visiting the caves

This was a short play, in three acts, about how to just hunker down and get your shit done.  Madison Square Garden wanted their heroes, but they got a bedraggled squad of ruffians.  They had so much hope.


Listen.  What the hell even is New York City?  Who does this?  Who wears an Adam Graves jersey?

god, we hate New York.  We hate everyone.

That’s the spirit.




Again, the first period wasn’t great for the Pens.  They took a bunch of dumb penalties, including a double minor high stick by Neal towards the end of the period.

Oddly enough, everyone just took a deep breath and dug in.  Penalty killing was flawless.  Everything was flawless.  MAF was present and able.  A calm seemed to be descending.



The spectre is looming.

Rangers start the period with 2 minutes of PP and keep the Pens hemmed in.  St. Louis hits a post.

It wasn’t long after though. . .


Yup, Crosby scored.  HE IS AWAKE like Smaug or the Beast in the Pit.


He got sprung up-ice by Bortuzzo of all people.  Marc Staal had no idea what to do, nor really did anyone.  There were shrieks and fainting the world over.

Pens basically pooped around for a little while and got into some penalty trouble.  The puck came to Jokinen out of the box.  It was too stupidly easy.



Defensive plays abounded throughout the period though.  PaulMart was being his own damn self and making the Rangers look foolish.  Olli Maatta had a lot of feelings except the good kind.  We are continually amazed that that is a teenager out there doing the things he does.

Sublots: everyone is marginally awake.  Neal has at least one section of MSG actively booing him.  With good reason, probably.


Jacques Martin ripped a thunderous hole in the Earth next to MSG and put everyone’s souls in it so that the third period could be completed without incident.

We learn that Pierre is up for a Sports Emmy for Sideline Reporting and we laugh a little too hard, which wakes everyone up.  (Hush, we know that Regis knows a lot about hockey.  He’s a hockey encyclopedia in many ways.  It’s just funny when one of the major ambassadors of your sport just HAS to be that annoying and that creepy.  He just HAS to be.)

Lundqvist got pulled with 2:45 remaining.

Somewhere in the middle of the second flush, the Penguins are roused from Dust Cloud Hactar Mode and the Krikkit Wars begin.  Mats Zuccarello tried to make Norwegian rain and someone was going to the box with just under 2:00 to play.

The most tense moments of the entire game then, reportedly, occurred, as our souls tried to crawl their way back into our bodies.

Sutter broke his stick blocking a shot.  Scuderi’s Ghost from 2009 made an appearance.  Craig Adams clearing the puck like it’s the first day of spring.

We survived.  As mere shells, but we survived.



MAF’s life cycle as a goaltender has been mercurial so far, but when he’s hot, he’s hot.  There may be no goalie in the NHL with such complicated fucking emotional baggage.  Like your first love, however, the bittersweet element to it somehow keeps it magical and affectionate long after more cynical people have given up hope.  We’re not trying to be dicks, we’re saying MAF is VERY good when he is good and if he keeps playing like this, and if the Pens continue to make mental notes of the fact that the game is played for a total of 60 minutes (3600 seconds), this could go on for a little while.

MAF has joined the slight ranks of goaltenders with back to back playoff shutouts on consecutive days.  The Rangers were tired, but they weren’t without their chances.  MAF stole the Penguins the game.  And Crosby is poised to burn down Laketown.

bitches on my dick

Go Pens.


About Zoë

from Fayette County, living in Boston, chronically fussy. Writing about the Penguins, the CWHL/women's hockey, and hockey/sports media criticism.