December 10, 2013, by Homme De Sept-Iles
Monarchical Musings and In-Game Scribbles
My English is as good as yours, I just write these in a stream-of-consciousness mode that I insist excuses me from small things like rules of grammar or general etiquette. Let’s call it conversational English, hopped up on beans. You know what kind of beans (no, Carl Mellesmoen, not the magic ones).
Montreal Canadiens (19-9-3) host Los Angeles Kings (19-7-4)
Tuesday, December 10th, 2013
Game Thirty-Two (score posted following scribbles)
Missed it? Musings capture the game in writing. This untoward transcript is typed during the game, edited then posted about forty minutes afterward. Based on the RDS French telecast of the Montreal Canadiens game, Musings take about 24 minutes to read. More detailed than an article, fresher than a looping highlight and good with a morning coffee. Or late-night suds. A unique way to re-experience the game.
Click here to expand post. It looks prettier.
The Canadiens and Kings both average 2.00 goals against to rank second and third, respectively.
Newcomer Martin Jones is in net for the monarchs and Price for Nos Royales.
Early pressure. Delayed call. Emelin’s stick breaks on a shot from the right point and tripping is the infraction; the still-overrated Drew Doughty. Is he still a turnover machine? I’m sure the answer is yes and I’ll confirm later. Meantime it’s a faceoff to Jones’ left which Montreal wins. Subban shoots. Deflects into the corner to Jones’ left.
Markov advances to stop a puck on the hash. Misses but it slows enough for a speedy Desharnais to tap it. Lines change and Desharnais has it again following a miss by Subban.
Winter woe is sharp but it means that the Canadiens are playing hockey.
Markov, a shot from the right point. Rebound lulls in the crease. Slapped at. Missed. Sent to the point. What pressure. Blam, blam, slot! Seven shots in that sequence.
Seven seconds’ in the penalty. Price has to wave a glove high and the puck stays buried in Montréal ice as the penalty elapses.
The Kings enter the game 5-0 on the road, the Habs 6-0 at home. Montreal is 9-01 in their last ten, the lone blotch a strained shootout loss to Washington Capitals.
Interception. Carcillo pushes it ahead for himself, they called it head-manning in the day, eh? He falls into the back boards but the Kings silver swirl results in a Price save, snow spraying up and the Kings closer to the cage than any of the 21,000 fans would want.
Montreal leads on shots 7-2. Faceoff to Price’s let. Price turtles to control the quick squeaker.
Again, Desharnais bends to the task. Wins it. Lost on the under-circle and swept around and shot back from the hash. Martinez’ shot from the right point is blocked.
Justin Williams skates it down and then pokes it into the zone with an extended arm.
Montréal is adroit and they bring it back. Gallagher. Into the corner. Now he’s to the slot. Point shot. Save. Jones has it. Short montage and we see Jones’ work against the Isles recently, his first shutout, all in the royal purple of days gone past. The original Kings uniform. Their third-jersey look. Is that really how it looked?
Rene Bourque is still out of the lineup shares Marc Denis, victim of a shoulder injury.
Fourteen and ten.
King coach Darryl Sutter continues to entertain with his blend of expressions raging from confusion, frustration, internal hockey pain and dismay.
Mitchell. Shot. Rebound. Nolan buries it. Is he related to Ted? Jordan is his name. He’s from St. Catharine’s. So, good bet.
LA 1, Montreal 0
Pierre says it’s just the fourteenth first-period goal given up by Montreal this year.
Long King puck. Whistle. And a penalty to go with it. Bournival. Hooking. Therrien nods to himself and says ok. Replay shows Bournival hook Martinez behind the King net.
Faceoff to Price’s left.
Did I hear that right? Kings are one of thirty-six in their last several power-plays? Sure looks it. They appear frazzled, pulsing away from the puck on the deep left hash. They lose it and then Plekanec leads a one-man rush down the right before being funnelled.
Kings set up. Long shot off the back boards, a lonely thwack.
Interception to Price’s left, Markov and he clears it.
The penalty ends with little else.
Denis compliments Price’s improvement in controlling rebounds and we watch the spry BC native splay, banded, and lose sight of the puck. Kings aren’t close enough to damage.
Long King puck is called prior to being touched, the new hybrid icing rule and we’ll redo to Jones’ right. He’s started just two games this seasons, Quick and Scrivens nearly even in their splits (sixteen and fifteen appearances with the former logging 16 starts to Scrivens’ 12)
Doughty isn’t as flamboyant as Subban but Houde states the defenceman has a complete game. Oh yeah? Pierre is a gentleman. And I’m not. Doughty is another bally-hooed local frat boy. No, you can’t go out with him. Hmm. So what’s the strategy, then? Perceptual training. From birth.
The Canadiens push against the white knights of the ice and Plekanec emerge in the slot. Jones extends a calm pad. More Montréal pressure, Plekanec coiling the crowd. And another mellow Martin save. Martin Jones. He’s from North Van, BC. And is listed as such; “North Vancouver, BC”. I didn’t know they were that honoured.
Faceoff to Jones’ left. Stoll loses the draw but gets on it at the boards. Tries the backhand and misses.
Brown finds it under the end line and clears, anyway.
Montreal brakes and is angled away from entering.
Now they dump it in, three forwards missing it all and some lack of jump is evident.
Doughty’s 34 giveaways rank him eighth-worst in the league. Still a turnover machine
Finally Montréal sets up with a minute left in the power-play. They retain as it expires and work the star-shaped pattern. Final shot is engulfed by Jones.
The Kings stand-still remains and it will cost them as the game moves along. Here a late-changing shift sees the visitors squared and waiting. A Montréal pass fails and the Kings leave the ice, lucky. Some more Kings hop on, of course.
Three and twenty-seven
Plekanec gets away from the group and is tripped. He’s flat on his stomach, anyhow. Interference is the call.
Regehr got in the forward’s way on a puck chase outside the Montreal blue.
Draw to Jones’ left. Lost. Cleared, retrieved. Markov. Short pass to Desharnais. This time, the eyes close, says Houde. Officials’ eyes.
Pacioretty is tripped.
Also a non-call. Who are these guys? Looks like five-year old officiating. Both.
The Kings challenge but Doughty lacks the quickness or perhaps the moxie to get back in the right spot and Galchenyuk comes in the vacated back door. Jones bends forward and covers up.
The Kings keep Montreal from the lanes they want and another penalty ends. How tight a finish will this one be?
Desharnais on the draw. Montreal completes the possession and Moen appears in the muzzle and point-blank dramatic. The gap stays white. Jones got a shoulder on it. Moen shakes his head on the bench. Faceoff to Prices left.
Around the boards.
Good work from Kyle Clifford but the puck is gone in an instant. And whistled again.
Sixteen point one. Faceoff to Price’s right.
Lost. Richards takes. Turns. Pass. Shot. Goal. Very nice play.
Hockey play, some might say. Short draw and release, Kopitar.
LA 2, Montreal 0
Denis says this one will hurt, late as it is.
I shrug. Sure. Let’s see what comebacks are about, then.
Montréal led with a monster 17 shots to 12.
LA 2, Montreal 0
I skip it.
LA 2, Montreal 0
One goal. Silence.
LA 4, Montreal 0
Sutter’s demeanour becomes annoying. He’s twisted his clam lips and stands, arms folded with apprehension.
Galchenyuk is called for hooking. The stick hung under Brown’s arm for a too-long and probably deliberate moment and the Kings go to power.
Doughty retrieves. Pause at the circles, pauses again and then carries, curls right and shoots. It’s up out of play.
Kopitar is shown. His 503 points ranks him second amongst 2005 draftees. Your buddy Crob is first.
Kings score. Draw won to Budaj’s left, pass across to Muzzin and Budaj is beaten, falling to his right like a snowman.
LA 5, Montreal 0
A Therrien-coached Montreal team hasn’t climbed out of such a deficit. Yet. And at 5-0 down, it may be the first such grave.
Eleven and twelve.
My brain is itchy.
One goal at a time. One shift at a time. A dim Alex Connell memory drifts through my inner parliament. An old Ottawa goalie, perhaps. Dressed and in the stands. The days when a guy could appear from outside the bench areas. Just stroll down the steps. I’m exaggerating, of course. In the day, teams had but one goalie. If a team’s goalie was injured, with the permission of the opposing coach, that team could petition someone from the stands (sometimes guys with cred were up there). And it happened more than once.
Moen is called. Nolan, too.
Faceoff to Budaj’s left. Yeah, he’s in now.
It’s cold out, yo.
My disturbing lack of faith. Or concentration. Or both.
I watch the Kings get too lax. Do I blame them?
Doughty under his end-line.
At least my typing is fine. Accurate. Quick. Means less time wasted on the proofing. More time for the training.
Nine minutes in the second. Lotta hockey. Lotta hockey.
And then Gallagher zoops on it. Past a man and the puck is lost, Kopitar helping Willie Mitchell with an under-the-hash backhand dig and sail.
Normalcy. What is it. Oh, I know. It will warm stones again. Won’t it.
John Stevens is a forgotten assistant behind the King bench. Dolt.
Plekanec brakes and turns nearly fully, a spin-shot low and untouched.
Kept in. Galchenyuk emerges from the right side, heading west. Loses the puck. And the puck is out of play yet again.
The effort is there but the Kings aren’t frolicking. It’s worrisome business as usual. The team understands its coach. They’re calm and lead on shots 10-1. They remind me of the Blues in demeanour. They look. They don’t rush. And they still have a lot of size.
Not as much as the 2012 run. But enough.
Muzzin from Kopitar. Wide. King, stout but agile, finds a puck, keeps and carries it out of Montreal ice to protect and then drops to defenceman.
Houde finds energy to chuckle. But he maintains a mild sympathetic note.
Faceoff to Budaj’ right.
Left point. Pass to Williams. They flow to the low slot. Budaj falls. Up again.
They can’t mount a rush. Subban falls under his end line and Markov scoops in a Montreal forward nearby.
Now the Kings pass it hither and fro. To and titter. Or is that a booing moan?
Kings extend the possession into fifteen and then twenty seconds.
I consider hot dogs and hot New York summer nights.
Lines have changed but the Habs are penned again.
Puck is whistled.
Two Kings smile on the bench. Your scribe’s face is a straight line.
The monsters of the past are forgotten. Names and faces that brought incompetence, doom or hatred are long gone. Why bother remembering them? While here they tormented us with turnovers, hubris, bad trades or coal-skin diatribes. Some are dead. Others fail elsewhere. Here, despite the five-nothing deficit, the sun hangs rising over a glowing morning bay. Ici c’est encore un foi, le Sept-Iles des bon jours. Et ca veut dire, les Canadiens sont la.
I can take it. There’s gum in the bubble pack again.
Gallagher gazes clockward, hope brimming like caffeine. His veins are quick.
Two and thirteen.
Deep right. Pacioretty emerges and turns it over. Corrects by following at just the right spacing.
Long Montreal puck. Called.
No goal for Gallagher in his last six games. Houde changes the topic. Thursday night game. Chargers and Broncos. Remember Jim McMahon?
Of course you do. And you remember the visor he wore both with San Diego and, later, Philadelphia. Blittered knees.
Yeah, blittered. Why not. I like it.
Kings sore again. Stoll.
LA 6, Montreal 0
My face lemons a bit.
Stoll twisted and passed to two Kings in the crease. Brown pretended and Stoll finished.
It’s called playing for pride. Or in my basement, playing for Daal Mooth. I have none. Daal Mooth. It’s time for more. I am a spicy lad, after all.
Today’s lad tends to be older, I find.
Big spaces. Long passes. And still, the turnovers.
Cold snow and hot coffee. And bitter radio in the AM morning. Tomorrow’s lads are today’s toddlers. And they’re gonna get ripped.
They review the goals. Kings led on shots 13-3.
I feel like eating a live pepper.
LA 6, Montreal 0
Blow it out your system, chalk it up to a hockey car crash and move along.
Alain corrects his mistake. Four goals in the second. Not five, as he said at the wrap. Carbonneau smiles.
Alain can’t hide his disdain as the cactus chats. Not from me, anyway. Some analysis.
It’s hard to believe I once took Benoit Brunet seriously. It was back in the nineties. When he played hockey for Le Club de Hockey Canadien. And he was good. Third-line dude that brought it every shift.
I decide to hold that image. I last six seconds. He’s hard to ignore now.
Carbo says the team started well, taking the body against he heavier Kings but it didn’t last.
That late second goal. Sure. And the opening goal. Inside the first minute.
LA 6, Montreal 0
That power-play goal was the Kings first in nine games. And they’ve logged 122 minutes without a goal against.
Faceoff is won by Montreal. I see empty seats. Concessions?
Markov behind his net. To Subban at the right hash. Long puck skitters into King sticks.
Montreal challenges the body adn skates as if the game is in reach.
The Kings are their casual selves, gathering pucks and shielding it with slow turns and wise outlet passes.
Faceoff. Kings win it. Right point. Across. Shot wide, a whistler.
I consider whistling for the rest of the period. Can’t wet the wick.
One loss can lead to another. Can lead to another. Winning never feels habitual but is just as habit-forming as losing. Oh, losing. One game. One period. One shift. Coaches unravel in their cobweb morning thoughts. Or late-night cotton musings.
Hey, coaches can muse too.
Voynov is harangued and nearly gives it up under his end line, coasting out.
We’ll see some new trios.
White drives with it through the blue. Let’s see some of that hubris. Guys like Michael Ryder have that flint. I wait and watch. I know Gallagher has it.
The Kings’ curls grow casual. Faceoff deep right. Briere lose the draw to the much larger Kopitar. Not that this was the overriding factor. Kopitar is six-three, 224. Briere is, ah, a lot smaller.
Four and a half gone.
Diaz to Plekanec. Plekanec bumps his man even as the puck leaves. Another bump on a lost puck.
As Bob McCown wrote in Hockey’s 100 Greatest Arguments, if one removed the scoring plays and hid the on-screen clock, one could never tell who won or lost a game. The same applies tonight. It could be any shift of any LA-Montreal matchup. It’s a bit slow. And that’s it.
Faceoff outside the King zone. Blasted in. A rush on the boards but the puck is alight and on its way.
Now White decks Muzzin. Legal. Muzzin wants nothing of it. They bump by the net on a shoot-in and it’s whistled. White is a head-shaking face of frustration.
He’s got a big face, ok.
The Kings last won in Montreal in 1999. Some King fans are shown. Kings fans, sure. Three separate shots.
Houde reminds us that it isn’t over.
I wonder how many TV sets have gone off.
There are many visible seats. Why are they visible? Um.
Another faceoff. Plekanec is asked to leave the dot, a rare request in recent weeks. He’s upped his dot game. He’d struggled earlier in the season. Constant Infraction. That could be a nickname.
Whistle. Hooking. Kyle Clifford. Third-line winger. King.
Montréal wins the draw. They’re zero of three. Under the end line. Hash. Subban, the right point. Across for Markov. Gallagher on the left hash. More passes as Gallagher settles in the slot. Jones makes a stop and Gallagher draws three Kings in his zeal. They separate quickly.
In the net camera gets a full face of pants. Hockey pants. Jones’.
Is Scrivens hurt?
Montréal sets up. This would be a good time for Briere to get going. No pressure. And perhaps some good openings.
Markov loses a puck at the point but the team handles the rush.
One last segment. Diaz’ pass is into Richards’ stick a dangerous exit angle. But Diaz cuts it and steers Richards away from a danger lane.
Nine and nineteen.
Guess ya don’t need to scroll down to see who won.
Six goals in nine minutes. I’m sure it’s been done. It could be done, sure. Is it likely? Ah ha! The league average per game is around five goals per game for both teams.
It’s dropping, globalement, as Pierre might say.
The play gains flow but Houde is right. No stoppage but no threats.
Long king puck slows at the circle where Emelin cradles it
One pass. A second. Desharnais accelerates, looking to the slot from the left side. Can’t see anyone. It winds its way to the point for a long low shot. Wide of it all.
I wonder how much his constant typing and talking in my head improves or worsens my thinking-writing abilities. I wonder.
Montreal notches up. Five and a half. Kings wake up in response. Nobody wants to sneeze pepper. Budaj clams one down. And he holds it for the draw.
Oh. It’s Quick who’s out. My ’net is down. Has been for most of this game. Router. Something. At least I had time to determine the turnover machine’s consistency.
Denis is asked why the Kings’ goaltending ha been so good minus Quick. Bah. The Kings.
I like the Kings though. Always have. The purple version. And the faux Raidah.
They’ve gone through so many on-ice incarnations, too.
I need more grub in my life. Or more grub choices, really. I’ve gotten anti-gastri.
I need more goals in my life. Canadiens goals.
Ordinary days. Should I look forward to them?
Deadlines are dread lines. Aren’t they?
Aren’t they? Death is arbitrary in the cold winter jungle. There is such a thing.
Kings keep working, earning Houde’s praise.
Denis says it isn’t just effort, it’s a system. It’s machine-like, adds Houde. It’s relentless.
Machinale. I like that word.
Nolan. White. Bouillon. Diaz. White. Bumped on entry. They retrieve.
Long pass. Bournival can’t slick near the King blue on the boards. Good chance gone.
Just over a minute.
Hope is a grail. It’s silver. And the Kings are only two years’ removed from their recent first one.
They’re still good. Balanced. Skilled. And systematic. Yes, Pierre is right.
Weak shot. Gallagher falls on the backhand attempt. Fails.
Period ends on the other end.
Someone hugs Budaj.
Full lesson, says Houde.
Jones. Hmph. Another shutout.
Sutter is even more annoying. He’s carrying some gloves and looking perplexed. It’s a demeanour. And tonight, it isn’t amusing. Yeah, I know he’s a good dude.
LA Kings 6
Montreal Canadiens 0
HDS Stars: Martin Jones, Anze Kopitar, Jake Muzzin
RDS Stars: Missed em.
I’m petty. So …
Montreal Canadiens 24
Los Angeles Kings 1
I feel better, though.
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