By Doug Johnson
Doug Johnson is back to amuse and torment. You know him as one-half of the PuckBuddys. The first one to get them to 3K Twitter follows probably wins a car or something.
The Morning Skate: Gentle readers, before we [CENSORED] all over our Bruins friends, let us pause a moment, as you scramble in blind panic preparing for snow that will never, ever come again, to consider the hazards of making predictions. Especially about the Caps.
For example, if I predict no snow Wednesday, it’s gonna get all crazy 20″ up in here. Conversely, I stone cold guarantee that if I dash to the store today to buy a terror shovel, we will be mopping our brows and sipping Mint Juleps on our verandas by Friday. The point is: predictions can go so wrong. Britain’s Lord Kelvin (he of Downton Abbey, we guess?) said heavier-than-air machines could never fly. Harry Warner said no-one would pay for talkies. The Skipper predicted a three-hour tour. Boom.
Now before you get all Nate Silver-y on my behind with a lecture about the differences between prediction and guessing, let me remind all you smarty-pants that even that guy can be as wrong as a clam-juice birthday cake (who did he pick for the Superbowl? Hmmm?). Which brings us to Tuesday’s meeting of the Capitals and Bruins.
Heading into the vortex of despair we call Winnipeg last weekend, following as it did our emasculation by the Flyers, which itself followed our manhandling of Sasha and the Canes, and a bunch of other smart reasons articulated here, we did not have big expectations. Truly, given our flukey history with the Jets, we almost napped through the game. That would have been a shame, as it became a great display of what this team can do when they pull it together.
The real question here, the one I’ve been dithering around, wasting precious precious minutes of your life that you will never get back, is which Capitals team will show Tuesday? The bumblers that allow three points in the 1st period and just sorta of sleep-skate thereafter, or the gladiators that snap together like a Spartan phalanx and crush the will of their opponents? Flinging fate to the winds, I predict the latter, because that’s our roll.
OK, back to [NOPE, STILL CENSORED] on Boston.
The Puck Drop: Research suggests that the B’s are, in fact, chemically, the single worst concentration of terrible humankindism going back to, oh what, the cast of The Love Boat we reckon’. The bean team has been tearing it up against just about everyone in the Southeast recently, turning away teams that have done so to us, while holding their own in the Northeast. Even Sunday’s just-loss to the Habs demonstrated a squad willing, and mostly able, to take it to their foes on the ice.
And so for this, our first meeting this shortened season with the big bad Back Bay baboons, let’s conjure the spirits of our last meet-ups – specifically such sweet, juicy memories as:
Who’s Hot And What’s Not:
Post Game: Spring is in the air, and we’re feeling a bit frisky. But so well-behaved! C’mon, an entire Bruins post and not one shirtless pic of Tyler. Or Dougie Hamilton? (You seen that guy?) So we’re casting our bread upon the water in this Easter season and putting together a PuckBuddys party in several weeks, likely hosted at Nellie’s, duh. We haven’t even run this past our RMNB overlords yet, but we tote want a huge turnout, so we’ll see what we see. [Ed. note: we’re there. – Peter]
Prediction: I’m writing it down and sealing it in a dated envelope that I leave with my neighbor (serious.) I’ll let you know the results Wednesday. #predictionwin.
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