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Someday, many years from now, Atlanta Thrashers' fans will gather around the campfire and tell their children and their children's children where they were the day the world was introduced to Ondrej Pavelec. Perhaps, in celebration of the event, one of those oldsters will even pick up a guitar and regale those assembled with a carefully composed series of songs filled with allegorical lyrics and oblique references to brickwork barriers as metaphors for personal demons. And someday, many years from now, those children will ask themselves "Why the hell is Gran Pappy's singin' 'bout that thar team what moved to Kanerda ten years ago?" before retreating to the safety of their double wides. But those twelve remaining fans gathered round the troubadour? They will remember. They'll always have Ondrej.
Fifty-one shots. One goal. Jesus Jumped-up Christ on a sidecar.
The Highs:
Daddy's flown across the ocean: Ordinarily I am loathe to heap any kind of praise on an opposing player unless I'm complementing said player on the orderly fashion in which he bleeds. But this was such a clear case of one guy stealing two points for his team, that I have no choice but to take the kick in the nuts, offer my congratulations through gritted teeth and move on. We don't play Atlanta again until January 12th. Let us all pray that by then, Daddy Pavelec remembers he's a twenty year-old rookie.
It was dark all around. There was frost in the ground. When the tigers broke free: Messrs Kelly, Ruutu and Neil, please step forward. For your impressive and sustained 4th line efforts in sowing chaos and confusion any time you were on the ice, I offer this selection of delicious cheeses and raw meat (that's for you, Neiler) as thanks. I'd also like to reassure everyone that the fact that you were, collectively, the best line on the ice for the third consecutive game does not, in any way, indicate a deeper problem with this team. Nope. None at all.
I am just a new boy. A stranger in this town: I know I've been rather hard on you, Peter. And while I still think the rush to anoint you as "The Great Dane" is both unseemly and very, very lame (A dog? Really? C'mon people, we can do better), I like to think that I'm man enough to admit that I may have been a tad premature in my dismissal of your game. In fact, you may just be growing on me a tad. Just a little, mind you, so don't get too comfortable. The very moment you stop digging pucks out of the corners or making smart plays in front of the net is the moment I renew my cries to put you on the next boat to Denlandia. Just so we're clear.
The Lows:
Hey you! Out there in the cold, getting lonely, getting old, can you hear me?: Hey, Pascal. Let me start by saying how much we all love you, appreciate your skills and wish you nothing but sunshine and lollipops as any hope we have of making the playoffs rests almost entirely upon the continued happiness of both you and your ankles. And I fully realize how hard it must be to remain sharp during a game in which all of the action is happening two hundred feet away. But sometimes in a game such as this, where the Senators are so obviously the Big Dog and yet find themselves inexplicably trailing by one late, we really, really need that save. Kthxbai.
I need you, Babe, to put through the shredder in front of my friends: I had thought I was fully prepared to deal with the nights where Kovy would elect, for whatever reason, not to show up. I had thought that I had managed to insulate myself against those times when rage and irrationality would take over and I'd spend an hour looking for a something stuffed to tear apart with my teeth. After having spent three hours yesterday screaming MOVE YOUR FUCKING FEET YOU USELESS FUCKING PUS BAG!!, something tells me that I may have a teensy bit further to go in my search for zen-like equanimity.
Waiting for the worms to come: While we were thankfully spared the egregious displays of Justin St. Pierre's ego fuelled exercises in utter incompetence, so evident in the Florida swing, I would ask this of all other league officials: Please find common ground and agree amongst yourselves on what exactly constitutes a hook, AND FUCKING STICK TO IT! Oh, and while you're at it, perhaps you could also learn to count to six.
The Creamy Middle:
Meh. Outplayed them...outhit them...outshot them (boy, howdy)...still lost...shit happens. I console myself with the thought that I'd much rather shit happen in October then say, March. In the meantime, The Show Must Go On.
Pithy Observation of Questionable Importance:
In what may be the clearest indication yet of how much he meant to me during his time as a Senator, I had totally forgotten SchubieDoo was a Thrasher until I saw him on the bench during the anthems. Curious as to how he'd perform in his first game back, I tried to pay particular attention whenever he was on the ice. Here's the sole entry in my notebook from early in the first period: "Schube -- shot from point. Low. Wide right." Naturally.
Up Next:
For the third time in a month, we get it on with Stamkos, Lecavalier and Skippy The Fuckstick (more on him later this week) this time, back at home. Who knew that Tampa might one day supplant the Sabres as my Most Despised Opponent Not Playing In Toronto? Because, honestly? These guys are really starting to piss me off. (Thursday night, 7:30pm, TSN2).
Behind Enemy Lines:
Once again, go say hello to Raw Charge. Ordinarily, I try not to go back to the same well for any given team, no matter the quality of the entry (all the better to spread the interweb love, says I). But in this case this is the only Lightning blog I could find that is a) entertaining, b) well written, c) has been updated at least once since April, d) isn't tied to the MSM, AND e) doesn't flood my screen with enough pop up ads to crash Firefox every single fucking time I try to open it. Hamilton, you may weep collectively.
Go Sens.
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Two lines stick out to me from that post:
3) Ottawa Senators general manager Bryan Murray was quoted as saying this about Kovalev: “When I watched our team play the last couple of years against Montreal, every time he came on the ice, I was scared to death he was going to be the difference in the game and some nights he certainly was.” Trust me Sens fans, get ready for a lot of nights where you’ll be scared to death every time he comes onto the ice.
and;
5) Kovalev has a reputation for taking shifts off once in a while. This is completely untrue and he deserves more credit than that. The truth is he’s been known to completely disappear for weeks at a time.
I don't like the Sens at all, but I like this blog because it's witty and funny. That being said, I would never wish Alexei Kovalev on any enemy. No one deserves to have put up with him for more than three weeks at a time (wait until you get into your fourth or fifth year with him, with half the city saying he's the greatest player we've ever had and hold protests to keep him here).