saturday.

With that, I will bid you a good evening. I'll get my head around almost blowing a four goal lead, I'll google some funny (and very offensive) reference material involving New Jersey/Trenton/the Mafia and/or Lou Lamiarello and be back tomorrow. Big picture kids...5 wins. 11 to go.

G'Night!

Well This Is Obviously Don Cherry's Fault. Right? Am I Right People?

This is actually my fourth attempt at this post. It was 4-0 and we were flying high! Then it was 4-3 and we were sinking low. The Lucifers (yeah, I know, pretty lame. I'll try to do better before the end of the series) pressed and pressed but the second ended at that same 4-3 score. So after the high and the low, we settled for the creamy middle.

As I catch my breath, nervously awaiting the third (and flipping through my rolodex for Crazy Voodoo Priestess Woman...oh, we're not finished yet Brodeur. Oh no. Not by a long shot. You and me.), I go through the first two periods in my head, looking for the turning point. Where was the spark that got Jersey going? And then it hits me: Don Cherry said the game was over. After the first period.

So, the inevitable conclusion here, is that if we lose, it's the Leafs fault!

I knew it! See you after the game. I hope. Unless the Leafs get to me first...

Death March Of The Penguins.

When game time rolled around, roughly 3 hours ago now, we debated whether we should do a quasi-live post on this game, as we did for 3 of the first 4 games. After much soul searching, and a beverage or three, it was decided that it would not be a good idea. Not because of any obvious biases which would be inherent in the posts themselves (Biased? Fuck yeah!), but because the range of emotion on this end would be impossible to articulate and thus, pretty goddamned boring.

But now the game is done. The Senators are through to the second round. That is a lovely turn of phrase...try it for yourself. The Senators are through to the second round. And the best news of all? Of the remaining Eastern teams, the only one the Senators are guaranteed not to meet in Round 2 is the team that poses the biggest threat: Buffalo (thank you Rangers).

And so we will spend the next few days basking in the glow of a series win and the salivating possibilities of the weeks ahead. Personally, we're kind of hoping for a series against the Rangers, if only to find a use for 671 boxes of Jello.

And we bid a fond farewell to the Happy Feets. Rest assured your day will come, but you'll need to pay a much higher price if you want to succeed. Ottawa has paid that price. It's our year, at least until the next round.

G'Night!

Whither Mellon??

And now we leave the Steel City, and its quaint little rink, with a sweep in our pocket and a 3-1 series lead. All things considered, we are happy. There is a certain peace in the universe when one's predictions come to pass. Well, at least allmost. And to our pre-teen friends at ThePensblog...While you may think us "FAGS!!", you have that right. But bare in mind...these fags are going to the second round.

G'Night!

2nd Period -- In Which We Secretly Pine For The Dulcet Tones Of Don Chevrier

-- Right off the start, pp for the Feets. Not much happens. Holy CRAP does Malkin look like a lost waif. This message brought to you by the Alexei Yashin School of Playoff Performance.

-- Oh-oh!! That reminds me: Note to self: tomorrow, do that Yashin post you've been mulling over. Or some time this week.

-- Crosby just can't skate. So naturally this results in an Ottawa penalty. Anybody else getting tired of this??

-- Oh dear Lord, Cole is singing the Senators praises. Surely Armageddon can't be far behind.

-- Ottawa still isn't HITTING!! C'mon Bryan!! BRASSE TA GANG!!! Um...that's French BTW.

-- 8:08 Goal Feets. Staal with an assist to the Anti-Christ. Inevitable. Too many guys standing around Emery, not enough Feets on their respective asses. Second time in two games Roberts feeds Redden his lunch. Yet, we do not despair. Yet.

-- I do believe Bob Cole just said that Don Cherry is in love with an 18 year old boy. CBC adds another 7 seconds to the delay.

-- Pace is absolutely nuts! Acid reflux kicking in...Can barely handle...crowd absolutely bugshit loud...YeathoughIwalkinthevalleyoftheshadowofdeath...

-- Jesus H KeeeeeRISTE! After about 4 minutes of end-to-end, Ottawa gives up a PP. Man, this is playoff hockey folks! Not sure I can take this...

-- End of the 2nd. Feets are on the PP, thanks to an Oscar worthy performance by Jordan Staal. Apparently the Sydney Crosby-head snap back-big "OW"-on-your-face method of penalty encouragement is catching on. Ahem...I promised I wouldn't. I promised I wouldn't descend to Pensblog levels...and I won't.

So...a moment to collect ourselves...a moment to ogle the Sunshine girl perhaps...and we'll be back after the game.

--

1st Period -- In Which Our Intrepid Hero Declares -- Mmmmm...Pizza Good!

-- Canadian Anthem...didn't...suck...cool! And no booing. Thanks Pittsburgh. We'll put our tanks away now.

-- Full marks to the crowd. On Emery right from the start..."Let's Go Pens!!"...Excellent. They realize the importance of this game. Very well done grasshopper...a worthy opponent (author reserves right to be less magnanimous as evening progresses).

-- GOOOOOOAAAAAAAL!!! 3:25 of the first. Spezza of the half-boards on the PP. Wait...under review?? WTF?!?!

-- It's a goal kids. Let us celebrate by adding pizza to wine.

-- Wow. Philips just blew on Malkin to knock him off the puck. Literally. Blew on him. I even saw Chris purse his lips and blllloooow. Soft as ice cream, that boy.

-- PP to Ottawa. Hilarious sequence on HNIC where Bob Cole called it on the wrong team, then had no clue if a penalty was going to be called, then expressed bewilderment upon noticing the ref had his arm up. Stellar work Bob! There isn't a 70 year old Newfie alive who could do better!

-- WHEEE! Charging against Ruutu...on his own guy! Brilliant!

-- Crosby flops and flails and carries on. No call. High dudgeon at the Mellon (Seriously. Can't find a better naming sponspor?)

-- Ottawa has stopped hitting. This seems to be contradictory to a winning strategy. In other words: HIT THE BASTARDS UNTIL THEY CRY FOR THEIR MOMMIES! I mean JESUS! These guys are 12! How hard can it be?!?! Ahem...I mean...perhaps a re-think is in order.

-- Crosby falls on contact (as usual), Malkin runs Emery, Roberts yaps off to everybody. We're gettin' spicy...and angry. But mostly spicy.

-- End of the 1st, 1-0 Sens. Momentum hangs in a precarious balance. And the Author needs to visit the rest room.

Enjoy the Don and we'll see you after the 2nd!

3rd Period -- In Which We Wish ThePensblog A Fond Adieu. Do Let Us Know When You Post Something Other Than "You're a FAG!"

-- 3rd underway, and the Feets are finished. They look finished, they feel finished. If it walks like a flightless bird...

-- Just noticed the graphic in the ice at Mellon. "Greatest Fans In Hockey!" Um...is that why there are suddenly a lot of empty seats in the lower bowl 7 minutes into the period? What, they're all up in Mario's box offering salary cap advice? Leafing through "Scenic Kansas City" brochures? What? Enquiring minds need to know!!

-- Millen bringing up an Ottawa choke job angainst the Feets during the regular season. Thanks. Thanks loads. Jerk.

-- A small piece of advice to the Greatest Fans In Hockey. When one of your boys falls down, you don't necessarily need to scream for a penalty. Sometimes...people just...fall down. I know! I had trouble with that too. It's o.k.

-- A-Train on Orpik! BEEEEAUTY! Orpik seems a little sore. Schubert in the box, don't know why, but p.p. for the Feets.

-- WHEEE!! Alffie levels Roberts! There's a NEW Order now old man! I find myself curiously aroused...

-- Rugby scrum in front of the Sens bench. Chris Neil chewing through the boards...Memories over how the Feets gooned it up on the Thursday before the playoffs are stirred. We may not be done after all.

-- Goal. Happy Feets. Crosby, sliding on his back. Have to admit, it's pretty. And in a few years he is going to be one dangerous hombre. But not tonight. Please God, not tonight, not again.

--4:30 to go. Crowd's awake again. Looks like the party in Mario's box has broken up.

-- Schubert creams Scuderi...it was questionable to say the least. Feets on the p.p., 3:00ish to go. We grow very very concerned.

-- Ooops. Should have known better than to listen to Bob Cole. Whitby gets two for going after Schu, so we're 4 on 4. Less concerned. Feets have pulled MAF.

-- Frantic around the Rayzor. Whistle with a minute ish to go. Malkin loses his freakin' head! Tsk-tsk. Such a temper in one so young. Philips and Malkin off on coincidentals. I'll take that trade.

-- Pittsburgh calls time out with 1:17 to go. My god, I swear if Sydney whined anymore than he does, people would start calling the SPCA over an abused animal.

-- AAAAAnd we're done. Game's over, Senators win (YAY!!), home ice is back where it belongs and all is well with the world. I'll absorb this win tonight, go spend some time with my beautiful wife and expound on the meaning of it all tomorrow. HUZZAH!! And Gary Roberts still SUCKS!

G'night!

1st Period...In Which John Muckler Begins To Re-Think The Month of March

-- 19:08 -- Guess who? 52 seconds in. Perfect. Followed by the 1st "Please do not throw anything on the ice" warning. You'd think the fans would be less...destructive, after going without the playoffs for so long. 1-0 Feets.

-- Emery looking a little shaky. Focus Ray...what would Mike Tyson do??

-- Well, hitting is picking up so at least there's that. I mean Roberts has gotta realize eventually that his 453 years old and self combust, right? Sooner or later, it has to happen, eh? RIGHT?!?!

-- 12:52 -- First Crosby whine to the referee. And I am further convinced that Ruutu is the illegitimate offspring of Diane Fossey and one of her "favourite" gorillas.

-- 12:22 -- First Ottawa powerplay. Mario is not amused. You really can't buy good help anymore.

-- One shot. One lousy shot on the PP. Nice to see brilliant coaching in action.

-- 8:35 -- Second Ottawa powerplay following a pretty good scramble in front of MAF. Ottawa bench furiously attempting to decline. Informed that this is not, in fact, a football game. 78 fans leave with Terrible Towels tucked between their legs.

-- Heatley cross-check to negate the pp. He was just demonstrating to his slower line mates, how body contact actually works. You know guys, you are allowed to hit somebody. Just sayin'...

-- Bullshit call on Fisher for "holding" on Recchi. Much whining from the Feets bench. "You Must Be THIS Old To Take This Dive". Hmmm...must have missed the sign.

-- GOALL!!! 1:56 to go!! Crash the net, MAF can't control the rebound, Preissing gets pushed in, howls of outrage from crowd. My humble advice? Read a rule book fucksticks. Oops...sorry, I promised my wife I'd be nice today... Tie game 1-1.

-- Phew. End of the 1st. Quick impressions? Sens weather the 1st 5 minutes of the Feets' natural high about playing at home. And again, for the rest of the period, the Feets do nothing to convince me they're the better team. That said, Emery still looks pretty shaky. Oh...and apparently, there are precisely zero hot women in Pittsburgh. C'mon Camera Dude! Get with it!

Don's comin' up, gettin all Canucklehead on your ass... See you after the second!

From Those Who Should Know Better But Yet Insist On Being Mocked By A Monkey

Not sure yet if TSN is bringing back Maggie the Monkey or if they’ve relegated her to the same place Kerry Fraser’s hair went to retire but here’s a round up of learned opinions from around the hockey world about the Sens/Pens series…

“Sens/Pens”…Man, is THAT going to get old fast…

CBC: Lays natural Toronto bias aside and beseeches the Ratings Gods: Ottawa in 6.

FoxSports: Al Strachan, finally acknowledging that he is the love child of Don Cherry and Lester Patrick, picks Ottawa in 7

ESPN: Showing typical ESPN decisiveness, Scott Burnside says Ottawa in 5, while John Buccigross picks Flightless Birds in 6. Paul Martin smiles in approval.

Deadspin: The NHL has a team in Pittsburgh??

Five For Smiting: Sydney Crosby whines himself into Intensive Care and Gary Roberts finally comes to his senses and quits in the middle of game 3 to become a rodeo clown. Ottawa in 6

No Playoffs for Kerry [TSN.ca]

Cry “HAVOC!”, And Let Slip The Dogs Of War!

And now, the real season. The little boys have taken their toys home to Mommy, leaving the field of battle to their betters. The greatest prize in all of Sport awaits the victor. It will sit patiently, waiting, as it has for 108 years. It will wait to see who can meet its only demand. 16 wins. 16 wins bought and paid for in blood, sweat, teeth, heart, soul and tears. That is all it asks. And yet it will demand more than 15 teams have to give. Only one team can remain standing at the end. Only one will have earned the right to call themselves “Champions”. This is why we watch. This is why we love and this is why we cheer.

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition:
And gentlemen in Canada now a-bed
Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Stanley's day.

With apologies to the Bard, it's Playoff time. Now let’s get it on.

Why Yes, Now That You Mention It. I Do Believe It IS Go Time.

I wasn't going to do this tonight, I really wasn't. I had settled in to watch the Ottawa/Pittsburgh game with nothing but sugarplums and easter bunnies dancing in my head. First evening of a 4 day week-end. I had the beer. I had the snacks. I had the mellow. Honestly, I did.

I didn't expect to hate the Penguins as quickly as I have come to hate the Penguins. They seemed like such a nice group of young men, well Gary Roberts notwithstanding -- LEAFS SUCK!! (um, sorry, force of habit. More of a reflex really).

Anyway, they did seem nice, if a little immature. The teams would play tonight, the Senators would win, the first round of the playoffs would therefore be set and over the next three weeks, the Senators would kindly, yet sternly school the youngsters from the Steel City on playoff pain and disappointment in say...5 games. Sorry lads, nothing personal you understand. We have bigger things to do, better goalies to fry. Better luck next time, wot, wot, and firm, respectful handshakes all around.

Well all of that was before tonight's 1st period. Before Colby Armstrong attempted to take Emery's spleen out with a blatant charge. Before Christian Ruutu goaded Jason Spezza (Spezza!!) into 7 minutes of penalties with a flying elbow to the head in the corner, then dropping like the European soccer pussy he is when Spez bopped him with a well deserved shot to the schnozz. Before Snivelling Sydney Crosby gave Christoph Schubert a (unpenalized) cross-check to the kidneys after Schubert happened to touch His Tightness after a whistle. Oh yes, that was before all of that.

We are now about to go into the second period. I now officially hate the Pittsburgh Penguins. Messages will continue to be sent. Scores will be kept, and numbers will be taken. I will be back after the 2nd. I have an idea. An AWFUL idea. A WONDERFUL AWFUL idea.