The Belfour Equation? SOLVED.
Would somebody please tell me what the hell happened to BRODEUR THE WALL this post-season? How could a team that booted Ottawa in Game Seven of the Eastern Conference FINALS be down 3-1 in the FIRST ROUND? Hm.
That was pretty decisive. Rod, Cait's dad, decided we had a winning combination to our spectator system, and so Cait insisted I draw a seating diagram for game six, which is the next time we will all be together. Sarah is not allowed to attend, as she was not part of the winning combination.
So . . . I'm posting this, but it won't be up when I post it, because of the whole Stefan-not-paying-his-bill thing. But that will be solved. I hope.
I was a little distracted in the opening period, because we were all watching Caitlin iron her little sister's hair -- at Julia's insistence, of course. But we were all pleased that Nieuwendyk was injured and back in Toronto. No offense, but he fucked us over with New Jersey last year, so I'm glad he has no chance to do it again.
Weird penalties on all sides tonight. The refs called somethings that were blatant dives (on both sides, to be fair), and then blatantly ignored others that were more honest. Toronto's one goal was on the power play. I think they had six or seven chances. All of Ottawa's goals ('cept maybe the last one?) were at even strength.
At first, it looked like Eddie was going to steal another one for his team. HOWEVER, statistically, the Ottawa Senators, lifetime, both playoffs and regular season, have never been shut out three games in a row. AND Belfour is not one of the seven goalies who holds the record for three consecutive playoff shutouts. You know who does, though? PATTY.
Tonight was not a goose egg night, however. Patty should have stopped Roberts' shot from Sundin and Mogilny, but he didn't. One more notch down on the Respect-O-Meter.
Hossa had a ridiculous breakaway, but fucked it up, and Belfour stopped the puck. Boo. Then there was this ridiculous pileup at the other end on top of Patty. He ended up in the net, and the Toronto player on top of him patted him on the crotch as he got up. I thought that was a little odd. Must've been DOMI. Then there was a shot of Hossa on the bench, still fuming from his fucked up breakaway. He closed his eyes, shook his head, and muttered, "Fuck."
BUT ALL WAS NOT LOST!
Alfredsson took a rebound off Belfour from Havlat (who really did all the work on this one) and knocked a backhand at an odd angle through a tiny hole in Eddie's pads. It was HUGE. The look on Alfie's face said it all. The determination. The pride. The "that's RIGHT, suckers! Who's the BITCH NOW?" Classic.
Sundin took a hooking penalty on Bonk at the end of the first, so the second started with a full two-minute power play. Nothing came of it, and it was horrendously disorganized. Philly took a roughing penalty for punching Marchment (not that he didn't deserve it -- he totally hooked Philly and then cross-checked him in the back), but the Leafs were just as disorganized. They registered -- ready for it? -- no shots during that two minutes.
Odd play followed, wherein Domi tried to check Neil and failed, as Domi is a dwarf, and ended up merely hugging Neil's knee, which left Neil with a rather bemused look on his face. He looked at the referees to see if they would do anything, but they were just as flabbergasted. Hm. Weird little fucker, that Domi . . .
Then -- TADA! Hossa scored. It was great. He totally faked out Belfour, waiting until the Cyclops was convinced he was going to pass it and moved out of position, and then nailing it past him. Unassisted. WOOHOO.
More bizarre penalties followed, including one to Philly for interfering with Tucker (or Touqué, as Rod calls him). Tucker was obviously diving. Although he did look like he was dying. His colour was rather poor. Almost green. Belfour took his first slashing penalty of the series (he already has one for unsportsmanlike -- that came in Game One), which was served by Fitzpatrick, but was offset by a DIVING penalty to Smoke? Come ON.
I liked the third period. It was very relaxed. Leafs fans were pretty much silenced, Matthew Perry was smiling, and all was right with the world. Then Sundin injured himself because he can't skate anywhere without running into the net, and the world got so much better.
And THEN, White -- that's right, Wee Tad -- scored from an innocent-looking shot. It went under review, because S(T)ucker dove AGAIN, but it stood. It didn't touch anything, and so no assists were had on the goal. NEAT. Makes up for the fact that people were going after Wee Tad all night. Did you see the twisted wound on his face? The commentators -- stupid as they always are -- first thought he was Fisher, then said he was going to look like Count Dracula before the night was through. We were confused until we realized that they MEANT he would look like Frankenstein's monster. Fools . . .
THEN PHILLY SCORED! He took a nice feed from Alfie and Bonk to get his goal. Then they cut to a shot of Spezza, with his stick. I only mention this because Jason had BRIGHT RED TAPE on his stick, instead of the usual white and black. This leads me to believe that the time I saw neon pink hockey tape, I was not delusional. I want to get me some of that for *MY* sticks. TEEHEE!
They kept showing shots of the two GMs for the teams. Both were completely deadpan. In Ferguson's case, I think it's because the excessive gel in his hair runs down his face when he gets nervous and glues his face in place. In Muckler's case, I think he's spent too much time around Jacques Martin. *sigh*
Obviously, Domi didn't read my last post. Otherwise, he would have had himself some fibre, and he wouldn't have been as purple and bitchy as he was tonight. He doesn't have an "A" or a "C" on his sweater, so how does he get away with chirping at the refs?
Observation of the evening came from Stefan: when you get checked by Smolinski, you get SMOKED. When you get checked by Hossa, you get HOSED.
HAHAHAHA!
Anyway, then Stef and Cait and I went to a bar near Cait's house. It was karaoke night, but nothing could persuade me to sing. Cait was yelling, "why won't you do it? You're so much better than any of them!" I was yelling back, "well, I already know that. YOU know that. STEFAN knows that. I could give a flying fuck if THEY know that!" She persisted, but I'm stubborn. Yep. Look, I have to be drunk, or unable to see the audience (ie, really fucking bright stage lights) in order to get me to sing. Even being called a WEINER won't do it. Even if it's by your best friend. Hm. No ninety-pound weakling is going to intimidate ME! HAH.
April 15th:
Aww . . . I just emailed my Comics and Culture prof to see if he had the marks in and to confirm a rumour I heard that he wasn't coming back next year. Turns out that I got an A+ on my comic book and that he really enjoyed my "unique insight" into the course materials (this means that I generally had no idea what was going on, so made analogies that only I understood). But alas, he's teaching at Washington State next year (lets him actually see his wife and daughter for once). HOWEVER. He will be back the year after, and I'm glad for that. He had some neat insight of his own into my grad project.
Just reading the paper this morning, and I found two interesting tidbits for you:
First, there was a faceoff in the Toronto zone last night. Right before the puck dropped, the Jumbotron showed a shot of a fan holding up a homemade sign that read, "Roger is with us." The Senators won that face off, which led to Alfie's goal. Take from that what you will.
Also, shout out to Wee Tad. Took a face full of the boards and a stick and got six stitches for it. Then turned around and took a slapshot directly into the small of his back. Then took a nasty slash from Belfour that left Eddie with two minutes, and Tad with a serious need for an ice pack. Then he scored an unassisted goal. Then he took a high stick in his mouth from Antropov, which cut open his tongue and required the doctor to freeze his mounth so he could put in another dozen stitches.
Understandably, Wee Tad was not available for comment after the game, but his teammates were, lauding the little man's determination and uncomplaining play. He may be tiny, but he's got mad skillz, yo. If a Masterton nomination were decided upon the performance in one game, he would get it for that one, hands down. Way to go.
Vitriol plus two:
FUCK YOU, Pat Quinn.
Huge article in the Citizen today about how he's still going on about the Hossa/Berard incident. Firstly, that was FOUR YEARS AGO. It was an accident. Get over yourself. Secondly, Berard's agent says that Quinn's just doing this to piss people off, and not for Berard's benefit, as he personally holds no grudge. In fact, he and Hossa hugged each other the first time he was back on the ice at the CC after his injury. Thirdly, don't you think Hossa feels bad enough about it? His game sucked for a year, and he contemplated quitting the NHL. Think what would've happened if he had done so. Fourthly, and most importantly, if you supposedly care sooooo much about Berard, why didn't you, as GM, give him a qualifying offer, leaving him instead to trawl the League as a free agent? Nothing says I love you like leaving some poor sap out in the cold, don't you think? Especially if you're convinced he's done for.
Berard signed with the Rangers, and returned to the CC on 13 October 2001, with no hard feelings, as evidenced by the embrace between the two players before the puck dropped. Now playing with the Blackhawks, he has 47 points in 58 games this season, second-best in scoring for his team. Done for? I don't think so.
Do we need to have a lesson, Pat, about how the world does not rotate with Toronto, and you, as its axis? Do I need to reiterate to you that everyone ELSE involved has gotten over this incident? We all know what you're trying to do, here. Make sure your comments get back to Hossa. Maybe make him cry, like you did four years ago. But that was then, Pat. He's all grown up now, and I think he's a little bigger, Pat. Bigger than you. In every connotation. He's bigger than your snide backbiting. He's bigger than your laughable attempts at character defamation. He's a bigger man and a bigger player, Pat, than you will ever be, and I don't think you can fully deal with that.
Get over yourself, and maybe your team will stop being so centred around YOU. There is no "I" in team, Pat. Or did you not know that?
Posted by Ally at April 14, 2004 12:00 AM