We’ve said it all about this series. All that’s left is to let the team speak. And some really bold ESPN statements.
ORLY LET’S FIND OUT.
Mattie Cooke undresses the D, Mark Eaton is a gorgeous human and makes a pass that flashes 08/09 when his knees stopped exploding, and Morrow takes it and gets it in off of his skate maybe a little. There’s really no motion and the setup was so gorgeous that we are already ready to incite violence when we hear that it’s being reviewed. But Penis McGuire thinks it looks pretty good and he is a jag about potentially illegal moves in the paint, so we feel comforted by his gleaming brow for once in our lives. The call on the ice stands and we’re up 1-0 a little less than halfway through the first.
Never safe. Never comfortable. But still….sigh of relief.
One of the Worst Calls Ever puts Sid on the bench for “hooking.” Eric Condra’s personal space is Very Important. It was really just an amazing play but that’s illegal now in hockey, so good thing we’re being sticklers with new rules. Luckily we kill it.
The period wears on and there isn’t a lot of high drama, which is confusing. Some excellent chances on either side, and it’s generally a good game to watch, especially because we are dominating by a sufficient margin. The break comes up and we’re jauntily sipping our drinks, legs up on the coffee table, pretending we won’t be dying again once the second starts.
The second is hilarious in that the Rules apparently don’t count when it comes to the Sens. There are two blatant penalties that, unlike Sid’s Penalty for Unrealness, do not get called. We enjoy the way such things bond us all in agonized bitching on Twitter, though, so that’s a bonus. Finally the Sens get called for a gross crosscheck, and we get a penalty that is more overdue than the news of Max Talbot’s first illegitimate child. (No, Max, this is not an invitation to Talk to Us, it is just an easy comparison to make, now go back into your hot tub and don’t look us in the eyes.)
Kris and James make an amazing play that ends with the puck pushed over the line, and for some reason it has to be reviewed because WAIT THE PENGUINS SCORED AGAIN MOTHERFUCKER DOUBLE CHECK THAT SHIT TO MAKE SURE THIS CANNOT STAND. Seriously what is this officiating. Goal stands because the war room is like “dudes come on, we have real things to do, cut it out with this shit.” Much to the ref’s chagrin, it’s 2-0.
There is a 4-4 (of course, because how could the Penguins ever have a PP how could it happen) and Kris Letang makes Pierre have an existential crisis. First it’s all WHAT IS THAT PLAY ON THE BLUELINE, SHAME and then it’s all THAT’S WHAT THE COACHES WANT TO SEE FROM KRIS LETANG when he scores. Because great analysis.
Another 4-4 because of some Unrest and ads;fklasdfkj Gene and his slack-jawed face make our dreams come true on a breakaway. Which is untrue because we don’t even get moves like that in our dreams. Sorry for lying to you. Then there’s this, but we’re ignoring it. WHAT ISN’T ANYONE GOING TO CALL UPSTAIRS TO MAKE SURE IT’S LEGIT?
Our shoes are on the coffee table once more when the clock winds down into second intermission. It’s all bravado, no worries. Cockiness is a death wish.
There’s an exchanging of penalties in the beginning of the third that leaves us up for a tiny bit of time that ends up not mattering. Then Neil thinks that his opinions matter. Murray’s bloody nose begs to differ. It’s only two minutes because why. It’s cool – foolishness lands them in the box AGAIN, making us think someone with a bone cleaver in hand and Primanti’s on their breath gave the refs a Talking To during intermission. The third is totally the penalty game we know and hate.
The Crown Royal Robocam is our favorite robot. Lol no just kidding.
James gets all up in Gonch’s biz behind the net, took the puck, and came out in front, putting it where it wants to be.
The Sens cough a death rattle when Kris fucks up, making it 5-2. He is back on Pierre’s shit list. It’s like Pierre wishes he had a son to berate, but instead has chosen a young Penguins defenseman. Which is fine, so long as he promises not to reproduce.
There’s still 5 minutes left. We’ve never felt comfortable with time left on the clock and we won’t start this evening.
Pierre tells us he can’t spell “chemistry” and it feels like a sad admission of loneliness. Sorry for all of the Pierre updates but we really worry about what will happen if we have to act serious during a memorial service for him after he throws himself from a bridge, so we like to keep on high alert when he is around.
SPEAKING OF BEING ON HIGH ALERT WHERE WERE YOU ANDERSON LOL THEM’S THE HATS.
Nothing else matters. Seriously. Because it all comes down to this.
We’d say something to speculate on the coming series, but we’re with Sid. Worry about yourselves.
Rest up, bitches.
Danny, get that tie to the cleaners. It’s going to get a workout.
We’re just getting started.