The other Nick Backstrom. (Photo credit: Doug Benc)
Healing Breath: So alright, everybody feel safe now? Good. Now, everyone, breathe in….and blow it out. Good; that’s good. And let’s just stick with “blow” for a moment, shall we?
Friday was basically the Mir of hockey games (look it up, noobs.) We all watched, incredulous, as our Hero Caps slung their way to 3-0, only to slump to end 4-3, mostly during the last third, as the flaming wreckage fell back to Earth. Honestly, that last stanza? Blowing chunks all over that very pretty, expensive Verizon sheet. In a phrase: everybody was Byfuglian-en.
OK, cleansing breath now; suck it in….and, blow it out. Blow hard…good.
The Pregamer: As a cure for our Capitals PTSD (Post Traumatic Suckage Disorder) we slopped out to Kettler today to see just wha’ what was up with the what wha’. We learned several things.
#1: Nicky Back. Our Angel has been cleared for practice with the team without any restrictions, meaning Nicky’s cleared for contact. Meaning: cleared for contact? Takeoff! PuckBuddy Craig describes 19 as looking like he was happy to be back on the ice. Nicky: we’re happier.
#2: Happy Days. The Caps coaching staff, and the players themselves, appeared to be having a good ‘ol time of it out on Kettler’s ice Saturday. Maybe not like fluffy puppies, but energetic and engaged. Curious, then, that we can’t recall seeing Sasha or Ovi out there. That’s not gospel, nor even gnostic. It’s just what we remember, so don’t quote us. (Or if you do, describe us as “hockey gods.”)
#3 Who Dat? Or who dere? Geez o Pete’s people, doesn’t anyone come out to Kettler for the ice work these days? We guess not. Is that a sign of flagging enthusiasm? We assume so. Does anyone use the adjective “flagging” except when modifying “enthusiasm”? Perhaps not, except for quacks flogging “virility” cures to doughy middle-aged men. Ha! We made with the funnies there, ’cause it’s personal and embarrassing! Anyway, let’s get out there for the weekend ice-work, eh fans?
So this Pregame is really more of a pause and reflection on where we’re at. Time to take stock. Survey the horizon, evaluate the threats.
Like…anyone see the season finale to The Walking Dead? OH LAWDY, amiright? Over-run by a horde of slimey walkers, threatened with the knowledge that anyone one could become one of them at a moment’s notice? The real possibility that the team that got this far was now just unraveling?
So haha, yes, like anything zombie it’s all just a blank canvas waiting for you to put your analogy on top. Analogy or metaphor. You know…the one thing that’s like another thing, and the other thing that’s not like but more of a
Whatever. Here’s our analogy. The Wild aren’t so much playing to get in the playoffs as they’re out just to bite every one else and land them in the land of walking corpses. Look at them and Buffalo Saturday.
Our job on Sunday is simple: don’t get bit. Don’t let slobs like Clayton Stoner (heh heh) or Cal Clutterbuck or Setoguchi or Heatley or any of the other shambling corpses of Minnesota get their teeth anywhere near us.
That means: no stupid fights, no dribbling plays, no giving up until we’re finished with the entire lot of their decaying, shambling squad.
Wild Time: So Minnesota kicks the Sabres in the bullbits Saturday night…do we think they’ll be game for Sunday? Really…the Wild are basically the Ford Pinto of hockey these days. Less a hockey team and more just hockey loaf. Sort of a mess of everything in just the wrong amounts. And what do you expect from the state that gave us Jesse Ventura and the Utne Reader? It’s basically North Dakota without the charm, or Wisconsin without the cheese curds but more flannel.
Our prediction? Craig is giggling over all the tweets about Dick Cheney’s heart transplant (um, really) and I’m just ready for ice cream. PuckBuddys in da hizzie tomorrow with special straight-guy Duluthian correspondent Big Dave, so come and chirp at us.
Let’s seriously win this one Caps. Eh? Ya, we can do dat, fur shure, you betcha.
Extra Super Happy Bonus Picture SmileTime!
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