Sens 3, Slugs 1: Kerry Fraser Can Suck It

Thirteen Buffalo power plays. Roughly five of which were deserved. Until tonight, I had no idea a triple minor was even possible.

So what does that tell us? First: Since they made him put on a helmet, Kerry Fraser has decided to use his whistle to maintain his centre-of-the-universe status. Second? Next time Gator should just say "Fuck it" and break Koleta in half.

No time for a full recap as we're right back at it tomorrow night against the Flyers and I really have to go to bed. After all, this is a school night and Her Majesty demands my full attention come morning. Look for a special, combined Creamy Middle on Friday, chalk full of ranty goodness.

In the meantime Sens fans, just for fun, look back on the last four games and ask yourselves "What if?"

Sens 3, Slugs 2 (SO): From The Top Everybody!

Happy days are here again
The skies above are clear again
So lets sing a song of cheer again
Happy days are here again

Altogether shout it now
There's no one
Who can doubt it now
So lets tell the world about it now
Happy days are here again

The Highs:

• Time to give the Grasshopper some love! Or at least a better nickname: We've had The Sieve (Lalime), The Dominator, Rayzor, Darth Gerber/Swiss Pastry. Now, after committing grand larceny on a suddenly-all-alone Dan Ellis in the opening minutes and standing on his head in the shootout, Brian Elliot needs a nickname befitting of his status as "Saviour from The Suck". Thankfully for us, neither his first nor last name lends well to just tacking on a "y" and calling it a day. Although..."I'm feeling very Elliot-y. In the pants." Yeah, that could work.
  

• Haven't you heard? It's the new black: One of the more heartening things to come about as a result of The Bryan's bloodless purge, is the new regime's insistence that its a hell of a lot easier putting a three inch wide rubber disk into a twenty-four square foot space if said disk is somewhere within the vicinity of said space. The boys fired forty-two (42!) shots on goal last night, from everywhere and anywhere. They're not booing...they're saying SHOOOOOT!!
  

• We now pause for a special tribute to Jarkko's face: Gotta hand it to you Roto, you certainly took...um...several for the team. If it weren't for your ability to slam your mouth into various bits of Adam Mair's equipment (stick, glove), Little Nicky never would have had an opportunity to open the scoring on the powerplay. And leaving the blood from the previous (uncalled) high-stick in hopes of convincing the referee that it should have been a double minor? Why, that's just gold. By the way, did Adam want to talk to you in hallway again? Just wondering.
  

The Low:

• They're thawing Andrew Peters out as we speak: Tough break for Neiler. A nothing hit at the second period buzzer, quite possibly the softest he has ever thrown in a Senators uniform, results in a yelp, much grimacing and a painful hop, skip and a limp into the dressing room. Although everyone who saw it knows it's the same knee that caused him to miss six games earlier this year, thanks to the league's charmingly opaque injury reports, we are told he is suffering from a "lower body injury". Just once I'd love to see an honest report: "Tucker, Darcy -- Syphilis/Gangrene. Status: Karmic". Now that's not too much to ask, is it?
  

Pithy Observation of Questionable Importance:

In the pre-game intros, Eliot Friedman gave a shout-out to Greg "the excellent Puck Daddy" Wyshynski for this piece on Chris Pronger's possible new destinations, come the Deadline (Boston? Really? God help us). Why do I bring this up? Well, let's play Six Degrees for a moment, shall we?

A few days after I wrote this, Greg was kind enough to roll it into his Deadspin NHL Closer (he also has a comment somewhere on this site, but I'll be damned if I can find it). Greg gets the love from Eliot Friedman. Eliot Friedman works for the CBC. The CBC once employed a fine play-by-play man in the form of Chris Cuthbert. Chris Cuthbert's daughter is a celebrity hockey fan of some repute. So you obviously know what this means. Restraining orders be damned; I am this close to engaging in sexual congress with Elisha Cuthbert.

The Creamy Middle:

We finally won in a shootout! That's good! We blew a two goal lead. That's bad. The new coach seems to have lit a fire under the complacent asses of most of the team! That's good! There seems to be one notable exception and he wears #19. That's bad. We're starting to hit again! That's good! We lost our best hitter and only bona fide fighter. That's bad. We don't know if he'll be in the line up for Roto's first game in Buffalo since...the incident. If you're Roto, that's really, really bad. And the boys are finally starting to play the way we've always wanted them to and have always known they could, but either refused or were too uptight/confused/lazy to do so under Coach Craig. That's good! There's still no chance in hell we're making the playoffs. That's...Meh.

Up Next:

As mentioned, Wednesday night in that monument to what the Artsy Classes refer to as "Post Industrial Armageddon", Buffalo. And the boys had better buckle up. As we're enjoying Roto's first game in The Queen City since the Nibble in New York, remember the maxim "Ruff at home, Lindy on the road." Last night was the "Lindy" part. We're about to get a front row seat for the other one.

Behind Enemy Lines:

We're going back to the well on this, and reacquainting you with Sabre Kallisions. Why? Not only is Dani one of the funniest and well written young ladies on these here tubes but also because she's too nice to gloat too much after Peters pounds Roto into a puddle of ground Finn, come Wednesday night. That's why.

Update: It would appear that Neiler's injury was a bit more serious than "just the knee" as a lacerated right calf will keep him out indefinitely. So...yeah. You're on your own Roto. Good luck with that.

Glove tap to The 6th Sens for raising the question: Is this the last of Neiler?

Slugs 4, Sens 2: You Want Fries With That?

Hey, why is that man jumping up and down like that? And swearing? A lot? Oh...Oh, no. No, no, no! Oh, no! Bad, bad Ruut! Oh, wicked, wicked Ruut! Oh, wicked, bad, naughty, evil Ruut! You are a bad person and must pay the penalty! Naughty, evil, bad Ruut! Lucky for us (but especially for you), you didn't have to pay it last night.

The Highs:

• Is it Giggles Finally Shows Up Night already?: Fantastic job, Jason. You played hard, kept your asshat turnovers (just) below your maximum allowable quota of three, potted a couple of goals and I do believe I even saw a back check or two. Well played. So, looking at the schedule...let's see here. Boston...no, too soon. Rangers? Hmm...doubt it. Carolina? Maybe. Ah! Here it is. Atlanta. See you again on the 14th!
  

• The Bell tolls for thee: Holy crap, Brendan. I didn't know you had the wheels! Everytime I looked up, there you were, jumping up into the rush or banging down low on the cycle. Looks like your little stint in yonder press box has served you well. If you would kindly tell me where the hell THAT Brendan Bell has been for the last three months and promise to bring him back, I'll overlook the fact that the Buffaslugs first goal (15 seconds in) was the direct result of you pissing your pants and coughing up the puck in our own zone rather than take the hit to make the play.
  

The Lows:

• Remember kids, speed kills!: Now, I don't mean to alarm anyone, but our defence is rather, shall we say, disadvantaged in the velocity department. A tad pedantic, if you will (not that this should come as a shock to either of you...*ahem*). But not until I saw the Slugs' speedy little rat fink forwards (hello, Mr. Roy) torch our D to the outside time and time again, or watched GATOR, of all people, get eaten alive by Drew Stafford on Buffalo's second goal, did I come to the full realization of how utterly, brutally, excerably slow we really are. Coincidentally, it was at this point that I also came to the full realization that I'll have to drink more if I'm to survive this season. A lot more.
  

• Nice idea. Execution? Not so much: Mister Neil, front and centre if you please. Here is your pencil. Here is your empty pad of lined paper. You will write this down precisely 1000 times. "I will not kill my own team's 3-on-1 by attempting to goad Andrew Peters into a fight one hundred feet away". Now, into the hallway with you.
  

• Okay, for realz this time: If that great sage and eminent psychopath Mike Tyson has taught us anything, it's that it really isn't sporting to gnaw on an opponent's extremities. In other words, Roto, biting another player is about as chicken shit a move as can be imagined (YA HEARD ME SWEDEN!). By your own admission, there is a line. You crossed it. It is only by the grace of the officials' natural incompetence that you weren't thrown out of the game right then and there. And it is only by the grace of God and Jason's two ensuing goals that you weren't mashed into a bloody pulp by the end of the second. I would invite you to ponder, over the next two games, why exactly I, Senator die hard that I am, wouldn't have minded in the least had that actually happened.
  

The Creamy Middle:

If you ever needed an infuriating example of how unfair it would be to make Coach Craig the fall guy for this pile-of-shit season, this game was it. The boys proved to me what I already knew. We can play with anybody, anyway they want, anytime. But, as has been the case for the last three coaches and twelve freaking months, that only lasted for about ten minutes. With few exceptions, the rest of the game was the same litany of disorganization, bad passes, lazy defensive zone coverage and the general "I look like I'm skating hard but I really can't be bothered to give a rat's ass" we've all become accustomed to. That's not a coaching problem, folks.

Pithy Observations of Questionable Importance:

• Now go away, or I shall taunt you a second time!: Someday, if I can ever sneak past security, I'd like to ask the fans who pay two hundred bucks a ticket to sit in the first row why, exactly, they feel compelled to pound on the glass whenever the players are mucking it up along the boards within their vicinity. Seriously. Do they just want attention, or do they honestly think that by so doing the resulting cacophony will cause visiting forwards to get so distracted that they abandon the puck to the home team? "AAAAH!! He's banging on plexiglass!! And he has...POPCORN!!! AAAAH!"
  

• Be careful. Music leads to dancing. And dancing leads to touching: I'm happy for you, Mike. I really am (you let her wear your pin and varsity jacket?!? Swell!!). But, um...at the risk of being indellicate, I gotta tell ya...considering your performance since you hooked up last March, her abilities as a slumpbuster are in some doubt. Then again, as she is impossibly hot, all is forgiven. And besides, thanks to you, I get to Google pictures like this:

Up Next:

Sweet merciful crap. Our ever so successful road odyssey continues tomorrow night against the Bruins. Not since the days of Orr, Esposito, Cheevers and Park have the Boston bears been this scary good. I'll leave you to ponder the inevitable massacre as I silently curse John Muckler, Zdeno Chara and Peter Chiarelli.

Behind Enemy Lines:

Do you like hockey? Do you like...er...seafood?? If the answer to either of those questions is "YES!" (and why wouldn't it be), then make your way to Stanley Cup of Chowder! Ah...I remember what it was like blogging about a good hockey team. Yeah. Good times.

Sens 5, Sabres 2: Well I'll Be Buggered...

At about 9:20 last night I flipped from the World Series of Mud Wrestling (aside: Tim McCarver in HD frightens me...deeply) to TSN for a little MNF goodness, and what to my startled eyes should appear in the crawl at the bottom of the screen? Senators 5, Sabres 0. Holy. Florking. Shnitz.

Convinced I had misread that, I stayed up to watch SportsCentre, and whaddya know...we won. Three points (2 goals, 1 assist) for Giggles, two (1 and 1) for Heater, 2 assists for The Captain and a goal for Schubie Doo to boot! (Aside #2: If that doesn't keep #5 in the line up, Coach, you and I will have issues).

Added bonus? Adam Mair losing his mind:

OCALA, Fla. — Expect to see Adam Mair get the book thrown at him by the NHL. A league official confirmed to Sun Media today that the league is reviewing the incident of Mair marching down the hallway late in the Senators' 5-2 victory at the HSBC Arena to try to get Ottawa winger Chris Neil.

It should be noted that I didn't see the original unpleasantness that led to Mr. Mair's willingness to fork over his next game cheque or three (screw you and your overpriced channel, NHL Network!) so I'm a little hesitant, for once, to editorialize. Suffice to say though, anytime Neiler can infuriate an opponent into a confrontation in which Jarkko Ruutu stands as the voice of reason, he's earned his money...and made most of my special places tingle.

The best part? Neiler wasn't even in the room.

Neil and Mair had both been thrown out of the game at the time of the incident, but Neil wasn't in the club's dressing room yet.

See Buffalo? This is why you can't have nice things.

Up Next:

Thursday night, the boys are in that hockey hotbed of Miami, Florida for a rematch with the Tabby Cats. Ordinarily, I'd mention the local t.v. coverage at this point. But there isn't any. Again. Nope, nothing available but...you guessed it...the NHL Network. I swear by all that is holy, Gary, if you make me pine for the days of A-Channel and Gord Wilson, I will cut you.

Behind Enemy Lines:

Welcome to The Litter Box. Fantastic name, and a very informed read. There may be hope for that market yet, no matter what Winnipeg says.

Sabres 3, Sens 2 (SO) -- SWEET MERCIFUL CRAP!

Did you ever wonder who discovered milk? Seriously, think about it. Who was the first guy to look at a cow and say to himself "Well, I'll just squeeze these dangly bits here and see what happens. Then maybe...oh I don't know...maybe I'll drink whatever comes out of them." Did you ever wonder that? No? Well I do. I think about stuff like that all the time, pretty much whenever I feel the need for a distraction. During meetings. On long drives. Post coitus. Whatever. I also think of things like that when I'm watching excruciatingly dull yet incredibly frustrating hockey games. I have no idea what made me think of that...

The Highs:

• Searching for Bobby Mike Fisher...There he is! Always the last place you look: Welcome back Mickey! Two goals to break a two-fer-twenty-eight game scoreless streak means that the suicide pass you dished to Stillman early in the first, almost getting him killed in the process, is forgiven. Besides, I could never stay mad at you, ya big lug. Whoops...my man crush is showing.

• And lo, a child shall...um...not completely fuck it up: Yo, Brian! 'SsssUP...er...DUDE? Yeah, that's it. I think that's what the kids are doing these days. Now, your second game wasn't as strong as your first, but that's okay. And really, whose is? Ask Beloved. But you still played better than Reds has on most nights this season, trust me. But a small bit of advice, if I may: you might want to lay off creaming opposing (veteran!) tough guys into the boards from behind, especially when one considers that you look like the kid who bags my groceries. It's for your own safety. You'll thank me for it later.
  

• Dost mine eyes deceive me?!?: A hearty congratulations to Andrej Meszaros (No, really!) for coming to Alfie's defence by absolutely leveling the Sabre player (whose name escapes me at the moment) who had the temerity to face wash The Captain following a goal mouth scramble. True, it was a bit of a blind side hit...and it was late...and it was the most body contact I've seen you involved in all season...but in a game like this, I'll grasp at just about any straw for something positive. Ugh...I have to go take a shower now.

The Lows:

• *Sigh*...we'll have to start all over again with the Electrical College: The pre-game talking heads made much hay with the fact that the Sens had spent the majority of that morning practice concentrating on "defensive responsibilities". So what happens? A Keystone Kops routine in front of our net leads to Buffalo opening the scoring (I'm pretty sure all five of our fearless heroes took a swing at the puck, but I'll need to check the replay) and the tying goal comes with Christon Philichenkov playing "no, you take it" in front of a sprawling Gerber, who had already slid halfway to Geneva. So...how'd that work out for ya, boys?

• In goal, for YOUR Ottawa Senators...Mister Super Fantastic Trampoline Guy!: Speaking of whom...You're doing it again Martin. It's what got you benched last year, and what lost you the starting job back in December. Rebounds. Crazy ass rebounds followed by you letting yourself get out of position. It's simple really. Stand up. Top of the paint. Face the shooter. Stop the puck. Now you try.

Creamy Middle:

For a team playing for its playoff life, the Sabres came out absolutely flat, and we should have buried them, early and often, then salted the earth, laid a wreath and been happily on our merry way to the first round. But we didn't (shots on goal after the 1st period? 18-9 Buffalo. 18!!) and we paid the price. And now, I find myself wracking my brains, trying to remember the last time, other than '97 that is, when we hadn't clinched a playoff spot with a scant four games to go. And unless The Bryan has a magic "Defence" elixir stashed away somewhere, we won't see the end of April, even if we do get in. And on that happy thought, I'm going to continue drinking...

Up Next:

If you thought the boys were lethargic last night, just wait until tomorrow, when we play a desperate Bruins team, in Boston, at one o'clock in the afternoon. We'll be lucky if the boys don't take their afternoon naps right on the bench. Oh, THAT's right! We won't get to see it! And why not? Well let me tell you...and I want to make myself perfectly clear here, removing all ambiguity lest my words be open to misinterpretation...*ahem*...SOME PENCIL NECKED CBC COCK KNOCKING FUCKSTICK DECIDED THAT WE DON'T WANT TO SEE LATE SEASON GAMES AND DECIDED NOT TO TELEVISE IT! I'm looking at you Nancy Lee. Stupid, hockey hating, bi-- La-la-la-la-la...I'm okay, now...La-la-la-la. Yep, right as rain. FUCK!

Behind Enemy Lines:

I had hoped to find a Bruins blog that offered a game thread, if only to allow me the opportunity to punch the "refresh" key for three hours while screaming at my monitor...since, you know...I can't actually see the game (Fuck you Nancy! You goddamned, pig-headed...no...easy...deep breaths...musn't lose...AAAAAARGH!!), but alas I couldn't. So I'm happy to direct you to The Old Bruins Fan. Nothing fancy, just good, solid hockey talk with none of the panic that someone blogging about a team 2 points out of ninth should espouse. I have to admire that. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to write a very strongly worded letter.

Sens 6, Sabres 3 -- Well, At Least We Didn't Spot Them Six

My New York Times Overlords have once again tapped the hockey blogosphere to find out what the eminent scribes from those teams on the playoff bubble are feeling. They didn't come to me. Either they have more confidence in the Senators then I do, or they know something I don't and are just trying to spare my feelings. I haven't decided yet.

The Highs:

• 29 teams petition League to reduce game to 40 minutes: Five against the Habs. Five against the Sabres. All scored in the third period. Now about those first two...

• And lo, a child shall lead them: Brian Lee. Remember that name, because he'll be starting on the blue line coming out of camp next year. First ever big league game? No sweat. All he did tonight was be the most reliable defenceman we've seen since...oh...November. Scored his first point...sure, it was an assist on an empty net goal, but still. Earned himself some time on the power play too. And did I mention he saved a goal by kicking a Buffalo shot off the goal line? Oh, and that he repeatedly put Sabres players on their asses the way an NHL caliber D-Man is, you know, supposed to? See ya Reds. Enjoy free agency.

The Lows:

• Speaking of worthless bags of donkey feces: Mr. Meszaros certainly had himself an adventure didn't he? Let's see...where to start? Oh! How about your chronic inability to do anything other than pussy little shoves on an opposing forward? Or wait, wait wait! How about your latest incomprehensibly stupid brain cramp that led directly to Jason Pomainville's goal a mere 25 seconds after the Sabres had gone up 2-1? But for my money, your opus, your coupe-de-gracie if you will, was the hooking penalty you took because you were out of position again, thus wiping out a 3rd period powerplay while we were down by two. Um...you're a restricted FA come July aren't you? Oh...no reason. Just asking.

• A real goalie? Missed it by...THAT much: If Gerbs is losing pucks in his pads, or making the stop only to remain frozen in place as the fat rebound squirts onto an opponents stick, or if we find him grossly out of position after almost every fucking shot, it can only mean one thing. Playoff time is coming. Which means...GUH!...Rayzor. Sweet Jesus, can no one save me from these turbulent idiots?

• Attention! "Kristen" please report to dressing room STAT! Bring massage oil...and a friend: Not sure how many people caught it, but The Captain was definitely not okay after scoring our fifth goal and his second of the night. In fact, after shaking his head to an inquiry from the trainer, he left the bench with a grimace with about a minute to go. If memory serves, somebody warned him against coming back from his back problems too early. Whomever could that have been? Please light sacramental candles as you see fit.

Creamy Middle:

Two trains of thought on this one. First: Holy Mother of God, were we lucky to get the win and if we keep it up we're going to get killed in the playoffs! Second: The boys dug deep to win a game we absolutely needed and we'll ride this and be unbeatable in the playoffs! Man...I'm really starting to hate the month of March.

Up Next:

Two nights hence, we tangle at home with the Sabres once again. Depending on what happens with the rest of the clusterfuck that is the Eastern conference between now and then, we could be facing an even more desperate team than we did tonight. Or not. Either way, it would be nice to see us actually play like we're supposed to and crush an opponent who, on paper, has no business giving us this much trouble. But then, that's just me.

Behind enemy lines:

Fellow Times-ian The Willful Caboose is the place to be. Her game threads are an achingly poignant portrait on what it's like to be on the outside looking in. God, I hope I'm never in that position.

Update: Turns out young Master Lee didn't get his first point after all, Verms' empty netter appearing as "unassisted" in the box score. This is what I get for listening Gordo Gasbab Wilson while trying to write a post at the same time. That's it. Come next game, I'm drunk dialing A-Channel Ottawa to tell him he's an idiot. And that I have Prince Albert in a can.

The Buffalo Sabres Think This Is A Fantastic Idea

Losing a 7th game in any playoff series is always devastating. Trust me, I know. At the tender age of 8, my team lost the Cornwall Atom C Division House League final, in overtime, to the only other team in our league. Granted, it was by virtue of the fact that our opponents had more players who didn't fall down in the act of trying to skate backwards, but still... I was years getting over it. In fact, I'm getting a little misty eyed right now (stupid repressed memories).

Imagine then, if you will, how much worse that 7th game loss would feel if, in fact, it came in Game 8. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the Clarence Beavers:

The Ottawa West Golden Knights got a second chance yesterday and took full advantage of the opportunity, three days after it looked like they had lost the Eastern Ontario Junior B Hockey League Metro Division final to the Clarence Beavers.

The Knights won the series last night with a 2-1 win in a Game 7 replay, which was the result of a blown call by a referee in the original Game 7 on Sunday.

The blown call in question, came when the Golden Knights were disallowed what would have been a second period tying goal after an officials' conference, thirty seconds after the fact, determined that the play should have been whistled dead on an offside. The Knights immediately filed an appeal (and by immediately, I mean between the second and third periods) and on Monday, the pointy heads that control the Ottawa District Hockey Association had decided that, despite the Clarence win in overtime, this most egregious injustice of biblical proportions could not go unaddressed, and that the game be replayed, not from the point of the mistake, but in its entirety. And of course, Karma being the fickle bitch that she is, Clarence subsequently lost the replay.

So what's the lesson to be drawn from this children? Well, while a referee's top priority (with the possible exception of Dan Marouelli) should be to ensure that any game they officiate be as fair and equitable as possible, they will miss things from time to time. And when that happens against your team, do not, under any circumstances, merely accept the result with grace and sportsmanship, but whine to the heavens that you were robbed until you can convince someone, anyone, in a position of authority to see it your way and give you what you want. Yeah, I'm pretty sure that's the moral here.

In unrelated news, Dominek Hasek was seen earlier today, sprinting toward the NHL's head office in New York, a video tape in one hand and a skate in the other. Early reports that he was heard muttering "I am totally going to kick Brett Hull's ass" remain unconfirmed as of this writing.

Give The Do-Over to Ottawa West [Ottawa Citizen]

Sens 3, Sabres 2 (SO) -- Excuse Me, Concierge? There's An Elephant In My Room

All of the talk before this game seemed to center around the possibility that the Senators were distracted somehow. Not totally focused on the task at hand, but looking ahead to some future opponent for some reason. As it turned out, a blown 2-0 lead would seem to indicate that the talking heads were right for a change. How in the hell did that happen? Hmmm...let me just consult my handy pocket schedule here. Ah, here it is. Thursday, January 10th...Sabres. Good. Right. Let's see. Saturday, January 12th, at home...Red Wi...oh crap.


The Highs:

• Dost mine eyes deceive me??: Less than two minutes into the first period, the puck is cleared into the Sabres zone. As I watch Spezza chase the Buffalo D man to the puck sitting in the far corner, I take a quick look to see whether our point men are ready for the inevitable Sabres breakout since Jason will just do what he usually does and wave meekly at the -- HOLY CRAP! A HUGE hit! Some poor bastard in a Sabres jersey lies crumpled on the ice! Wow. Just...wow. Seriously, at that moment Sasquatch and the Loch Ness Monster could have walked into my living room looking for beer, and I wouldn't have noticed.

• For my next trick, I'll do it blindfolded: Memo to Paul Gausted. The next time you fight Chris Neil, you might want to try a little more than just pulling his jersey over his head. If those four right hand bombs that you took to the face while Neiler was chuckin' blind are any indication, you may want to consider borrowing some of that bondage equipment your parents keep hidden in their closet. Or just bring the ball gag. Just remember, the safety word is "banana".

• Oh great. Now I'll never be able to call in sick again: Fish spent the day before this game puking his guts out. Right up until the pregame skate, there was talk that a bout of the flu would keep him out of the line up. So how does he respond? By going 100mph from the opening face off, centering Neiler and Robitaille on what was easily the most physical line on the ice for either team and scoring a goal on the shoot out. Thanks Mike. Thanks alot. The next time I have to drag my fever ridden ass to work only to infect most of my co-workers, I'm blaming you.

The Lows:

• Wait, wait, wait. There's a THIRD period??: For those of you too young, or too new to the bandwagon to remember, there was a time, believe it or not, when a Senators fan could routinely wager his or her own children on the outcome of a game in which our boys were leading after two periods and not fear for the outcome. Yeah...those were good times. I wonder what happened?
  

• Oh yeah! That's what happened! Our goalie is on a vicodin high!: Quick question for you, Pastry. Have you ever watched game tape of yourself? Really? You have? Wow. That surprises me, and I'll tell you why. Because...you keep...making...the SAME FUCKING MISTAKE over and over again!! Here's a hint: A physical body will remain at rest, or continue to move at a constant velocity, unless an external net force acts upon it. It's called Newton's first law of physics. Please muse upon it the next time you find yourself sliding to the faceoff dot as you admire your initial stop. Fix that, and then we'll see about doing something about your love of dropping into the butterfly too early as you did on the tying goal.

Creamy Middle:

Well, we managed to get the second point out of a game we tried to give away. Again. I have to admit, after a first period where we hit everything and shot from everywhere and generally made Buffalo our bitch, a bit of hubris set in. When Donovan scored a minute and a bit into the second, I said to myself, "That's it. No way we lose this game." And we didn't. But that's not to say that we deserved it.

Up Next:

The Big Red Machine that are the Detroit Red Wings come to the Bank for the first time in four years. While Coach P's desperate search for a legitimate money goalie continues, Emery gets the start against Ottawa's favourite head case, and we fans look back on those heady days when our opponents were known as the Dead Things. On the upside, getting our asses handed to us might finally wake somebody up to the fact that we have many, many problems to straighten out before April. I'm looking at you Bryan.


Behind Enemy Lines: Behind the Jersey is your source for all of your Red Wing-y needs. Brilliantly written, they've also managed to remain surprisingly humble considering the Wings record. I like that. Maybe I should try that for a little while.

Caps 6, Sens 3: These Acquaintances Can't Get Auld Fast Enough

The only thing I could find that could cheer me up after the last two games. Happy 2008 everyone!

Throughout history, all great heroes had their foils. People who, outside of their disproportionate effect on the actions of those heroes, were otherwise insignificant in their own right. Sherlock Holmes? Professor Moriarty. Mozart? Salieri. Superman? Lex Luthor. Eric Lindros? The blue line. And to that list we can now add: Ottawa Senators? The Washington Capitals. January 15th is the last time we play the Caps this season. I think I can safely speak for the majority of Sens fans when I say "Please God, just make them go away".

The Only High...kinda...ish:

• Hey, that kid's pretty good. Maybe we should watch him a little more closely: Following Saturday night's debacle, the fine gentlemen at Japers' Rink asked me to contribute a blurb for their site outlining why I thought Ottawa would win the rematch. No way Alexander the Great scores another four, I crowed. Take him, and his 40% contribution to the Caps offence out of the game, and voila, no problem, right? Um, not so much. While No. 8 managed two measly assists tonight, it's too bad our boys didn't think to stop the rest of the team while they were at it.

The Lowest of the Lows:

• Will someone not rid me of this turbulent goaltender?: Watching TSN's That's Hockey following the game (something I normally try to avoid due to numerous Darren Dredger induced nosebleeds), an interesting point was made. No, really! It was pointed out that Swiss Pastry's performance tonight (3 goals on 8 shots in 2:19 to blow a 2-0 lead) was the very reason Ray Emery has yet to be traded despite his latest, er, problematic behaviour. While I would hazard that perhaps the real reason is that, as difficult as this may be to believe, there isn't a GM stupid enough to trade for either Emery and his $3 million bag of headaches or Gerbs' temperamental confidence, we can go with this too. Either way, we're stuck with these two for the foreseeable future. Quick! Somebody get Mike Milbury back into the league!

• Snow angels are fun! You guys go ahead without me: This is a bit of a cheat, as it has more to do with Saturday's game, but it needs to be said. Lord knows, it happened often enough tonight as well. Huddle up boys. No, you too Wade. You especially. Ahem...now listen very closely. If you're the only D back and you're facing a 2-on-1, please, and I can't stress this enough, MAKE UP YOUR FUCKING MIND! Either take the trailer, leaving the shooter to the tender mercies of our incompetent goaltending, or charge the shooter allowing said incompetent goaltender to at least have the chance of preparing for the pass through the slot. Do NOT, and Reds, I'm looking at you, do NOT just glide down the middle of the ice on your ass hoping against hope that one of your flailing limbs will deflect the puck into a harmless corner. This is especially advisable when one of those two players is one of the most dangerous goal scorers in the known universe. It's the first thing you learn in freakin' Atom house league for Christ's sake! It's so bad, Beloved turned to me earlier tonight and said "They're killing you, aren't they?" And she never watches hockey.
  

• Me: "Can I have some money?" Bank: "Do you have any money?" Me: "No." Bank: "Then you can't have any money": It's one of the cruelest paradoxes we've all had to face. How do you get a job and gain any experience when The Man won't hire you because you don't have enough experience? Well, from the looks of things, John Paddock hasn't a fucking clue either. Now, up to this point, I've been loathe to criticize Coach P beyond his wardrobe choices. But I have to say Coach, riding the Captain-Golden Groin-Heater line into the ground doesn't strike me as the best way to develop your youngsters. Everyone told you that we lost the Finals because we were a one line team. So how do you respond? By stapling your third and fourth lines to the bench because they screwed up somehow, leaving those aforementioned lines so nervous they can't make a D to D pass without squeezing their sticks hard enough to shatter and your big guns on the 1st and 2nd lines to burn themselves out trying to save you from yourself. Seriously John, you're trying our patience. When someone hands you the keys to a Ferrari, you don't bitch about the trunk space. You just get in the fucking thing and go.

Creamy Middle: We have much to fret over fellow Legionnaires. If you take out the 14-2 start, we've now gone 11-7-4 which is as close to .500 hockey as we've been since the Dark Ages of exactly a year ago. Worse news, our goaltending situation is as bad as it's been since a certain Czech head case screwed us out of a playoff run, our guys seem to have forgotten how to play defence, and I'm not entirely convinced the coach has any clue about how to fix it. Other than that, things are GREAT! Oh dear Lord, I suddenly need a drink.

Up Next: Friday night in Buffalo, Pay Per Screwed only. I have it on good authority that they'll play this one inside so, if I were you Coach, I'd take "Let snowbanks be our seventh defenceman" out of the game plan.

Game 20: Sabres 4, Sens 2 -- The Creamy Middle: Roadkill Edition

Gentlemen, you will kneel before the scheduling gods and do homage. Render unto them thanks and praise for their mercy and wisdom. Why? Because you have a game to play tonight. Oh yes, verily, be ever grateful that Sid and the Kiddie Korps are in the House. Why, you may ask? Had this been an open date between last night's disgrace and Saturday's rematch with the Flyers, you would have had to answer for your "performance". You would have answered for it with the longest, most grueling, downright evil and quite possibly fatal bag skate of your careers.

How bad would it have been? Plenty. Coach P. would have established a twenty-mile perimeter around the Bank into which no puck could venture and still hope to survive. He would then, bullwhip in hand, had you dress in full gear, and strapped weights equivalent to a Volkswagen to your backs to run you through one hundred wind sprints, red line, to blue line, to hash marks, to goal line until the weaker among you were slicing open your own jugulars just for the excuse to stop. First man to fall would reset the count AND have to clean the puke from the ice afterward. Then how about a two hour "cool down" session on those pretty stationary bikes Brenden Shanahan thinks are so funny to top it off? Gentlemen, Coach P. would have ensured that if any of you had somehow survived the ordeal to go on and procreate, your future grandchildren would still be in pain. Okay, maybe Coach P. wouldn't have done any of that. Aren't you glad I'm not your coach? You have tonight's game to redeem yourselves gentlemen. I would suggest you take full advantage of the opportunity and perhaps not suck the moose cock quite so enthusiastically.

The Lipstick On The Pig:

• Hello, Leon's? About that don't pay a cent thing...: My television somehow made it through the first 29 minutes and 27 seconds of this exercise in craptacular with most of its major components intact. At 29:28, Alfie scored to make it 3-1, and I put my hammer away.

The Lowest Of The Many Many Lows:

• Lost puppy, free to a good home. Answers to "Rayzor": Ray, I don't know where that horse went, but you'd best find it and get back on it and right smartly. 3 goals, one of them a soft floater from the top of the circle, on 9 shots after losing your last game to the worst team in the league (Hi Coach Han -- oh, sorry) is a one way ticket to being traded to the British Ice Hockey League for some battered haddock wrapped in newspaper. Or worse, Los Angeles. That would leave Swiss Pastry to carry our Cup hopes, and that is something for which I could never forgive you.

• Why no, I don't believe a six foot opening is large enough for a three inch object. Why do you ask?: Chris, as your picking the carbon slivers from your palms this morning, I want you to forget about it. Forget, for the moment, that that shorty would have meant a 3-3 tie and the completion of an improbable comeback. Forget that your miss cost us any momentum we'd managed to generate to that point and therefore probably cost us the game. Forget, as hard as it seems, the fact that you hit the freakin' post on a deserted net from three feet away!! Forget all that. Look at those splinters. Now, perhaps you're squeezing the stick juuuust a tad too hard, no?

• Well, if it's in a "newspaper", it must be true!: Last Friday, I advanced the theory that Heater was in a slump. The following Monday, the Ottawa Citizen's Allen Panzeri reported to the breathless masses that...wait for it...Heater was in a slump. I don't know what that means, except that I should probably track the IP addresses of my visitors a little more closely. Anyway, Dany, your two goals in the last three games ( or 3 in the last 12 for those of you scoring at home) does not mean your slump is dead. Only that it has been relocated to other parts of your game. Apropos of nothing, standing still while flailing helplessly at opponents with your stick (as lovely a tribute to the Golden Groin --BFF 4EVAH!! -- as it may be) and taking stupid penalties is not the optimal way one would go about being a leader.
  

Curdled Middle: Depending on what happens against the Flightless Birds tonight, we may be on the verge of a full blown slide. Of course, I can't actually see what's happening in tonight's game as it is the first of seven of those abominations before the eyes of man and God known as "Pay-Per-View". As I would rather urinate down my own throat than shell out money for a third rate broadcast, thus feeding and giving credence to the beast that is corporate greed, we'll move straight on to...

Up Next: Bobby Clarke's fiendish army of the undead comes to visit on Saturday. A bright shiny penny to the man, or woman, who brings me Steve Downie's head on a plate. What? He's in the minors? All right. Two bright shiny pennies.

Game 17: Sens 3, Sabres 2 -- The Highs, The Lows, The Creamy Middle

Dear friends of the Northeast Division,

Really, is this the best you can do? Is this all there is? I mean, it's not like we haven't given you any chances. Boston, you took one game to overtime riding the back of a ridiculously hot goalie. We won in a shootout. Sure, you managed to steal a point, but still. And how about you, Montreal? In our first game you made rather foolish promises. In the second, we gave you a lead with five minutes to go, and yet you couldn't beat us.

And you Toronto, what about you? Hello? Toronto? I'm talking to you...listen here ple -- yes that's a very nice fingerpainting...um...sure, I'll put it on the fridge. What? Darcy, stop screaming! Now what was that? No, you can't have any cookies this close to bedtime. Shhhh...I'm talking to the big people now. Thank you. Good boys.

Buffalo, you were our last hope. You were the one we were counting on to make this interesting. And yet...and yet... Young man, we are very disappointed in you. Look, we realize you were violated this summer, losing almost 80 goals and 160-ish points from the roster that surrendered meekly lost to us in five games in the Eastern Final. We know. And that mean Mister Lowe treated you just horribly.

But please, for all our sakes', pick it up will you? And if not for us, than do it for the sake of the Commissar. Can you, as a group, please, please try to make the 24 remaining games we have against all of you a little more...shall we say...competitive? Just a little? Please think of the ratings!

Thank you, and God Bless,
The Ottawa Senators.

The Highs:

• Traditional gift for one's 800th anniversary? 35 pounds of bowl-shaped silver: As the chants of Alfie! Alfie! Alfie! rang from the Bank's rafters last night following the Captain's two goals and announcement of his 800th game in a Sens jersey, I couldn't help but wonder how many of those chanters had been calling for his head not one year before. Stand and be ridiculed, heathens!

• Mike, if I weren't straight, and you weren't an evangelical Christian, we would so totally hook up: Never have I seen two more beautiful no-look passes as Fish delivered to Alfie and Donovan, each for goals. Ever. WHY CAN'T I QUIT YOU?!?!

• Nurse? It hurts when you touch me there: The Golden Groin finally made it back into the line up. While he wasn't quite the JAAAYYYYSSSSON!! we've come to know and love, he did cough up the puck just enough to remind us why he doesn't play on the penalty kill. But when you hear the play-by-play guy exclaim "Spezza! Helping out defensively!", you know he's having a pretty good game.

The Lows:

• If it's not on our site, it didn't happen: While the official team site conveniently fails to mention this, the Senators went 1/7 on the power play against the Sabres. Or to put the suckitude in a different light, 16.9% (13/77) for the season. Good for 18th (God, I feel like Dean Brown, quoting all of these stats...so dirty). Apropos of nothing, Coach P., I couldn't help but notice Chris Neil's absence on the power play last night. While I'm sure it's strictly an oversight, how about trying him out, say...in front of the net? Worked pretty well for Murray last year. Just sayin...

• My Heater has gone cold. Can I get a rental?: Dany, Dany, Dany...one goal in the last 9 games. This is no way to impress the prospective father-in-law. If you're going to be here for the next 7 years, AND you want to get laid, you better have more than millions of dollars in your pocket. You have to produce man! Wait, what? Oh...apparently your millions are enough. Okay. But if you could score a couple of goals, that would be cool too.

The Creamy Middle: This game was never really in doubt, even with the parade to the penalty box in the third period. Let's face it. The Sabres, after having been raped and pillaged over the off season, are no longer the threat they once were. And at 15-2 it's getting a little tough to find things to complain about. Luckily for me, there's always the Leafs...

Up Next: Hey! Looky here! It's the Leafs. Tomorrow night, in Toronto. There are several certainties surrounding this one. 1) Alfie will be booed each time he touches the puck. 2) Bob Cole will climax every time he says "Mats Sundin" and 3) Jiri Tlusky's text messages will be very, very closely monitored.*



*More on that later. You didn't think I would let that go did you??