Good Evening Gentlemen. Mr. Davidson Would Like A Word

Okay. It’s perfectly obvious now. Why it hadn’t occurred to me before, I’ll never know. Those dastardly fiends at Maple Leafs Sports and Entertainment have ripped open a hole in space-time and swapped our Covered-In-Glory 2007 Senators with the Bathed-In-The-Stink-Of-Gary-Roberts’-Junk Senators, circa 2002. Of course! How else to explain the sudden reappearance of our favourite wilting lilies from days of yore? I can’t. Can you?

Seriously. Just what the hell is going on? Everybody with a functional frontal lobe told them what they needed to do. Hit them. Skate. Hit them again. Muck it up on the boards. Keep hitting them. Get shots to the net. Look like you CARE goddammit. And to a man, the team nodded, agreed, promised to do just that. Yep. You betcha! Totally! RAH! WE’RE GOING OUT THERE AND…ah…play worse? 16 shots. SIXTEEN! Jesus wept.

Alright. That’s it for my rant. It took me about an hour last night to empty my Big Cauldron Of Rage but now nice Mister Doctor Guy says I’m all fixed. My patio set may need additional recovery time however. (Sorry Honey. We’ll get a new one. Promise).

Um…so now what? Well, now our wallflowers return to the friendly confines of the Bank, where the frenzied mob will surely motivate them to, oh…I don’t know…play the frickin’ game like they have since the middle of April?!? Whether that motivation stems from the adrenaline rush which comes from the adulation of an adoring populace or an acute (and quite real) fear of being lynched in the parking lot after another stinker, I don’t much care.

Just show us something. Anything. Please?

Deptartment Of Vaguely Disturbing Yet Surprisingly Apt Photography

The picture you see here was swiped from SI.com’s gallery (coverage so in-depth they’ve posted 8 whole pictures over both games. But I digress.) Considering what the Ducks have done to us so far, I’d say the angle is about bang on, wouldn’t you?

Much has been made today about Joe Corvo’s pirouette on the winning goal last night. And, yes, while it is preferable for one to actually face one’s opponent in these kinds of situations (or even better, put him on his ass), the goat horns aren’t entirely his alone. As Alan Muir points out:

In fact, it was a lazy turnover at the offensive blueline by Heatley -- one of 11 committed by the trio that night -- and a baffling free pass granted to Pahlsson by Alfredsson that allowed the Anaheim center to carry the puck 100 feet before punctuating the victory.

I would go a little further back than that, all the way to Spezza's lazy ass pass to Heatly through (of course) the middle. Heater couldn't handle it cleanly, hence the turnover. During last year's playoffs, I told everyone who would listen that Jason would someday cost us the Cup. Turns out, I may have been a year early.

To my fellow Sens Heads: Go easy on Joe. The last time he screwed up this badly, it took him six weeks to get back to normal. Stanley Cup Finals? He may actually go postal

Oh, and Alfie? Messier would’ve taken the penalty. Just sayin’…

Rink Side Blog: Are They History? [SI.com]

Okay, Class. What Have We Learned From This?

Everybody take a deep breath and calm down. Like you, I have no idea why the Binghamton Senators were sent to play Game 1, but I have it on good authority that the Ottawa Senators have indeed landed in Anaheim and will be taking part in the Finals, starting tomorrow. We thank the boys from Bingo for their valiant, if futile effort, and assure them that Happy Meals will be served on the bus ride home, as stipulated in their minor league contracts.

What happened last night was as predictable as it was brutal to watch. A nine day lay-off (someday, somehow Alexei Yagudin will pay for this travesty) plus the jetlag (call a huge “bullshit” the next time you here Bryan Murray say it isn’t a factor because “everyone is professional”. Bryan, “professionalism” is no defence against natural physiology. Or so I read in a law book somewhere) plus a Ducks team jacked up on the home crowd’s mojo, equals the worst complete game the Senators have played since Christmas, with the third being the worst period they’ve played since the sky was falling back in November. They were out hit (boy, howdy!), out hustled to every loose puck and out skated. The boys just ran out of legs.

Now, that said, the real danger is letting this ass-whuppin' (there’s no gilding this particular lily) turn into momentum. Here’s what needs to happen right from the puck drop tomorrow night:

1) Hit everything not in a white jersey until it screams, up to and including the peanut vendors. Then hit it again. Especially the vendors. I hate peanuts.

2) Shoot the damn puck!!

3) Chris Neil needs to pummel Brad May, or Corey Perry, or both. At the same time if need be.

4) SHOOT!!

5) Find the forecheck they had in the first three rounds. Shouldn’t be too hard to find. Check under the locker room bench. It should be right next to where Spezz left his manhood.

6) Did I mention that it would be a good idea to shoot some more, you know, just ‘cause?

Last night was Anaheim’s mulligan. The Quacks have shot their load, if ducks actually have loads to shoot (a mystery I am only to happy to leave to others). This Series starts tomorrow. Or, um, the next day. Or whenever the figure skaters give us our fucking ice back...

p.s.: Strangely, no word on how beside himself with glee Mr. Simmons may be. I’d keep an eye out though. The scent of smug is strong on this one.

Stanley Cup Finals -- Game 1: Upon Bryan's Signal Unleash Hell

Dear gawd, but it feels like these last 10 days have dragged forever. But we're here Sens fans. Pinch yourselves, you ain't dreamin'. Game 1 of the Stanley Cup Finals is thirty minutes away. And I, for one, am very warm and tingly in all of my special places.

I'm not even going to attempt a live blog on this. Not only can I count on any emotional stability at all, but the sweat on my palms keep causing myt fighhyngers toooolol slopslip off the keyboard.

My expectations tonight: Anaheim comes out like a house a-fire, crashing, banging, attempting to injure anything in white. The Senators (not too dopey from the lay-off...I hope...otherwise I'm making Bettman my bitch) have to weather the storm that will be the first five minutes. After that, the Ducks get themselves into penalty trouble and the boys go to work on a lethal powerplay. And if Marchant doesn't try to take out one of Alfie, Heater or Spez with a chicken-shit knee shot before the first period is over, I'll kiss a Leaf fan...on the mouth.

Final: Ottawa 4, Anaheim 1. Flangerotti!

p.s: I have to give a quick plug to the boys at Battle of Ontario. If you want a lively game thread, head there. I'll try to make it over myself...as soon as I stop throwing up.

Caution: Quasi-Serious Analysis Ahead

There are several reasons I don't go in for the whole "Serious Series Preview and Breakdown" here, not the least of which is that I'm not very good at it.

First: As you can probably imagine, I am hopelessly biased. If I were to preview, say, an Ottawa/Toronto playoff series (if such a thing were to occur again in my lifetime...HAR!), I doubt anyone would want to read a full page of balanced analysis ("Leafs SUCK and here's why!") in which I go into a five hundred word rant on why Darcy Tucker should never be allowed to procreate. Funny? Maybe. Useful? Not so much.

Two: Unfamiliarity with the opposition. If I had to guess (and my Beloved would be happy to point out...with a lonely sigh), I've watched roughly 85-90% of the Senators televised games this year. I can tell you if Mike Fisher is going to have a good game just by watching the first three strides he takes after the opening face off. I wouldn't know Ryan Getzlaf if I hit him with my car. Well, not right away, anyway. I'm sure the nice officer would introduce us.

Three: Winston Churchill once said that "Statistics are like bikinis. Interesting for what they reveal, absolutely fascinating for what they don't" Not only that, they're boring (um...the stats, not the bikinis. Bikinis are quite interesting). Dry analysis based on statistics mean nothing in the playoffs, and even less in the Finals. What matters most are things like effort and heart. Stats won't tell you who will go into a corner, or take the hit to make the play, and that's what wins Championships.

So...where does that leave me? With this:

The Ducks are a three-line/four D team. Ottawa can roll four lines all the time, all six defenceman can block shots and shut down just about anyone.

• Anaheim has logged more travel and time zone changes in the first three rounds than a drunken Delta pilot. Ottawa has yet to venture out of the eastern time zone.


• While the Ducks are the more physical team, Ottawa can play any way you want, and have the advantage of being, by far, the faster team. You can't hit what you can't catch.


• I managed to work in a Winston Churchill reference in a hockey post. C'mon, that's gotta count for something.

Senators in six. May God have mercy on avian souls.

In Unrelated News, Panama City Awarded Expansion Franchise

In a plea agreement reached with the New Jersey State prosecutor, it appears that Rick Tocchet won't get any jail time for running what has been described as "an illegal gambling ring". Gary Bettman remains suspiciously silent.

Personally, I don't much care about Tocchet's gambling habits. We've all joined a sports pool or two. Hell, some of us *cough* may be of passing acquaintance with...um..."independent wager facilitators."

He swears he's never bet on hockey. Does that mean I believe him? Hell no. Does it matter? Hell no. Why? Well, unlike a certain All Star baseball player, cum manager, cum pariah, Tocchet's Hall of Fame potential is basically zero. Two? The guy's in Phoenix for crying out loud. If he fixed a game to make sure the Coyotes would lose, how would you be able to tell?

Nope, the only reason I bring it up is that it gives me the opportunity to post the picture you see here. I have to confess, I find the uniforms of the New Jersey State Police absolutely hilarious.

Manuel Noriega gets out of prison in September. I think he may want his clothes back.

Tocchet Pleads Guilty to Gambling Charges [TSN.ca]

Oh Yeah?!?! Well, Keep Your Hot Babes. We Invented Time Zones! Take That!

Okay children, we're in the Finals! We're in the Finals with four days to kill until Game 1 (thanks again NBC. Sure there isn't a horse race somewhere? Jerks).

So anyway...We know what that means! That means it's time for everybody's favourite new game...Mock The Ducks! Um...Right. The Ducks. California...Er...Gotcha. I'm gonna bring it! Hide the women and kiddies! Here I come! Ah...okay. Ah crap. This was way easier with the Sabres (we told them it would be twenty-four degrees at game time, and they came by the busload, dressed up in parkas and ski masks. Gawd I love the metric system!).

I mean, really, how do you work up a good hatred for a team your team has played against once in two years? A team whose former name elicited more pity than anything else from Canadians ("Oooo...'Mighty' Ducks? Wasn't that a cartoon? Oh you poor dears. Who's going to want to play with that on their jersey? Have a beer. Just one, mind you. Wouldn't want you getting all crazy on us.") A team whose totally unexpected trip to the finals in 2003 actually made me want to root for them as the quintessential Rudy story? You can't. At least not before any games have been played. What am I going to do?

Can I make fun of their so-called "non-hockey market"? Can't do that. Not with Anaheim being so close to L.A., the same L.A. that didn't give a rat's ass about two, count 'em TWO, NFL teams but has had the Kings for 30 years. Nope, that's no good.

The citizenry? Well, these are the same folks who pioneered gay rights, hippies, women's beach volleyball (thank you), emission standards, tofu, and by inadvertent extension to this last, Whacking Day, in which Albertans take a day off from the ranch to beat Vegans with calcified steer ribs. In other words, everything that drives Republicans, and their close Canadian relatives, the right fringe of the Conservatives, absolutely batshit crazy (except for Whacking Day. They love that). For this we can only thank them.

I was starting to get desperate. Then, on a tour of the Interwebs, I came across the Battle of California (through Battle of Ontario, to which I was directed by a link on Deadspin, whose parent site, Gawker.com made fun of Tom Cruise, who co-starred in Jerry McGuire with Cuba Gooding Jr., who appeared in A Few Good Men with Kevin Bacon) I found disconcerting evidence of co-operation between camps!

So I gave up completely. I need some time. I need to do some research. Believe me, the only reason I'm not flying into a BLIND RAGE is that...um...you guys seem kinda harmless, in an amusement park kinda way (and you linked my little site on yours. Gosh. Thanks). Plus, Battle of Ontario is way better at this kind of stuff than I am.

But beware! The minute I find some dirt on you guys, you're toast! Get it? Losers? And you still have to keep Celine! Suckers!

p.s.: I'll actually get to my prediction on this series later in the weekend (oooh...guess who I pick?), but I first need to dig up as many embarrassing pictures of Micheal Eisner as possible.

UPDATE: KMS2, of Hockey Ladies Greatness was kind enough to point out that the Kings were admitted to the League in 1967 and are in fact 40 years old, not 30 as I stated above. I had it in my head that they came in during the expansion of 1974. Probably because of the uniforms. Seriously. Does anything say 1974 like Gold and Royal Purple? I think not. In a very groovy way, Five For Smiting regrets the error.