Halcyon. And the hitting increases. Crowd is blister and banana. Apes in heat. Whistle reduces the rabble.
Milbury pisses me off with his talk of hard-nosed Team Canada forwards as we see his picks and CBC gets the mute for the first time tonight. Milbury’s team is missing Toews. Glenn Healey’s picks look like a faster team. Are we going to get embarrassed on the world stage again? Get ready, we look as if we’ll lack speed, skill and class. What’s left that can win it? Goaltending, defence, intimidation and home ice advantage. Might be enough. Is that how you want to win?
I think I’m about 20-22 commercials away from cheering against Team Canada. As usual. Will they lay off already? And then the homer announcing is going to start. Can they at least try to be balanced? Just try?
The apologists for fighting are legion in hockey. Nothing of the sort in MLB, NBA and NFL ranks. Somehow the culture of lugs hasn’t survived as well in those leagues. Plenty of morons in those ranks as well but the reffing and the culture of violence is far worse in hockey. Yeah, I’m throwing the reffing in there. Wanna go?
Highlights. Sean Avery still has an NHL job. Well, nobody should complain about anyone else, then. Free passes for all. It’s interesting that Ovechkin’s celebrations get more anger than Avery’s antics. Measure it yourself. Google and count the hits. Or bring up the players in living rooms or pubs. See for yourself.
Gill looks like a bubble gum boy (a tall one) as he stands and smiles, disappointed with the penalty call against him. He keeps looking up at the scoreboard screen for the replay. He needs to decide how he really feels. Montreal will go to the penalty-kill without one of their first-pairing defenders. Gill has been getting a lot of PK responsibility.
Buffalo’s site, like many NHL sites for American-based teams, has a “Buy This” entry page and you can only enter the site by clicking the ad. I feel shrugged-shoulder about it. Selling tickets makes sense. But aesthetics count. And so does soft selling. It’s complex, eh.
On Montreal ice. Below the hash. Puck is moving without challenge. Montreal is watching again. Tired? It’s Moen and Plekanec. And now Atlanta will score. Pass goes to the slot. Shot. It should have gone in. Price got over there. Like a Flintstone rolling. Whatever works. What a save. Thrashers feel robbed. Shoulders slump. Commercial break will extend that feeling for the blue boys.
Price’s positioning is prescient panther. Great saves as the puck moves on long lines, always the hypotenuse when Crosby passes. His pucks stretch vectors, make Tron victims of defenders.
Bergeron goes down the right side to start the team. He moves in on pad and crease. Whack. Goes out. Andrei. Raises his hands like Superman. Smiles like a vacationer.
The Flyers are a poor team and we are playing worse than they are. Philadelphia can’t pass, can’t skate and can’t commit to this game. And the Canadiens, far more skilled and professional in their attitude are about even in time of possession. Really shameful.
Centennial Game. Brunet says the Canadiens have shown a lot of character tonight. I agree. It’s not easy to play well and play a mortal’s game on a night when mortals are perceptually immortalized. But if one sees enough of these celebrations, one becomes impervious to them, I’ll venture.
Nice job helping your backup goaltender. Seven, eight, maybe ten, maybe twelve guys are picking and choosing their times to exert and when to relax. It’s an art. Like the cab driver who catches all the reds and pretends he’s driving the Queen’s Cadillac stretch and slows for every speed bump. Wow. What an important vehicle you must own, sir. Are you protecting your expensive shock absorbers?
Jacques is in an all-brown costume. Velour-looking jacket and near turtleneck without the turtle part. Tip-top friendly. Demers reminds us that the last time the Canadiens played Toronto, Kaberle had four points.
Highlights. Boston scores. And again. Krejci and Chara. A Czech cab-driver assured me last winter that David Krejci will be better than Jaromir Jagr when their careers are done. He was quite confident. He was about 49 years old.
Crosby gets down the left side. Creates. Stops. Turns and looks from the hash. Backhand pass to Gonchar in the mid-slot. Beautiful play. Very Oiler. Vintage Grape Gretzky. Gonchar’s finish is almost as skilled. Puck goes from skate to forehand to backhand to the five-hole as Prices crosses. Experts’ goal. Have another glass.
RJ Umberger makes his way right to Price on the next incursion and Brunet chuckles as Price makes the save. It continues to amuse people that Umberger became Bobby Orr for one series in his life (Philadelphia-Montreal in 07-08). I’m not amused. Accidental greatness isn’t something I approve of.
Canadiens fans start a cheer but a shot bounces towards and eludes Price. Odd goal. Just under his left arm and he turns like a catcher reaching for dropped ice cream as the puck bounds over the line and twirls in the Montreal net.
Caps pull their goalie. They maintain control all the while. Just under a minute. Shot by Ovechkin. Price loses his stick. Shot after shot. Price. Post. Price. Skelter scramble in front of the net. Three white jerseys fall all around the puck. Four.
Pacioretty is thrown to the ice like a mannequin by Carolina defenceman Andrew Alberts. Slides into the corner unharmed. Pacioretty has to hit the weights and steaks (and that doesn’t mean I’m condoning the lethal burger and hubris combo).
We get some convention centre footage. Interesting to see a shot of Bob Gainey walking away from Brian Burke with an unimpressed look on his face. Burke sauntered over to an area where Gainey was conversing with Flames GM Darryl Sutter (who is a native of Viking, Alberta for those of you who are intrigued with small Alberta towns).
Price’s mask is in commemoration of Remembrance Day. Nice sentiment. But perhaps it misses the bigger picture; the glorification of war is not the best cause to support. Not unless the events of such a day are more graphic in their condemnation of war and the senseless loss of life it produces. It’s a longer discussion and if people don’t like hearing it during a sports communiqué, perhaps we should consider removing mask and anthem gestures from the sporting arena.
Captain Canada scores.
Craig is working against Gorges down in the corner to the right of Price. Lasts an almost Adams Division length of time. And then it does. Mucking on the boards. We just don’t see much of it anymore. It’s a game of calisthenics, sprints, skirmishes and cardio. It’s as close to classic international hockey as we’ve ever seen it. Now imagine if they went to a larger ice surface to compensate for the growing size of the players.
Silence these beasts.
There are too many missing players. When the puck bounces behind the net, that special bank pass a defenceman will make to his shift partner behind the net, I can’t help but think of Francis Bouillon. And then I inadvertently wonder if Dandenault is going to be on wing tonight or on the blue line.
Cammalleri takes a shot that is difficult for Toskala who makes an alert save and a quick pounce forward for the freeze. I can’t help but like Toskala. I don’t know why. Something about being underappreciated and beleaguered, I’d guess. He does well whenever I see him.
Kane zips and clips. Hither and tag. Zap. Zig. Quick, quick. Impressive. Right into the slot. Undressed someone so badly that I saw Gaston Gingras (Spacek fell like a sand-weeble) for a moment. No shot. And mildly shocking, no penalty. Those kinds of moves usually result in a take-down.
Perry Pearn, first-season Montreal assistant coach, is being talked to by Jacques Martin. Pearn chews his gum in the same manner as Pat Quinn. Same side-cow but quick gum-chewing expression. Almost as if he dares you to suggest he’s chewing gum. And then he’d deny it while chewing even faster.
Kostitsyn curls over the high slot and everyone is out of position. A woman screeches twice. She sounds too young to be his mother. Nothing else results. Canadiens continue to dominate following this sequence, however. Atlanta is showing the disinterest of a perennial 7-9 team.