Good lord, where to start? These are the kinds of games that you want to relish and relive in your memory. Which is good, because I sometimes still have nightmares replaying last year's Game 5. Not that this will ever relieve the sting from that loss, it goes a long way toward removing the unpleasant aura that still hangs around it. (Interesting to note, the Wings have won all three of their Game 5s during this playoff run, which is nice since it tends to be an important one in a 2-2 series like two of them have been.) For the first time in this series, the Wings actually showed up and played Red Wings hockey. It was quite a pleasant experience, and I can only hope that they realize that they need to bring the same stuff for Game 6.
I'll start off by stating the obvious: Dangle Dangle's return was epic. I wanted nothing more than for him to score, but I'll settle for two assists any day. He looked good out there. He was making plays and backchecking and doing the little things that nobody outside of Detroit appreciates. There were a few moments where he looked a little slow, but having him back in the lineup was a huge boost.
The other player of note tonight? Chris Osgood. The man has now posted three Stanley Cup Finals shutouts in the last two years. Take that, Ozzie bashers. Tonight was a big game, and nobody shows up for big games better than #30.
The first period was fairly typical of Wings games this season. Except for the part where I'm pretty sure the first whistle didn't come until the first commercial break. I'm not going to lie, that was pretty fun to watch, from the standpoint of a pure hockey fan. No other sport can compete with that.
The Wings didn't start out too well. During the first few minutes, I was majorly anxious. I even had to put my traditional playoff game Slurpee down because I kept choking on it/nearly poking my eye out on the straw. This says a lot about my emotional state, because nothing keeps me from a good Slurpee. It's an addiction surpassed only by my allegiance to the Red Wings, and possibly roller coasters.
Then the Wings seemed to figure things out. They started carrying the play. They were taking it to Pittsburgh. But then Kronwall was called for a penalty. And I was devastated. At that point, I decided that they were going to lose and that I would be forced to spend all of next season watching clips of Crosby carrying the Cup during commercial breaks.
We all know that the PK has been pathetic all season, so my fears were at least partially justified. Needless to say, I was thrilled when the Wings managed to kill it off. Sammy, who I semi-unfairly criticize a lot, turned in a nice defensive play that took away a scoring chance. After the kill, I started wondering to myself if that PK might have been a statement. I didn't dare say that out loud, and immediately turned my thoughts back to other things, but I was thinking it.
Not long after they killed off the penalty, Datsyuk set Cleary up for what ended up being the game winner. I don't know what the injury was that made his status questionable, but thank goodness it wasn't serious enough to keep him out. And for Datsyuk, talk about making an immediate impact after missing seven games. Welcome back, Pav. We missed you.
Going into the second period, I was feeling cautiously optomistic. I liked what I was seeing from the boys, but a one-goal lead doesn't mean a whole lot in the NHL. So I returned to my spot on the couch (Yes, I have a spot. Nobody is willing to sit within arm-flailing distance of me during hockey games.) and re-assumed my semi-fetal position. Little did I know what was in store for me.
In the second, the Wings did what they do best: they scored a lot of goals and really pissed their opponents off while managing to not take a single penalty. And the result was beautiful.
During the Finals, the powerplay, much like the PK, has been a bit of a trouble spot. Troubled enough that it allowed a shorthanded goal during Game 4. The boys chose a heck of a time to break out of their slump. They scored three goals in less than ten minutes, all on the powerplay. It looked just like the second period on Thursday, but happier. The Pens pretty much unraveled, and it had shades of Game 4 of the Chicago series. Somehow, this was much more fun, though.
Filppula is another guy who I rip on a lot. Especially for his hair. And I know that it's sometimes unfair, but it's important to understand that I do it because I care. Anyway, Flipper, as I like to call him, has now come up with two huge backhand goals in the Finals, and that's a contribution that's worth recognizing. Accordingly, I'll lay off the haircut jokes next time they show his team picture on TV. But only once. You have to earn your free passes 'round these parts.
It was also nice to see Hossa get an assist on the goal. Aside from Datsyuk, there is nobody I wanted to see score more than #81. I don't think he could buy a goal at this point. Not even when Datsyuk set him up for that beautiful scoring chance right in the paint. But an assist is something. It's more than Crosby and Malkin combined for tonight. So there.
I didn't have to wait long for the Wings to strike again. This time it was Kronwall looking like a forward and bringing the puck from the corner through three Pittsburgh players and firing past MAF. I had a moment of confusion because I couldn't figure out how he ended up down there, a point which also seemed to baffle Mickey, but I decided that I didn't care all that much how he ended up in that corner, just so long as the puck ended up in the Penguins' net.
A little more than two minutes later, Brian Rafalski added the Wings' fourth goal. It was at this point that I was finally able to release my dog from the chokehold I'd had her in since the start of the game. Datsyuk picked up his second assist of the night, and it was nice to see Homer right up in Marc-Andre Fleury's face where he belongs.
It was right around this time that they showed a close-up of Pierre McGuire on the screen. My father, being an ever-lovable man-child, dropped this quote, which will forever live in our family's quotation lore: "You know, with all the money they spend powdering that guy's head so it doesn't shine, you'd think they could afford to buy him a hairpiece. Or a really nice hat." This has nothing to do with the game itself, but I had to share.
Not long after that, the Wings added their fifth and final goal of the night, courtesy of Henrik Zetterberg. There really isn't enough that I can say about this man. He does it all. Night after night after night. It's really a credit to him that I barely even noticed Sidney Crosby until he took a slashing penalty late in the period. Z wasn't just a blanket tonight. He was an invisibility cloak. (Yes, I realize that any street cred I had built up before is gone now that I've made a Harry Potter reference in my hockey blog. It's okay; it was bound to happen sooner or later.) Crosby looked quite upset that he wasn't getting his way. So much for being more mature this time around. The fact that he's nominated for a leadership award is an absolute joke. He has the same air of entitlement that made me hate the rich kids I went to high school with. It's like he expects the Cup to just be given to him because he's special, whereas a guy like Hank knows that he's going to have to work his ass off to get it. And that is the essence of why I hate Crosby so much.
It was also nice to see Jiri Hudler pick up an assist on Z's goal, since I'd been commenting on how invisible he'd been up until this point. Seeing MAF get yanked (to be "rested") was not unpleasant either.
The boys looked a little shaky to start the third period, but they seemed to get it in gear after the first few minutes. I'm still not sure what Hossa was doing when he took that goalie interference penalty right at the start, but it ended up not mattering, so I'm willing to let it go.
My family couldn't understand why I was just as anxious during the third as I had been at the start of the game. All through Pittsburgh's powerplay, I was on edge hoping against all hope that the Wings would kill it off for Ozzie's sake. I wanted this shutout. I wanted it so badly that I could taste it. I wanted it for the Wings and for the fans, but mostly I wanted it for Ozzie. I wanted it so that he could take it and wave it in the face of each and every one of his critics. And I got it. A lot will depend on the outcome of Game 6, and possibly (please, Hockey Gods, no) Game 7. But if, if, if the Wings win, you had better believe there'll be a queue of Osgood-naysayers in the locker room waiting their turn for his retribution.
There's not a whole lot left to say. The third period was pretty much what I expected it to be. Some random notes:
-The crowd was amazubg toward the end of the game. They sang almost the whole chorus of "I Wanna Rock'n'Roll All Night" after they stopped the music over the PA.
-I had no idea Lebda got a game misconduct until I looked at the box score. I don't even know what he did. Now I'm going to have to go back and check it out on my DVR.
-Z turned in an easy 20:55 of ice time tonight. It's good to see his minutes down a little, even though I don't buy the whole tired-from-chasing-Crosby-around thing. There's no doubt that Datsyuk's return helped a little in that regard.
-Dangle Dangle played 17:38, which I have to admit is a little more than I expected from him. It's interesting to note that he didn't play at all on either PK. Hopefully he doesn't have any set-backs with his foot, and will be good to go on Tuesday.
-Babcock's response (via Snapshots) to a question about using the Penguins' players' comments about the Wings looking tired as psychological fuel to get up for Game 5: "I don't know. When we play well do our guys talk about their team like that?" I hate to keep harping on it, but it always seems to come down to classiness. It doesn't help on the scoreboard, but it sure makes me feel all warm and fuzzy as a fan.
-Did anyone else notice how sad Gary Bettman looked when they showed him on TV? He looked like he was on the verge of tears. Impartial? I think not. Now, Bettman defenders (are there actually any out there?) might say that he was disappointed that the game had gotten out of hand and wasn't more compelling for a national TV audience, but I choose to believe otherwise.
-At one point (I can't remember if it was during the second or third period) Franzen and Hossa made a Malkin sandwich along the boards. This made me smile, just like Datsyuk's hit on him did earlier in the game.
What a turn-around from Game 4. Thursday night and most of Friday, I was miserable. You would've thought that the world was ending. Now, for a few brief moments that I'm going to allow myself to enjoy for the first time in a long time, everything seems right in the world. That's not to say that tomorrow morning I won't wake up right back in super-stress mode, but on this evening, I'll go to bed smiling. I won't allow myself to think too far ahead, because there's no surer way to jinx things than to assume that they are going to go your way. This furthers the thesis of this blog (Can a blog have a thesis? I don't care. This one does. I'm a grad student. My text messages have thesis statements.), which is that Red Wings hockey is like crack. You go through epic highs and downright miserable lows, but nothing deters you from coming back for more. No matter how awful you felt after Game 4, you couldn't not watch Game 5. There is a need, a compulsion that sucks you in every time. And the bad news for friends and family? There's no 12-step program for Wings addicts.
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Saturday, June 6, 2009
Evil Co-Workers and Gearing Up for A Big Game...
I've been in a surprisingly good mood today. There is absolutely no explanation for this. It's theoretically possible that my little Bob-Seger-and-Dire-Straits-fest before work this morning helped me chill out, but I like to think that it had more to do with wearing a Wings t-shirt under my work polo. To make things even better, miracle of miracles, my manager took pity on my and told me that I didn't have to work tonight. I can only interpret this as divine intervention on the part of the Hockey Gods. So at least I have that going for me. Maybe my begging and pleading is paying off.
Work this morning was actually a blessing because otherwise I would've spent hours sitting in front of my computer refreshing the Snapshots blog until I gave myself carpal tunnel. I didn't even care that the place was absolutely dead, and I made no money. If nothing else, it kept my mind off of Game 5 tonight and kept my stress levels somewhat in check.
Until one of my evil, evil co-workers decided to play a nasty trick on me, that is. He's a Carolina Hurricanes' fan (yeah, I didn't realize they existed either until I met him), and he's been giving me crap about the Wings since the start of the playoffs. This was totally uncalled for, since I didn't even give him a hard time when Carolina lost, figuring that the mere fact that he was a Canes' fan was enough punishment for one lifetime. He decided that it would be fun to run up to me and tell me that Datsyuk was officially out for the rest of the series. And then my heart stopped. I'm not even kidding. At least that's what I imagine having your heart stop would feel like. And I would've believed him until he told me that Lidstrom and Zetterberg were also out. At that point, I threw something at him and told him that we were no longer friends. If I had actually died right there, they would've had charge him with manslaughter for intentionally causing me to have a heart attack. He would've sold me on the Datsyuk front, at least until I had time to text a friend for confirmation, but he tried to take it too far, and I saw through it.
In actual news, it's sounding pretty certain that Datsyuk will, in fact, be back. It goes without saying, but this is a very good thing. However, I'm holding my joy back until I actually see him on the ice after the puck drops. You can fool me once, Pavel and Mike, but I'm not that gullible. So we'll see.
On the other hand, neither Dan Cleary nor Brian Rafalski took the morning skate, and this is troubling. I know Rafalski didn't skate the other day and was still good to play, but it's still not particularly good news. I'd even go so far as to speculate that it played a role in him getting beaten on Staal's shorthanded goal. All we know of Cleary's issue is that it's being called a "lower body injury." So really, that could mean anything from a separated shoulder to herpes. The Wings need him going full-tilt too, and tonight would be a fantastic time for him to re-ignite that little scoring bonanza he had going during the Western Conference Finals.
Over the last couple of days, I've been informed by nearly every media source that Gary Bettman's dream has, in fact, come true, and his Little Buddy is all but assured the Stanley Cup. This might terrify a normal person, or a fan of another team. But over the course of my fandom, I've noticed that the Wings tend to play their best hockey when their backs are against the walls. I think they thrive on being counted out. I think Mike Babcock makes them sit down and read every single word written by the naysayers. In Games 1 and 2, when everybody assumed they were done for without Datsyuk and with such a short break before the back-to-back games, they came out and got the job done. After they went up 2-0 and everyone switched around and said that they had it all but locked up, they proceeded to play like a peewee team. So now here we are, exactly where we were a week ago, except for now it's a best of three instead of a best of seven series. Pretty much everybody is expecting the Wings to go down like the Titanic. But my boys? They're not ready to let go. They get their jollies by proving that they can do things that nobody else believes they can do. Kind of like how I enjoy proving that I can lift heavy things and open jars even though people assume that a short little girl like me is helpless.
The bottom line is that the Wings are capable of winning with or without him, if everybody steps up and performs. If they sit back and play like they did in Game 4, then getting Pav back won't make any difference at all.
Now that I'm done with this post, it's time for me to commence my pre-playoff game ritual of cowering in a fetal position hugging my Steve Yzerman jersey and 2008 rally rag like security blankets. I'm tossing around the idea of pulling out all of the considerable amount of Red Wings clothing items I own and burying myself in them until game time. I understand that this is pathetic; that it's not normal. But it is what it is, and it's the only thing that gets me through the day during the playoffs.
Work this morning was actually a blessing because otherwise I would've spent hours sitting in front of my computer refreshing the Snapshots blog until I gave myself carpal tunnel. I didn't even care that the place was absolutely dead, and I made no money. If nothing else, it kept my mind off of Game 5 tonight and kept my stress levels somewhat in check.
Until one of my evil, evil co-workers decided to play a nasty trick on me, that is. He's a Carolina Hurricanes' fan (yeah, I didn't realize they existed either until I met him), and he's been giving me crap about the Wings since the start of the playoffs. This was totally uncalled for, since I didn't even give him a hard time when Carolina lost, figuring that the mere fact that he was a Canes' fan was enough punishment for one lifetime. He decided that it would be fun to run up to me and tell me that Datsyuk was officially out for the rest of the series. And then my heart stopped. I'm not even kidding. At least that's what I imagine having your heart stop would feel like. And I would've believed him until he told me that Lidstrom and Zetterberg were also out. At that point, I threw something at him and told him that we were no longer friends. If I had actually died right there, they would've had charge him with manslaughter for intentionally causing me to have a heart attack. He would've sold me on the Datsyuk front, at least until I had time to text a friend for confirmation, but he tried to take it too far, and I saw through it.
In actual news, it's sounding pretty certain that Datsyuk will, in fact, be back. It goes without saying, but this is a very good thing. However, I'm holding my joy back until I actually see him on the ice after the puck drops. You can fool me once, Pavel and Mike, but I'm not that gullible. So we'll see.
On the other hand, neither Dan Cleary nor Brian Rafalski took the morning skate, and this is troubling. I know Rafalski didn't skate the other day and was still good to play, but it's still not particularly good news. I'd even go so far as to speculate that it played a role in him getting beaten on Staal's shorthanded goal. All we know of Cleary's issue is that it's being called a "lower body injury." So really, that could mean anything from a separated shoulder to herpes. The Wings need him going full-tilt too, and tonight would be a fantastic time for him to re-ignite that little scoring bonanza he had going during the Western Conference Finals.
Over the last couple of days, I've been informed by nearly every media source that Gary Bettman's dream has, in fact, come true, and his Little Buddy is all but assured the Stanley Cup. This might terrify a normal person, or a fan of another team. But over the course of my fandom, I've noticed that the Wings tend to play their best hockey when their backs are against the walls. I think they thrive on being counted out. I think Mike Babcock makes them sit down and read every single word written by the naysayers. In Games 1 and 2, when everybody assumed they were done for without Datsyuk and with such a short break before the back-to-back games, they came out and got the job done. After they went up 2-0 and everyone switched around and said that they had it all but locked up, they proceeded to play like a peewee team. So now here we are, exactly where we were a week ago, except for now it's a best of three instead of a best of seven series. Pretty much everybody is expecting the Wings to go down like the Titanic. But my boys? They're not ready to let go. They get their jollies by proving that they can do things that nobody else believes they can do. Kind of like how I enjoy proving that I can lift heavy things and open jars even though people assume that a short little girl like me is helpless.
The bottom line is that the Wings are capable of winning with or without him, if everybody steps up and performs. If they sit back and play like they did in Game 4, then getting Pav back won't make any difference at all.
Now that I'm done with this post, it's time for me to commence my pre-playoff game ritual of cowering in a fetal position hugging my Steve Yzerman jersey and 2008 rally rag like security blankets. I'm tossing around the idea of pulling out all of the considerable amount of Red Wings clothing items I own and burying myself in them until game time. I understand that this is pathetic; that it's not normal. But it is what it is, and it's the only thing that gets me through the day during the playoffs.
A Piss Poor Day in My LIfe...
So today was miserable. It was filled with leftover angst from Game 4, ridiculous amounts of personal drama, and the lurking sense of dread that accompanies every must-win playoff game. On top of that, I'm probably going to be missing the first half of Game 5, so I've already warned my boss that I'm going to be curled up in the breakroom in a fetal position for the last hour or so of work.
I was planning on going through the lineup calling out all of the Wings who have been under-performing, but quite frankly, I don't have the time. Plus, I don't want it to sound like I'm turning my back on my boys. Depending on how Game 5 goes, maybe I'll be forced to revisit the idea during the extra day off.
I forced myself to read all of the coverage on the several websites that I read. I even made it through the Pens Blog, although that was much easier because they don't seem to be fond of using words. This was an example of one of the many masochistic tendencies that I've picked up over the years as a Wings fan. No matter how much it hurts, I'm drawn to it. Like an insect to a bug-zapper lamp. Or the way you can't help but stare at roadkill. I didn't finish my daily hockey reading until about five minutes ago, thanks to work and a heavy dose of roommate conflicts today. Now that I'm done, I'm thoroughly depressed. I realize that this is pathetic, but it comes with the territory. And you know that. You're the same way. Otherwise you would settle for skimming the sports section and wouldn't be caught within the blast radius of my suddenly violently angry hockey blog.
Babcock says Datsyuk will be in for Game 5. Bingo Bango says that's a lie. I don't know what to believe. I'm choosing not to think about it so that I can make it through ten hours of work tomorrow.
Also according to Bingo Bango, the Tigers are jinxing the Wings. I'm not much of a believer in these kinds of things, but at this point, I'm going to be avoiding anyone with knowledge of the Tigers' score like they have swine flu.
There is one, and only one, glimmer of hope right now. And it is that the Wings have yet to play well. This sounds completely contradictory and nonsensical, I know, but let me explain. They've played like crap for the most part, but still find themselves tied 2-2. So now it's a new series, sort of. And they have the opportunity to turn it around. We'll see if they've got the kind of character we all think they do. It's terrible that they wasted the lead they built in Games 1 and 2, but they're still halfway through the series.
I don't buy the stuff about the Wings being too tired at the end of Game 4. I just think that they checked out somewhere around the mid-point of the game, and thus looked like they couldn't have won a game in a nursing home broomball league.
I'm also not a big believer in game-to-game momentum. Within a game itself, there is most definitely momentum. And it's fairly obvious (or at least I think so, but it could just be that I'm a hockey snob) which team is dominating. But I've never been one to believe that that kind of thing carries over. Anger might, but momentum is the kind of thing that has to be established from the beginning of the game. And it can change on a dime, which is what makes hockey so addicting and also so frustrating. It's why you could walk on air when the Wings win, and vow to never watch another second of hockey in your life when they lose. You know you'll be back, even if it kills you.
What the Wings really need is for their scorers to show up for Game 5. Goals by Darren Helm and Jonny E are fun to talk about and make for a great story-line, but when your back is against the wall, it's time for the big guns to step up and earn their paychecks.
The long story short is that the Wings have the Stanley Cup within their reach. They have it within their power to stick it to Gary Bettman and cement their claim to a dynasty. Whether or not they do so is entirely up to them. If they roll over and die again like they did in Game 4, the series is over and I'll be forced to spend the entirety of next season throwing up in my mouth every thirty seconds when they run a Sidney-Crosby-holding-the-Cup commercial. But if they show up to play like the unstoppable red machine that they are, well, maybe, just maybe, I'll be partying in Hart Plaza again this year.
So tomorrow, I'll wake up and go to work, like I always do. The good news is that I only have a week left at this job, so even if my co-workers think I'm a raving lunatic, it won't matter for long. I'll spend all of my down-time and probably some a significant portion of my busy time desperately attempting to cut a deal with the Hockey Gods. I'll probably swear a lot, because that's what I do when I'm stressed out. And if I'm lucky, I'll get home before the game. It worked last Saturday. But most likely, I'll be standing in front of the TV mesmerized and completely neglecting my job.
And for now...Hockey Gods, if you're listening, just about anything is up for grabs. My car, my Scotty Bowman bobblehead, my soul, my rally rag/security blanket from last year. My Steve Yzerman jersey stays with me, but you're free to claim dibs on my firstborn child, if you're interested.
I was planning on going through the lineup calling out all of the Wings who have been under-performing, but quite frankly, I don't have the time. Plus, I don't want it to sound like I'm turning my back on my boys. Depending on how Game 5 goes, maybe I'll be forced to revisit the idea during the extra day off.
I forced myself to read all of the coverage on the several websites that I read. I even made it through the Pens Blog, although that was much easier because they don't seem to be fond of using words. This was an example of one of the many masochistic tendencies that I've picked up over the years as a Wings fan. No matter how much it hurts, I'm drawn to it. Like an insect to a bug-zapper lamp. Or the way you can't help but stare at roadkill. I didn't finish my daily hockey reading until about five minutes ago, thanks to work and a heavy dose of roommate conflicts today. Now that I'm done, I'm thoroughly depressed. I realize that this is pathetic, but it comes with the territory. And you know that. You're the same way. Otherwise you would settle for skimming the sports section and wouldn't be caught within the blast radius of my suddenly violently angry hockey blog.
Babcock says Datsyuk will be in for Game 5. Bingo Bango says that's a lie. I don't know what to believe. I'm choosing not to think about it so that I can make it through ten hours of work tomorrow.
Also according to Bingo Bango, the Tigers are jinxing the Wings. I'm not much of a believer in these kinds of things, but at this point, I'm going to be avoiding anyone with knowledge of the Tigers' score like they have swine flu.
There is one, and only one, glimmer of hope right now. And it is that the Wings have yet to play well. This sounds completely contradictory and nonsensical, I know, but let me explain. They've played like crap for the most part, but still find themselves tied 2-2. So now it's a new series, sort of. And they have the opportunity to turn it around. We'll see if they've got the kind of character we all think they do. It's terrible that they wasted the lead they built in Games 1 and 2, but they're still halfway through the series.
I don't buy the stuff about the Wings being too tired at the end of Game 4. I just think that they checked out somewhere around the mid-point of the game, and thus looked like they couldn't have won a game in a nursing home broomball league.
I'm also not a big believer in game-to-game momentum. Within a game itself, there is most definitely momentum. And it's fairly obvious (or at least I think so, but it could just be that I'm a hockey snob) which team is dominating. But I've never been one to believe that that kind of thing carries over. Anger might, but momentum is the kind of thing that has to be established from the beginning of the game. And it can change on a dime, which is what makes hockey so addicting and also so frustrating. It's why you could walk on air when the Wings win, and vow to never watch another second of hockey in your life when they lose. You know you'll be back, even if it kills you.
What the Wings really need is for their scorers to show up for Game 5. Goals by Darren Helm and Jonny E are fun to talk about and make for a great story-line, but when your back is against the wall, it's time for the big guns to step up and earn their paychecks.
The long story short is that the Wings have the Stanley Cup within their reach. They have it within their power to stick it to Gary Bettman and cement their claim to a dynasty. Whether or not they do so is entirely up to them. If they roll over and die again like they did in Game 4, the series is over and I'll be forced to spend the entirety of next season throwing up in my mouth every thirty seconds when they run a Sidney-Crosby-holding-the-Cup commercial. But if they show up to play like the unstoppable red machine that they are, well, maybe, just maybe, I'll be partying in Hart Plaza again this year.
So tomorrow, I'll wake up and go to work, like I always do. The good news is that I only have a week left at this job, so even if my co-workers think I'm a raving lunatic, it won't matter for long. I'll spend all of my down-time and probably some a significant portion of my busy time desperately attempting to cut a deal with the Hockey Gods. I'll probably swear a lot, because that's what I do when I'm stressed out. And if I'm lucky, I'll get home before the game. It worked last Saturday. But most likely, I'll be standing in front of the TV mesmerized and completely neglecting my job.
And for now...Hockey Gods, if you're listening, just about anything is up for grabs. My car, my Scotty Bowman bobblehead, my soul, my rally rag/security blanket from last year. My Steve Yzerman jersey stays with me, but you're free to claim dibs on my firstborn child, if you're interested.
Friday, June 5, 2009
Not Worth My Time...
Go away. There's nothing to see here. It's not like I was openly weeping on Woodward or anything. (I actually wasn't. I swear.)
I had a bad feeling about this game right from the start, which combined with the general lousiness of my day has me in that all too frequent playoff mood in which I claim to never wish to see a hockey game again. This will, of course, change. I'll wake up tomorrow and go to work. I'll probably scare some co-workers who happen to look at me the wrong way, and then I'll be back online obsessively reading blogs in search of the latest news. It happens every time.
I woke up in the middle of the night last night after having a dream/nightmare that the game went to OT. Then I drove for an hour to drop some stuff off in my new apartment, and I discovered that the other subletter had stolen my bedroom. So I got to spend a bunch of time on the phone with the girl I'm subletting from trying to straighten things out, and now my new roommate officially hates me. Whatever. I can live with that. I thought maybe an afternoon trip to Ikea would help me commune with the Wings' Swedish legion, but apparently victories are the only thing you can't buy there. Then I headed down to the Hockeytown Cafe with some friends. What happened to all of the fun stuff they were doing in the first round? I was looking forward to the trivia and raffles and pom poms. We ended up in that dive bar up on the top level. My bar stool was so rickety that it took a minor miracle to help it survive the night. It also helped that, much like the Wings, I pretty much shut down halfway through the second period and stopped bouncing up and down every time either team had a scoring chance. To make matters worse, as soon as the game was over, they pumped up the volume and started blasted the Numa Numa song. It was like the final insult of the day. Actually it wasn't, because when we got back to my car, I realized that the gas light was on and it was a race against time to get out of Detroit before being forced to stop at a gas station, which every good suburban girl knows is a major no-no.
On top of that, Datsyuk sat out once again. This time he took the pre-game skate, apparently only in order to drive a knife further through my hopes and dreams while simultaneously ripping out my fingernails. So were we just playing mindgames all day saying he was probably in? Right now, I don't even care. I'm not going to even attempt a recap.
At this point in the series, it's fairly apparent that the only two Red Wings interested in winning the Stanley Cup are Henrik Zetterberg and Darren Helm. Everyone else seems to be just going through the motions. None of them even look like they care. And that's honestly the part that stings the most about this particular loss. Ozzie's really trying, but when you get hung out to dry by your defense like that, there's not a whole lot you can do. I certainly can't blame him for any of the goals he let in.
On the other end of the ice, MAF had a disgustingly easy night. He obviously made the saves when he had to, but there weren't any that stand out in my mind as being spectacular.
Possibly my favorite clip of the night was when Versus showed a freeze-frame of the Penguins entering the zone on the play that led to their first goal. Now I couldn't hear the sound in the bar, but it sure looked like they were offside. Not that it would really matter since the Wings lost by two, but I feel obligated to continue my crusade against the NHL officials.
In the second period, the Wings came out and actually looked pretty good. When they went up less than a minute in, I was starting to feel a strange and rare emotion that must be something akin to happiness. They seemed to be carrying the play. Then they got a powerplay. And they got another one after that. And then Pittsburgh scored. Which, if I'm not mistaken, isn't supposed to happen. Giving up shorthanded goals in the Stanly Cup Finals is simply unacceptable. There's no excuse for it. Not only can they not kill off penalties to save their lives, they can't even make it through their own friggin powerplay without giving up a goal. And to make matters worse, after that, the Wings just seemed to shut down. It was after Crosby's goal that I said, "Oh my god, we're gonna lose this game." I knew it then, deep down. I allowed myself to hope for a little while because if any team can lay down some offensive fire power, it's the Wings, but I didn't really expect it to happen. In my mind I was already concentrating on making excuses for why I won't be attending my softball game on Tuesday.
My second favorite highlight of the night was about halfway through the third when Kirk Maltby decided to return Sidney Crosby's post-Game 1 love tap. Crosby dove in such an epic fashion that I was expecting a panel judges to award points for degree of difficulty. Then, he stayed down on the ice and limped his way back to the bench. Miraculousy, though, he didn't seem to miss a shift. Maybe I'm just old-school, but if you're hurt enough to stay down in your own zone while your team is still trying to clear the puck, then you had better be hurt enough to at least need some work from the trainer. Get back in the play. This isn't basketball, despite what your sugar daddy Bettman may have told you.
I don't know why, but this picture from NHL.com really amused me. I really feel like it sums up the game well.
First off, it looks like Homer's having himself a good cry there. Which is understandable given the amount of turnovers he's given up during this series. Babcock looks like he's whispering sweet nothings into Z's ear (not that I can blame him...). Z looks like he's using some sort of Jedi mind trick on Crosby. Cleary is apparently staring off into space or being distracted by a bumble bee, which I can only assume were popular pass-times on the Wings bench during the second period.
Now I realize that this post has been excessively angry, but that comes with the territory of being a die-hard fan. If you don't like it, then now's about time for you to hop off of the bandwagon. There are ups and there are downs. Right now, it feels like we're stuck at the bottom of the Grand Canyon. But remember Sunday night? We thought we were flying high. Things can turn around that quickly. At least that's what I'm telling myself so that I'll be able to sleep tonight. Tomorrow it's possible that I'll feel better, but probably only if I make a trip to the batting cages. There's something about hitting balls using a large metal bat that I've always found therapeutic.
I had a bad feeling about this game right from the start, which combined with the general lousiness of my day has me in that all too frequent playoff mood in which I claim to never wish to see a hockey game again. This will, of course, change. I'll wake up tomorrow and go to work. I'll probably scare some co-workers who happen to look at me the wrong way, and then I'll be back online obsessively reading blogs in search of the latest news. It happens every time.
I woke up in the middle of the night last night after having a dream/nightmare that the game went to OT. Then I drove for an hour to drop some stuff off in my new apartment, and I discovered that the other subletter had stolen my bedroom. So I got to spend a bunch of time on the phone with the girl I'm subletting from trying to straighten things out, and now my new roommate officially hates me. Whatever. I can live with that. I thought maybe an afternoon trip to Ikea would help me commune with the Wings' Swedish legion, but apparently victories are the only thing you can't buy there. Then I headed down to the Hockeytown Cafe with some friends. What happened to all of the fun stuff they were doing in the first round? I was looking forward to the trivia and raffles and pom poms. We ended up in that dive bar up on the top level. My bar stool was so rickety that it took a minor miracle to help it survive the night. It also helped that, much like the Wings, I pretty much shut down halfway through the second period and stopped bouncing up and down every time either team had a scoring chance. To make matters worse, as soon as the game was over, they pumped up the volume and started blasted the Numa Numa song. It was like the final insult of the day. Actually it wasn't, because when we got back to my car, I realized that the gas light was on and it was a race against time to get out of Detroit before being forced to stop at a gas station, which every good suburban girl knows is a major no-no.
On top of that, Datsyuk sat out once again. This time he took the pre-game skate, apparently only in order to drive a knife further through my hopes and dreams while simultaneously ripping out my fingernails. So were we just playing mindgames all day saying he was probably in? Right now, I don't even care. I'm not going to even attempt a recap.
At this point in the series, it's fairly apparent that the only two Red Wings interested in winning the Stanley Cup are Henrik Zetterberg and Darren Helm. Everyone else seems to be just going through the motions. None of them even look like they care. And that's honestly the part that stings the most about this particular loss. Ozzie's really trying, but when you get hung out to dry by your defense like that, there's not a whole lot you can do. I certainly can't blame him for any of the goals he let in.
On the other end of the ice, MAF had a disgustingly easy night. He obviously made the saves when he had to, but there weren't any that stand out in my mind as being spectacular.
Possibly my favorite clip of the night was when Versus showed a freeze-frame of the Penguins entering the zone on the play that led to their first goal. Now I couldn't hear the sound in the bar, but it sure looked like they were offside. Not that it would really matter since the Wings lost by two, but I feel obligated to continue my crusade against the NHL officials.
In the second period, the Wings came out and actually looked pretty good. When they went up less than a minute in, I was starting to feel a strange and rare emotion that must be something akin to happiness. They seemed to be carrying the play. Then they got a powerplay. And they got another one after that. And then Pittsburgh scored. Which, if I'm not mistaken, isn't supposed to happen. Giving up shorthanded goals in the Stanly Cup Finals is simply unacceptable. There's no excuse for it. Not only can they not kill off penalties to save their lives, they can't even make it through their own friggin powerplay without giving up a goal. And to make matters worse, after that, the Wings just seemed to shut down. It was after Crosby's goal that I said, "Oh my god, we're gonna lose this game." I knew it then, deep down. I allowed myself to hope for a little while because if any team can lay down some offensive fire power, it's the Wings, but I didn't really expect it to happen. In my mind I was already concentrating on making excuses for why I won't be attending my softball game on Tuesday.
My second favorite highlight of the night was about halfway through the third when Kirk Maltby decided to return Sidney Crosby's post-Game 1 love tap. Crosby dove in such an epic fashion that I was expecting a panel judges to award points for degree of difficulty. Then, he stayed down on the ice and limped his way back to the bench. Miraculousy, though, he didn't seem to miss a shift. Maybe I'm just old-school, but if you're hurt enough to stay down in your own zone while your team is still trying to clear the puck, then you had better be hurt enough to at least need some work from the trainer. Get back in the play. This isn't basketball, despite what your sugar daddy Bettman may have told you.
I don't know why, but this picture from NHL.com really amused me. I really feel like it sums up the game well.
First off, it looks like Homer's having himself a good cry there. Which is understandable given the amount of turnovers he's given up during this series. Babcock looks like he's whispering sweet nothings into Z's ear (not that I can blame him...). Z looks like he's using some sort of Jedi mind trick on Crosby. Cleary is apparently staring off into space or being distracted by a bumble bee, which I can only assume were popular pass-times on the Wings bench during the second period.
Now I realize that this post has been excessively angry, but that comes with the territory of being a die-hard fan. If you don't like it, then now's about time for you to hop off of the bandwagon. There are ups and there are downs. Right now, it feels like we're stuck at the bottom of the Grand Canyon. But remember Sunday night? We thought we were flying high. Things can turn around that quickly. At least that's what I'm telling myself so that I'll be able to sleep tonight. Tomorrow it's possible that I'll feel better, but probably only if I make a trip to the batting cages. There's something about hitting balls using a large metal bat that I've always found therapeutic.
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Dangle Dangle Me Tonight...
There wasn't a whole lot going on today. It sounds more and more like Datsyuk is going to be playing in Game 4. Going into Game 3, I figured we'd be a lot more likely to see Dangle Dangle if the Wings lost than if they won. Sure enough, they lost, so here we are. Whether or not it has anything to do with the fact that this is a potential series-tying game is probably not something I'm meant to know.
At any rate, it made me irrationally happy for approximately thirty seconds before I managed to suppress the feeling lest my hopes get too high. Being a Wings fan for all of these years has given me an almost super-power like ability to destroy my own hopes and crush my soul. So it's nice to see that it comes in handy from time to time. It's just that I find it less emotionally distressing to prevent my hopes from ever getting to high so that I don't have to deal with the paralyzing pain that occurs when they all come crashing down. This also possibly explains why I'm still single, but that's neither here nor there.
Also, in case you didn't know, Pavel Datsyuk's hilarious. Seriously. But you knew that already because you've seen this. Today's installment of Pavel Datsyuk's Comedy Hour is courtesy of Puck Daddy.
I've been reading "opposition" blogs for every round of the playoffs this year, and I have to say, The Pens Blog is by far the worst I've come across. I genuinely enjoyed reading Chicago's blogs, and even Anaheim's bloggers managed to not make me angry. But The Pens Blog is an entirely different story. I don't know if it's the stupid photoshops or their inability to compose paragraphs, but it feels like it's being written by fourth graders. I know it's a stupid thing to complain about, but seriously. It's pathetic.
I don't need to say that Game 4 is a must-win. You know it. The Pens know it. The Wings know it. If the boys show up to play, then there's the possibility that I'll be smiling Friday morning. If not, then I'll be frightening my co-workers even more than I did on Tuesday night. I have the day off tomorrow. Thank the Hockey Gods for that. Because, let's face it, I'm going to be useless tomorrow. And if you're a big enough fan to be trolling Wings blogs, then you know exactly what I mean. Enough said.
At any rate, it made me irrationally happy for approximately thirty seconds before I managed to suppress the feeling lest my hopes get too high. Being a Wings fan for all of these years has given me an almost super-power like ability to destroy my own hopes and crush my soul. So it's nice to see that it comes in handy from time to time. It's just that I find it less emotionally distressing to prevent my hopes from ever getting to high so that I don't have to deal with the paralyzing pain that occurs when they all come crashing down. This also possibly explains why I'm still single, but that's neither here nor there.
Also, in case you didn't know, Pavel Datsyuk's hilarious. Seriously. But you knew that already because you've seen this. Today's installment of Pavel Datsyuk's Comedy Hour is courtesy of Puck Daddy.
Datsyuk on having to sit out: "Oh, I tell you, this is not fun to watch. I take in lots of beer."When I read the first quote, I had a mental image of him and Chelios making a drinking game where they chugged beers every time the Wings turned the puck over. The poor man's foot has probably been healed since Saturday. He's just been recovering from Game 1's hangover.
Datsyuk on whether he might play wing in Game 4: "I think at wing, center, defenseman, I want to play so bad."
Datsyuk on how long he'd like to play in Game 4: "The game is 60 minutes. I hope to play 60 minutes. But we make a decision tomorrow morning."
I've been reading "opposition" blogs for every round of the playoffs this year, and I have to say, The Pens Blog is by far the worst I've come across. I genuinely enjoyed reading Chicago's blogs, and even Anaheim's bloggers managed to not make me angry. But The Pens Blog is an entirely different story. I don't know if it's the stupid photoshops or their inability to compose paragraphs, but it feels like it's being written by fourth graders. I know it's a stupid thing to complain about, but seriously. It's pathetic.
I don't need to say that Game 4 is a must-win. You know it. The Pens know it. The Wings know it. If the boys show up to play, then there's the possibility that I'll be smiling Friday morning. If not, then I'll be frightening my co-workers even more than I did on Tuesday night. I have the day off tomorrow. Thank the Hockey Gods for that. Because, let's face it, I'm going to be useless tomorrow. And if you're a big enough fan to be trolling Wings blogs, then you know exactly what I mean. Enough said.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Five! Look, I Could Be an NHL Referee!...
I missed the second half of the game tonight, so I don't have much to say about that. By the time I got around to watching it on my DVR, the bleak reality of the loss had already sunk in, and I found it a little hard to care. I forced myself to watch the whole thing, because I felt some strange, irrational obligation. Or maybe it's just the inherent masochistic tendency that is a mandatory part of being a Red Wings fan.
Anyway, the Wings didn't get off to a particularly good start. If I were a rational, objective person, I might find it amusing how often I recap games this way. But I'm not. And it pisses me off. I understand that every once and a while a team might have an off-game where it takes a little longer to get rolling. It happens. But this consistently, and in the Stanley Cup Finals? Come one. I've been banging my head against walls over this for the better part of eight months now.
Then...Talbot. That name still sends chills down my spine. It just so happens that this was the one-year anniversary of Game 5, aka one of the most horrific nights of my life. And it's fairly obvious that Maxime Talbot was determined to drive another spike through my heart. I don't want to talk any more about the goal, except to once again point out that the Wings' PK absolutely sucks. Like the slow start issue, there's no plausible explanation for this. I like to think I'm a pretty smart girl, and for the life of me, I can't wrap my head around it.
And then there was Zetterberg tying it up with a beautiful shot. There's nothing more to say about this guy. He looks like he's determined to win the Cup all by himself. He didn't have a spectacular regular season, but man is he on a roll now. You just know that every single one of the Penguins is waking up covered in cold sweat and their own urine thanks to the night terrors they're having about Hank and his "will tank."
After the man-love of my brother's life gave the Wings the lead, I was feeling much better than I had all day. I knew it didn't mean much, but it's always more fun to watch when your boys are leading.
The Too Many Men on the Ice Incident really riled me up. I figured that the Wings would be fighting an extra man tonight thanks to all of Pittsburgh's whining about non-calls and Gary Bettman's obvious affection for Sidney Crosby, but I didn't think that would literally mean an extra man. Somewhere, every single Columbus Blue Jackets player and fan is crying in their beer thinking about Franzen's series-clinching powerplay goal at the end of Game 4. I don't want to hear any more complaining from Pittsburgh fans about how the referees are handing the series to the Wings.
Things like this are why the NHL is a joke to most Americans. And it's not a conspiracy. It's incompetence. Incompetence that is allowed to fester by the NHL's refusal to hold its officials accountable for their performance. And far too frequently, that incompetence, like herpes I presume, rears its ugly head and exposes the NHL for the second-rate organization that it is.
I'm not a big football fan, most likely due to growing up with the Lions, but I seem to remember an incident in the fall where a referee blew a call. And it was obvious. And it cost a team a game. And it could have impacted their playoff chances. What did he do afterward? He admitted that he made a mistake and apologized to the team and fans who had been slighted. The NFL said that it grades each official on every play of every game and uses those rankings to determine eligibility to work the playoffs or keep their job. Accordingly, this referee was downgraded. He was held responsible for his mistake, but I had to respect him for his class.
A couple of weeks ago, there was a controversial call in an NBA playoff game. Apparently one team was trying to foul the other near the end of the game, and the foul didn't get called (I've never understood the logic of a sport in which you sometimes want to be called for a foul, but I'm not really a basketball person either.). This non-call cost a team the game because the game-winning three-pointer was scored after the foul should've been called. The NBA came out and publicly admitted that there had been a mistake, and that the mistake had influenced the outcome of the game. While it didn't change the score, at least they at least acknowledged that an error had been made.
Contrast that to the NHL's reaction to things like The Goal That Wasn't. When faced with an obvious travesty of a call, what did the NHL do? It closed ranks and defended Brad Watson, stubbornly refusing to hold him accountable for his poor job-performance. And it's not just calls that have gone against the Wings. It's been happening in almost every game during the playoffs, league-wide. The worst part, other than taking the game out of the players' hands, is that it makes the league, the sport, and the rabid fans like myself look like complete jokes. It's been going on for a long time, and Gary Bettman's ignorance of the problem, refusal to implement changes, and/or complete and utter disregard for its effects on the game is almost criminal.
OK, back to the game.
Shortly after Pittsburgh's free mini-powerplay, they got a real one. It was during this powerplay that I almost screamed at the bartender because she leaned in and stuck her face right in front of mine to ask if I wanted anything to drink right as Crosby was breaking toward Ozzie with the puck. From the look on my face and the fact that I was literally sitting in a vertical fetal position in my chair, she clearly should've been able to tell that I was not in need of a beverage. Medical attention, perhaps, but not a beverage. She never came back after that. It's possible that I frightened her.
The Wings looked much better during the second period. They really carried the play for most of the time, but didn't seem to get the kind of traffic in front of the net that they usually do. I noticed this a lot more while I was watching it on my DVR because I wasn't completely losing my mind in the heat of the moment. There were several instances where loose pucks and rebounds were cleared from in front of the net because the Wings hadn't driven to the net.
Sammy had a breakaway. He hit the post. What else would you expect from a Mikael Samuelsson breakaway, though? At least he put it sort of on net...sort of.
Helm had a little bit of a rough night today. I think the Pens were tired of him running around them in circles and decided to teach him a lesson. He almost got his face sliced open with a skate after getting knocked down, so at least we know the kid has some luck around him.
Kunitz had a nice little cross-check to Franzen's head. What can I say? Once a Duck, always a Duck. Seems like Pronger.You.Goon has taught him well. On the other hand, it was nice to see the national announcers calling the Penguins out for a change. They seemed as incredulous as I was that the Too Many Men Incident wasn't called, and outright said that Kunitz was lucky to have gotten away with that.
The Ericsson penalty was pretty cheap, especially in light of the way things have been called all series. My softball team officially thinks I'm nuts thanks to the goal scored on the ensuing powerplay. I had a friend texting me score updates, and I pulled my phone out in between plays, saw that the Pens had taken the lead, and immediately began to cuss while standing in the middle of the infield. Mostly they were confused because one of our outfielders had just made a really good catch and everyone else was clapping and congratulating him.
(I realize at this point that I've spent a significant amount of time complaining about the officiating. That isn't entirely fair. The Wings couldn't find a way to score in the second period when they dominated, and then they let the Pens have their way with them for most of the third. Still, I demand excellence from myself at school and work, and I don't think it's unreasonable to expect the same level of performance from professional referees who have been chosen, presumably for their expertise [although in the NHL, that has to be considered a relative term], to work in the championship series. Sure, my standards are a little high, but I don't think that's unreasonable.)
Babcock sounded pretty riled up at his presser. It wasn't so much what he said as the way he said it. He wouldn't take the bait when the reporter asked him about the Too Many Men Incident, and just walked away. I also have to say that at this point, the Pens' coach hasn't managed to make me angry yet. In fact, it seems like he's actually...a decent guy. I suspect that it's because he's from Michigan. We're a little better class of folks up here in the Mitten.
That's all I have for now. This loss hurts a lot and I'm not in much of a mood to relive it. I didn't really think they were going to sweep, but it would've felt so nice. Plus, now I have to find someone to cover my shift Saturday night so I can watch Game 5.
Anyway, the Wings didn't get off to a particularly good start. If I were a rational, objective person, I might find it amusing how often I recap games this way. But I'm not. And it pisses me off. I understand that every once and a while a team might have an off-game where it takes a little longer to get rolling. It happens. But this consistently, and in the Stanley Cup Finals? Come one. I've been banging my head against walls over this for the better part of eight months now.
Then...Talbot. That name still sends chills down my spine. It just so happens that this was the one-year anniversary of Game 5, aka one of the most horrific nights of my life. And it's fairly obvious that Maxime Talbot was determined to drive another spike through my heart. I don't want to talk any more about the goal, except to once again point out that the Wings' PK absolutely sucks. Like the slow start issue, there's no plausible explanation for this. I like to think I'm a pretty smart girl, and for the life of me, I can't wrap my head around it.
And then there was Zetterberg tying it up with a beautiful shot. There's nothing more to say about this guy. He looks like he's determined to win the Cup all by himself. He didn't have a spectacular regular season, but man is he on a roll now. You just know that every single one of the Penguins is waking up covered in cold sweat and their own urine thanks to the night terrors they're having about Hank and his "will tank."
After the man-love of my brother's life gave the Wings the lead, I was feeling much better than I had all day. I knew it didn't mean much, but it's always more fun to watch when your boys are leading.
The Too Many Men on the Ice Incident really riled me up. I figured that the Wings would be fighting an extra man tonight thanks to all of Pittsburgh's whining about non-calls and Gary Bettman's obvious affection for Sidney Crosby, but I didn't think that would literally mean an extra man. Somewhere, every single Columbus Blue Jackets player and fan is crying in their beer thinking about Franzen's series-clinching powerplay goal at the end of Game 4. I don't want to hear any more complaining from Pittsburgh fans about how the referees are handing the series to the Wings.
Things like this are why the NHL is a joke to most Americans. And it's not a conspiracy. It's incompetence. Incompetence that is allowed to fester by the NHL's refusal to hold its officials accountable for their performance. And far too frequently, that incompetence, like herpes I presume, rears its ugly head and exposes the NHL for the second-rate organization that it is.
I'm not a big football fan, most likely due to growing up with the Lions, but I seem to remember an incident in the fall where a referee blew a call. And it was obvious. And it cost a team a game. And it could have impacted their playoff chances. What did he do afterward? He admitted that he made a mistake and apologized to the team and fans who had been slighted. The NFL said that it grades each official on every play of every game and uses those rankings to determine eligibility to work the playoffs or keep their job. Accordingly, this referee was downgraded. He was held responsible for his mistake, but I had to respect him for his class.
A couple of weeks ago, there was a controversial call in an NBA playoff game. Apparently one team was trying to foul the other near the end of the game, and the foul didn't get called (I've never understood the logic of a sport in which you sometimes want to be called for a foul, but I'm not really a basketball person either.). This non-call cost a team the game because the game-winning three-pointer was scored after the foul should've been called. The NBA came out and publicly admitted that there had been a mistake, and that the mistake had influenced the outcome of the game. While it didn't change the score, at least they at least acknowledged that an error had been made.
Contrast that to the NHL's reaction to things like The Goal That Wasn't. When faced with an obvious travesty of a call, what did the NHL do? It closed ranks and defended Brad Watson, stubbornly refusing to hold him accountable for his poor job-performance. And it's not just calls that have gone against the Wings. It's been happening in almost every game during the playoffs, league-wide. The worst part, other than taking the game out of the players' hands, is that it makes the league, the sport, and the rabid fans like myself look like complete jokes. It's been going on for a long time, and Gary Bettman's ignorance of the problem, refusal to implement changes, and/or complete and utter disregard for its effects on the game is almost criminal.
OK, back to the game.
Shortly after Pittsburgh's free mini-powerplay, they got a real one. It was during this powerplay that I almost screamed at the bartender because she leaned in and stuck her face right in front of mine to ask if I wanted anything to drink right as Crosby was breaking toward Ozzie with the puck. From the look on my face and the fact that I was literally sitting in a vertical fetal position in my chair, she clearly should've been able to tell that I was not in need of a beverage. Medical attention, perhaps, but not a beverage. She never came back after that. It's possible that I frightened her.
The Wings looked much better during the second period. They really carried the play for most of the time, but didn't seem to get the kind of traffic in front of the net that they usually do. I noticed this a lot more while I was watching it on my DVR because I wasn't completely losing my mind in the heat of the moment. There were several instances where loose pucks and rebounds were cleared from in front of the net because the Wings hadn't driven to the net.
Sammy had a breakaway. He hit the post. What else would you expect from a Mikael Samuelsson breakaway, though? At least he put it sort of on net...sort of.
Helm had a little bit of a rough night today. I think the Pens were tired of him running around them in circles and decided to teach him a lesson. He almost got his face sliced open with a skate after getting knocked down, so at least we know the kid has some luck around him.
Kunitz had a nice little cross-check to Franzen's head. What can I say? Once a Duck, always a Duck. Seems like Pronger.You.Goon has taught him well. On the other hand, it was nice to see the national announcers calling the Penguins out for a change. They seemed as incredulous as I was that the Too Many Men Incident wasn't called, and outright said that Kunitz was lucky to have gotten away with that.
The Ericsson penalty was pretty cheap, especially in light of the way things have been called all series. My softball team officially thinks I'm nuts thanks to the goal scored on the ensuing powerplay. I had a friend texting me score updates, and I pulled my phone out in between plays, saw that the Pens had taken the lead, and immediately began to cuss while standing in the middle of the infield. Mostly they were confused because one of our outfielders had just made a really good catch and everyone else was clapping and congratulating him.
(I realize at this point that I've spent a significant amount of time complaining about the officiating. That isn't entirely fair. The Wings couldn't find a way to score in the second period when they dominated, and then they let the Pens have their way with them for most of the third. Still, I demand excellence from myself at school and work, and I don't think it's unreasonable to expect the same level of performance from professional referees who have been chosen, presumably for their expertise [although in the NHL, that has to be considered a relative term], to work in the championship series. Sure, my standards are a little high, but I don't think that's unreasonable.)
Babcock sounded pretty riled up at his presser. It wasn't so much what he said as the way he said it. He wouldn't take the bait when the reporter asked him about the Too Many Men Incident, and just walked away. I also have to say that at this point, the Pens' coach hasn't managed to make me angry yet. In fact, it seems like he's actually...a decent guy. I suspect that it's because he's from Michigan. We're a little better class of folks up here in the Mitten.
That's all I have for now. This loss hurts a lot and I'm not in much of a mood to relive it. I didn't really think they were going to sweep, but it would've felt so nice. Plus, now I have to find someone to cover my shift Saturday night so I can watch Game 5.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Hossa to Stay?...
This isn't something I would normally post on a game day during the Stanley Cup Finals, but it brought a smile to my face. From Si.com via 97.1 The Ticket:
In actual playoff related news, it sounds like Mikael Samuelsson might miss tonight's game. Swapping him for Draper wouldn't be the worst thing just for faceoffs, but Sammy's got a little bit more of a scoring touch. We'll see what happens. I'm a little ambivalent at this point, but mostly I'm just upset about having to miss the last half of the game to play softball with a team that I never wanted to join in the first place. I don't know who these people think they are scheduling softball games during the Stanley Cup Finals, but I'm of the opinion that the entire region should be shut down during Wings playoff games. I've never missed so much as a second of Finals action in my life up until this point, and I've already missed more of the playoffs this year than ever before due mostly to softball. Not even last year when we didn't have cable. You would've thought I was an alcoholic if you looked at my credit card receipts from all of the hours I spent at bars watching hockey games.
"While nothing will be announced during the Stanley Cup final, unrestricted free agent Marian Hossa likely will be signing a long-term deal, believed to be seven years, to stay with the Red Wings . . ."Obviously we won't hear anything official for a while, and I haven't seen this posted anywhere else, but it could be a beautiful thing. Or go spectacularly wrong if it costs the Wings all of their vaunted depth. One thing I know for sure, though, is that I trust Kenny Holland. If he thinks it's a good idea, I'll get behind it and make posters.
In actual playoff related news, it sounds like Mikael Samuelsson might miss tonight's game. Swapping him for Draper wouldn't be the worst thing just for faceoffs, but Sammy's got a little bit more of a scoring touch. We'll see what happens. I'm a little ambivalent at this point, but mostly I'm just upset about having to miss the last half of the game to play softball with a team that I never wanted to join in the first place. I don't know who these people think they are scheduling softball games during the Stanley Cup Finals, but I'm of the opinion that the entire region should be shut down during Wings playoff games. I've never missed so much as a second of Finals action in my life up until this point, and I've already missed more of the playoffs this year than ever before due mostly to softball. Not even last year when we didn't have cable. You would've thought I was an alcoholic if you looked at my credit card receipts from all of the hours I spent at bars watching hockey games.
Bless You, Boys...
On the day in which GM filed for bankruptcy, I felt the need to write about how much the Wings actually mean to this city right now. A run like this is transformative to an area that's going through tough times. I've seen it time and time again.
In 2006, my family was struggling to get by financially. On top of that, we lost my grandmother that September. We were, for the most part, utterly miserable. But the Tigers' World Series run gave us hope. It was something positive to focus on; something to look forward to. We sat and watched almost every game of the postseason together, and while those few hours a day didn't make our problems go away, they gave us a brief release from the depressing grind that our daily lives had become. The Tigers lost that year, but they helped get me and the rest of my family through the toughest few months of our lives. Even though they didn't win, they were a blessing to our family. If that sounds irrational, you probably don't belong reading a sports blog. Every time I think about it, I can still picture all six of us crowding around our one TV that got antenna reception watching the World Series while Ernie Harwell's voice took me right back to my childhood summers. It still gives me chills.
The same thing occurred last year with the Wings. While the metro area wasn't in nearly as bad of a shape financially as it is right now, we were mired in the Kwame Kilpatrick scandal. It was a disgrace, and we once again found ourselves as a punchline for comedians who could never understand us. Things had taken on an "us vs. them" aspect as suburban folks almost universally called for Kwame to be deposed while Detroiters seemed to view criticism of him as a knock on all of them. And then there were the Wings. They united us once again. They gave us common ground on which to come together. It did nothing to change the political realities that we faced as a region, but it sure made us feel a lot better. I was at Joe Vision the night the Wings won, and after the game, my friend and I were walking to the Joe parking garage, and we found ourselves weaving through traffic running and screaming with hundreds of strangers as cars honked their horns and people leaned out of windows to give us high-fives.
During the parade, the City of Detroit float jackknifed as the truck towing it attempted to make the U-turn in front of Cobo. In order to get it around the corner and reattached to the truck hauling it, the parade staff called for people from the crowd to help push it. My brother and I, lifelong suburbanites, ran in from the sidewalk and helped a bunch of strangers, likely also from the suburbs, push the float around the corner so that it could be hooked up to the truck. I thought it was deliciously ironic that, of all the floats, it was the City of Detroit one that needed our help to make it around the corner so that it didn't hold up the parade. I'll also never forget standing in Hart Plaza while the crowd booed so loudly that it drowned out Kwame's speech, even over the loudspeakers. It didn't matter what he was saying, only that he was the one saying it. For the life of me, I'll never understand why he had the nerve to show up at our party, but I don't think I'm meant to. I don't think I want that kind of insight into a mind like his.
And for a couple of weeks in June of last year, we celebrated. While we weren't the ones on the ice, we felt like part of the team. No other city adopts its sports stars like we do. Nobody cares that most of the guys were born in Sweden or Russia or Canada. We don't care. When they pull on a Detroit sports jersey, they become one of us. It felt like we ourselves had won something. We could point to the Wings and say, "See, not everything from Detroit is a screw-up." We may not be able to keep our jobs, or elect competent leadership, but damned if we don't play some fine hockey.
And so we find ourselves a year later, in June 2009. Kwame's long gone, thankfully someone else's problem now. Yet we find ourselves even worse off than a year ago. Both GM and Chrysler have filed for bankruptcy, and Ford is barely hanging on. People are losing jobs left and right, every day seems to bring more bad news, and it seems like there are more 'For Sale' signs than trees in our subdivisions. This time next year, I'll almost certainly be joining the ranks of transplanted Michiganians forced to watch the home that I love struggle for survival from afar. But there are the Red Wings, beacons of hope for as long as I can remember. They're once again serving as a positive distraction to give folks around here a few hours of joy, or at least the occasion to stress about something other than paying the bills.
And, honestly, what more can you ask of a sports team?
In 2006, my family was struggling to get by financially. On top of that, we lost my grandmother that September. We were, for the most part, utterly miserable. But the Tigers' World Series run gave us hope. It was something positive to focus on; something to look forward to. We sat and watched almost every game of the postseason together, and while those few hours a day didn't make our problems go away, they gave us a brief release from the depressing grind that our daily lives had become. The Tigers lost that year, but they helped get me and the rest of my family through the toughest few months of our lives. Even though they didn't win, they were a blessing to our family. If that sounds irrational, you probably don't belong reading a sports blog. Every time I think about it, I can still picture all six of us crowding around our one TV that got antenna reception watching the World Series while Ernie Harwell's voice took me right back to my childhood summers. It still gives me chills.
The same thing occurred last year with the Wings. While the metro area wasn't in nearly as bad of a shape financially as it is right now, we were mired in the Kwame Kilpatrick scandal. It was a disgrace, and we once again found ourselves as a punchline for comedians who could never understand us. Things had taken on an "us vs. them" aspect as suburban folks almost universally called for Kwame to be deposed while Detroiters seemed to view criticism of him as a knock on all of them. And then there were the Wings. They united us once again. They gave us common ground on which to come together. It did nothing to change the political realities that we faced as a region, but it sure made us feel a lot better. I was at Joe Vision the night the Wings won, and after the game, my friend and I were walking to the Joe parking garage, and we found ourselves weaving through traffic running and screaming with hundreds of strangers as cars honked their horns and people leaned out of windows to give us high-fives.
During the parade, the City of Detroit float jackknifed as the truck towing it attempted to make the U-turn in front of Cobo. In order to get it around the corner and reattached to the truck hauling it, the parade staff called for people from the crowd to help push it. My brother and I, lifelong suburbanites, ran in from the sidewalk and helped a bunch of strangers, likely also from the suburbs, push the float around the corner so that it could be hooked up to the truck. I thought it was deliciously ironic that, of all the floats, it was the City of Detroit one that needed our help to make it around the corner so that it didn't hold up the parade. I'll also never forget standing in Hart Plaza while the crowd booed so loudly that it drowned out Kwame's speech, even over the loudspeakers. It didn't matter what he was saying, only that he was the one saying it. For the life of me, I'll never understand why he had the nerve to show up at our party, but I don't think I'm meant to. I don't think I want that kind of insight into a mind like his.
And for a couple of weeks in June of last year, we celebrated. While we weren't the ones on the ice, we felt like part of the team. No other city adopts its sports stars like we do. Nobody cares that most of the guys were born in Sweden or Russia or Canada. We don't care. When they pull on a Detroit sports jersey, they become one of us. It felt like we ourselves had won something. We could point to the Wings and say, "See, not everything from Detroit is a screw-up." We may not be able to keep our jobs, or elect competent leadership, but damned if we don't play some fine hockey.
And so we find ourselves a year later, in June 2009. Kwame's long gone, thankfully someone else's problem now. Yet we find ourselves even worse off than a year ago. Both GM and Chrysler have filed for bankruptcy, and Ford is barely hanging on. People are losing jobs left and right, every day seems to bring more bad news, and it seems like there are more 'For Sale' signs than trees in our subdivisions. This time next year, I'll almost certainly be joining the ranks of transplanted Michiganians forced to watch the home that I love struggle for survival from afar. But there are the Red Wings, beacons of hope for as long as I can remember. They're once again serving as a positive distraction to give folks around here a few hours of joy, or at least the occasion to stress about something other than paying the bills.
And, honestly, what more can you ask of a sports team?
Monday, June 1, 2009
Exoneration for Hossa...
It's kind of amusing to think about in the few rational, objective moments that I suffer through, but I'm still hovering in a state of near-panic despite the fact that my boys are leading the series 2-0. I have my reasons (they haven't played particularly well, Datsyuk's still out and not likely to return, and Malkin continues to terrify me), but I just can't imagine a lot of other fans still wallowing in fear when their team was leading a series like that. It's okay, though. It's how I know that I'm hard core.
I wanted to post this, which I stole from A2Y, which apparently received it from someone else. I'm not 100% on the chain of custody, but here it is:
This clearly showsHossa slashing Dupuis' stick in half Dupuis breaking his own stick on Hossa's foot. That dirty, no-good Hossa! How dare he allow Dupuis to break his stick over his foot before stealing the puck? I tell ya, it's guys like him who are really ruining the game of hockey.
Most of what I'm getting from the Pens fans has sounded a lot like whining. It's perfectly understandable when you consider who their Captain is, so I'll let it slide.
The media is still giving plenty of "lip service" to Crosby and his band of merry flightless birds. This, of all of the things the NHL does, is the one that will never cease to amaze me. I'll write about this more later. I'm going to hold off on it until somebody takes home a trophy that means something.
All of a sudden, people are paying a lot of attention to the Wings' rookies. Normally when your minor-leaguers are called on to substitute for injured stars in the playoffs, that doesn't bode well for your team. Instead, they're driving point production. Why? The top two lines are pretty much cancelling each other out with good defensive plays. That leaves the kids to run wild and work their magic. I said it in my series preview: "Even if the Wings have to "cancel out" their top two lines defending Crosby and Malkin, I like their odds in a battle of third and fourth lines. I've said it ten million times over the course of my fandom, but the Wings bottom lines just can't be matched by anyone else in the league." It looks like I was right. Also, you know, the part about Zetterberg owning Crosby again.
I wanted to post this, which I stole from A2Y, which apparently received it from someone else. I'm not 100% on the chain of custody, but here it is:
This clearly shows
Most of what I'm getting from the Pens fans has sounded a lot like whining. It's perfectly understandable when you consider who their Captain is, so I'll let it slide.
The media is still giving plenty of "lip service" to Crosby and his band of merry flightless birds. This, of all of the things the NHL does, is the one that will never cease to amaze me. I'll write about this more later. I'm going to hold off on it until somebody takes home a trophy that means something.
All of a sudden, people are paying a lot of attention to the Wings' rookies. Normally when your minor-leaguers are called on to substitute for injured stars in the playoffs, that doesn't bode well for your team. Instead, they're driving point production. Why? The top two lines are pretty much cancelling each other out with good defensive plays. That leaves the kids to run wild and work their magic. I said it in my series preview: "Even if the Wings have to "cancel out" their top two lines defending Crosby and Malkin, I like their odds in a battle of third and fourth lines. I've said it ten million times over the course of my fandom, but the Wings bottom lines just can't be matched by anyone else in the league." It looks like I was right. Also, you know, the part about Zetterberg owning Crosby again.
Oh Oh, We're Halfway There...
I said one thing before the Finals started, and I'll say it again. When they write the book on this series, the story is going to be that of Henrik Zetterberg vs. Crosby/Malkin. Sure there might be some subplots about depth, rookies, lively boards, and goalies, but the heart of the story is going to be written by the reigning Conn Smythe winner and his defensive match-ups. (If Datsyuk were playing, he'd be co-protagonist, but he's not.) And tonight continued to prove me right.
First of all, I have to congratulate Marc-Andre Fleury, who managed to go a whole game without shitting a puck into his own net. Unless you count Abdelkader's goal, that is.
Secondly, I learned a very important lesson tonight. Eating rice with chopsticks while watching playoff hockey is a really good way to nearly poke your own eye out. Or to choke. Yeah, I had not one, but two near-death experiences whilst trying to eat the nasty fried rice that was left in the fridge.
The Wings had an average start. Their first couple of shifts looked tentative, but they improved after than. Then, somewhere around the ten-minute mark, they decided that it was nap-time or snack time or time to look at Swedish porn or...something. Who knows? Whatever it was caused them to completely check out of the game. Accordingly, Pittsburgh scored their first and only goal of the game. Well, sort of. Brad Stuart made like Marc-Andre Fleury and put the puck in his own net on the PK. I spent the rest of the period counting down the time until intermission. The Wings were incredibly lucky to escape the first only down by a goal.
During that intermission, Mike Babcock, sports psychology genius, must've given one hell of a pep talk, because the Wings decided to re-enter the game. From that point on, it was all Detroit, on the scoreboard at least. Even though the Wings scored three straight goals, and held the Pens off for the rest of the night, Pittsburgh had way too many good chances for my liking. The good news is that the Wings continued to get the bounces and lucky breaks that stole the show in Game 1.
At one point, Z saved a goal by laying down on the goal line and blocking the puck. The play went under review, and accordingly, I nearly passed out from holding my breath, but my rational mind knew that there was no way they could overrule the ref's no-goal call. There simply was no camera angle that showed anything. That puck may very well have been over the goal line. Was it? I suspect only Henrik Zetterberg knows that, and I doubt he's willing to tell. Z played yet another amazing game, not that I'd expect anything less from the man. Once again, he's owned Crosby. Seriously, though. Z's been an absolute beast on the defensive side of the puck. This is how he gets his jollies. Some people get drunk, some people go sky-diving, some people live vicariously through themselves. Hank simply selects a target and completely owns said hockey player. Not only is he owning Crosby, but he seems to have gotten to Malkin, as well. I think he's inside every single one of the Penguins' heads, like Mel Gibson in that stupid movie. He knows every single one of their deepest, darkest thoughts. Such as: Max Talbot wants to have Z's children, MAF is having liposuction as soon as this series is over, and Bill Guerin is jealous of his beard. These are just a few of the less disturbing revelations that Z has come across, but I assure you, there are many, many more.
The Grand Rapids Griffins once again stole the show. Ericsson and Helm teamed up for the tying goal, with Helm winning the faceoff and heading straight to the front of the net to set up a screen. Abdelkader scored another early third period goal (this one at 2:47, one second later than his goal in Game 1). This is from A2Y, and pretty much says it all: "And meanwhile, maybe all those Pittsburgh fans were right. Maybe they can beat Detroit. But the question they should be asking is, can they beat the Grand Rapids Griffins? Justin Abdelkader and Jonathon Ericsson tonite. Abdelkader last night. Darren Helm all night, both nights. Like a frigging porn star." There's really nothing I can add to that. It has to be supremely frustrating for the Pens, what with their expectation of being able to walk all over the Wings with Dangle Dangle out and Lidstrom coming back from an injury, to find themselves being beaten by a bunch of kids who spent the whole regular season in the minors. No wonder Malkin went after Z at the end of the game.
Speaking of said fight, after a review process which lasted approximately .0347 seconds, the NHL announced that it was rescinding Malkin's automatic suspension. I'm not remotely surprised. It's a stupid rule anyway on account that it's almost never enforced. I have to say that I didn't enjoy it as much as I normally would, due to the fact that I was yelling, "Please don't break your face, or your hand, or veins in your brain!" I'd be lying, though, if I said I wasn't secretly hoping for Z to make like Darren McCarty in his classic New Year's Eve fight. Anyway, it just looked like a lot of frustration boiling over from a team that's probably played well enough to win, and yet finds themselves staring down the barrel of yet another 2-0 deficit. It would've been nice of Malkin to put his stick down before throwing punches, but at this point in the playoffs, I'll take what I can get. I've honestly never had a problem with Malkin before, but I think a little less of him now. Mostly for going after Z when he was being held back by the ref and clearly wanted no part of it. Satan tried to jump in and double team Z, but he apparently decided that it wasn't worth it. I hope I wasn't the only one amused by the fact that Malkin somehow ended up with both his and Z's jerseys attached to him.
Malkin probably shouldn't be the one who is frustrated, though. He's been in on both of the Pens' goals this series, and scared the crap out of me nearly every time he touched the puck. That's why they need Datsyuk back. They need him to work his magic on Malkin since Z's doing another spectacular job owning Crosby. The other Pens forward who consistently scared me was Miroslav Satan. I don't know why, but I heard his name called entirely too much inside the Wings' zone.
I know I mentioned Darren Helm earlier, but I really can't say enough about this kid. Kenny Holland needs to sign him to a long-term deal now while his price is still cheap. Once again, it seemed like he never left the ice. I decided that this is because he never has "invisible" shifts. Every single time he's out on the ice, he's doing something positive, whether it's forechecking, backchecking, checking, or even just skating really, really fast. Some guys have games in which you don't notice them until late in the third period, and you find yourself wondering where they've been for the whole game. Not so for Darren Helm. And I wouldn't have it any other way.
Ozzie played another fantastic game tonight. But for Stuart knocking that puck in, he might've pitched a shutout. As good as some of his saves were, he got a lot of help from his old buddies, the goal posts. Also, I think he's been taking puck-handling lessons from Dominick Hasek. I'm not sure he passed the puck to a Red Wing once all game. I was having flashbacks to all of the times I wanted to install a dog fence around the crease and give Dom a zap collar. I even own one now, so it would've been easy. (A dog fence, not a Hasek.)
Hossa also had a heck of a game. He knows that his psyche is on the line in this series, and it doesn't look like he wants to live with the emotional trauma that would result from choosing the wrong team to sign with. He very quietly turned in two assists.
And, just because he's so good that he often goes unnoticed/unmentioned...how about Nick Lidstrom? Two games, two goals allowed against the super-hyped Pittsburgh offense? Z gets a lot of the credit for his work on Crosby, but my God, it seems like Lidstrom's always there. Just when you think disaster is imminent, the Swede negates the play and then, presumably, returns to his hammock and Corona. Seriously. He's that relaxed. He should be in one of their commercials.
So now the series shifts to Pittsburgh, where hopefully Jean-Claude Van Damme doesn't need to make an appearance. With the Pens having the last change, it'll be harder to get the match-ups the Wings would like against the Crosby and Malkin lines. I wouldn't be surprised to see a little line-shuffling going on, but then again, Babs might not want to mess with a winning formula. I've got my fingers crossed that Datsyuk will be back, and I'm trying to work out a deal with the Hockey Gods, but I'm not all that optimistic. Filppula's done a decent job on Malkin in his absence, but, let's face it, you don't just replace Dangle Dangle.
The scary thing is that the Wings haven't played a real "Red Wings hockey" game yet this series. And yet they find themselves up 2-0 against the Penguins. If the Wings can bring their A-game on the road Tuesday/Thursday and get #13 back in the lineup, this might be a shorter series than everyone's predicting. One thing is for sure: they'll need to play better than they have been if they plan on keeping their home ice advantage. And you know that every man in a Penguins sweater is praying to the Hockey Gods that the Wings keep playing the way they have been. These two games could've gone either way, and it's mostly through good luck, some big saves, and the fourth line working its collective ass off that the Wings find themselves in this position.
The bottom line is: Sidney Crosby, Evgeni Malkin, and I will all be dreaming about Henrik Zetterberg tonight, but for decidedly different reasons...
First of all, I have to congratulate Marc-Andre Fleury, who managed to go a whole game without shitting a puck into his own net. Unless you count Abdelkader's goal, that is.
Secondly, I learned a very important lesson tonight. Eating rice with chopsticks while watching playoff hockey is a really good way to nearly poke your own eye out. Or to choke. Yeah, I had not one, but two near-death experiences whilst trying to eat the nasty fried rice that was left in the fridge.
The Wings had an average start. Their first couple of shifts looked tentative, but they improved after than. Then, somewhere around the ten-minute mark, they decided that it was nap-time or snack time or time to look at Swedish porn or...something. Who knows? Whatever it was caused them to completely check out of the game. Accordingly, Pittsburgh scored their first and only goal of the game. Well, sort of. Brad Stuart made like Marc-Andre Fleury and put the puck in his own net on the PK. I spent the rest of the period counting down the time until intermission. The Wings were incredibly lucky to escape the first only down by a goal.
During that intermission, Mike Babcock, sports psychology genius, must've given one hell of a pep talk, because the Wings decided to re-enter the game. From that point on, it was all Detroit, on the scoreboard at least. Even though the Wings scored three straight goals, and held the Pens off for the rest of the night, Pittsburgh had way too many good chances for my liking. The good news is that the Wings continued to get the bounces and lucky breaks that stole the show in Game 1.
At one point, Z saved a goal by laying down on the goal line and blocking the puck. The play went under review, and accordingly, I nearly passed out from holding my breath, but my rational mind knew that there was no way they could overrule the ref's no-goal call. There simply was no camera angle that showed anything. That puck may very well have been over the goal line. Was it? I suspect only Henrik Zetterberg knows that, and I doubt he's willing to tell. Z played yet another amazing game, not that I'd expect anything less from the man. Once again, he's owned Crosby. Seriously, though. Z's been an absolute beast on the defensive side of the puck. This is how he gets his jollies. Some people get drunk, some people go sky-diving, some people live vicariously through themselves. Hank simply selects a target and completely owns said hockey player. Not only is he owning Crosby, but he seems to have gotten to Malkin, as well. I think he's inside every single one of the Penguins' heads, like Mel Gibson in that stupid movie. He knows every single one of their deepest, darkest thoughts. Such as: Max Talbot wants to have Z's children, MAF is having liposuction as soon as this series is over, and Bill Guerin is jealous of his beard. These are just a few of the less disturbing revelations that Z has come across, but I assure you, there are many, many more.
The Grand Rapids Griffins once again stole the show. Ericsson and Helm teamed up for the tying goal, with Helm winning the faceoff and heading straight to the front of the net to set up a screen. Abdelkader scored another early third period goal (this one at 2:47, one second later than his goal in Game 1). This is from A2Y, and pretty much says it all: "And meanwhile, maybe all those Pittsburgh fans were right. Maybe they can beat Detroit. But the question they should be asking is, can they beat the Grand Rapids Griffins? Justin Abdelkader and Jonathon Ericsson tonite. Abdelkader last night. Darren Helm all night, both nights. Like a frigging porn star." There's really nothing I can add to that. It has to be supremely frustrating for the Pens, what with their expectation of being able to walk all over the Wings with Dangle Dangle out and Lidstrom coming back from an injury, to find themselves being beaten by a bunch of kids who spent the whole regular season in the minors. No wonder Malkin went after Z at the end of the game.
Speaking of said fight, after a review process which lasted approximately .0347 seconds, the NHL announced that it was rescinding Malkin's automatic suspension. I'm not remotely surprised. It's a stupid rule anyway on account that it's almost never enforced. I have to say that I didn't enjoy it as much as I normally would, due to the fact that I was yelling, "Please don't break your face, or your hand, or veins in your brain!" I'd be lying, though, if I said I wasn't secretly hoping for Z to make like Darren McCarty in his classic New Year's Eve fight. Anyway, it just looked like a lot of frustration boiling over from a team that's probably played well enough to win, and yet finds themselves staring down the barrel of yet another 2-0 deficit. It would've been nice of Malkin to put his stick down before throwing punches, but at this point in the playoffs, I'll take what I can get. I've honestly never had a problem with Malkin before, but I think a little less of him now. Mostly for going after Z when he was being held back by the ref and clearly wanted no part of it. Satan tried to jump in and double team Z, but he apparently decided that it wasn't worth it. I hope I wasn't the only one amused by the fact that Malkin somehow ended up with both his and Z's jerseys attached to him.
Malkin probably shouldn't be the one who is frustrated, though. He's been in on both of the Pens' goals this series, and scared the crap out of me nearly every time he touched the puck. That's why they need Datsyuk back. They need him to work his magic on Malkin since Z's doing another spectacular job owning Crosby. The other Pens forward who consistently scared me was Miroslav Satan. I don't know why, but I heard his name called entirely too much inside the Wings' zone.
I know I mentioned Darren Helm earlier, but I really can't say enough about this kid. Kenny Holland needs to sign him to a long-term deal now while his price is still cheap. Once again, it seemed like he never left the ice. I decided that this is because he never has "invisible" shifts. Every single time he's out on the ice, he's doing something positive, whether it's forechecking, backchecking, checking, or even just skating really, really fast. Some guys have games in which you don't notice them until late in the third period, and you find yourself wondering where they've been for the whole game. Not so for Darren Helm. And I wouldn't have it any other way.
Ozzie played another fantastic game tonight. But for Stuart knocking that puck in, he might've pitched a shutout. As good as some of his saves were, he got a lot of help from his old buddies, the goal posts. Also, I think he's been taking puck-handling lessons from Dominick Hasek. I'm not sure he passed the puck to a Red Wing once all game. I was having flashbacks to all of the times I wanted to install a dog fence around the crease and give Dom a zap collar. I even own one now, so it would've been easy. (A dog fence, not a Hasek.)
Hossa also had a heck of a game. He knows that his psyche is on the line in this series, and it doesn't look like he wants to live with the emotional trauma that would result from choosing the wrong team to sign with. He very quietly turned in two assists.
And, just because he's so good that he often goes unnoticed/unmentioned...how about Nick Lidstrom? Two games, two goals allowed against the super-hyped Pittsburgh offense? Z gets a lot of the credit for his work on Crosby, but my God, it seems like Lidstrom's always there. Just when you think disaster is imminent, the Swede negates the play and then, presumably, returns to his hammock and Corona. Seriously. He's that relaxed. He should be in one of their commercials.
So now the series shifts to Pittsburgh, where hopefully Jean-Claude Van Damme doesn't need to make an appearance. With the Pens having the last change, it'll be harder to get the match-ups the Wings would like against the Crosby and Malkin lines. I wouldn't be surprised to see a little line-shuffling going on, but then again, Babs might not want to mess with a winning formula. I've got my fingers crossed that Datsyuk will be back, and I'm trying to work out a deal with the Hockey Gods, but I'm not all that optimistic. Filppula's done a decent job on Malkin in his absence, but, let's face it, you don't just replace Dangle Dangle.
The scary thing is that the Wings haven't played a real "Red Wings hockey" game yet this series. And yet they find themselves up 2-0 against the Penguins. If the Wings can bring their A-game on the road Tuesday/Thursday and get #13 back in the lineup, this might be a shorter series than everyone's predicting. One thing is for sure: they'll need to play better than they have been if they plan on keeping their home ice advantage. And you know that every man in a Penguins sweater is praying to the Hockey Gods that the Wings keep playing the way they have been. These two games could've gone either way, and it's mostly through good luck, some big saves, and the fourth line working its collective ass off that the Wings find themselves in this position.
The bottom line is: Sidney Crosby, Evgeni Malkin, and I will all be dreaming about Henrik Zetterberg tonight, but for decidedly different reasons...
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