The Canadiens, fresh off a win over the desert dogs, roll their double-wide into Nashville's barn to take on the Predators. Yep, I went there twice in the first sentence. Listen, you can't have a place called The Grand Ole Opry as your claim to fame and expect a cliche-free preview.
Waiting in line at the honky-tonk bar details: Live from Nashville's Sommet Center at 7:00 pm, on RDS
Hotter than a Taylor Swift/Carrie Underwood "duet": Pleks continues to lead the team in scoring with nary a dependable winger to be found. Squid and Gionta still scoring. Price stopped everything that didn't involve an illegal kicking motion or a spear to the throat. The Urologist made one of those plays we all hoped he would. For the Preds, JP Dumont is scoring at almost a point-per-game and Shea Weber and Ryan Suter are the stud defenders all Habs fans can cast envious glances at.
Colder than the corpse of Tennessee Ernie Ford: Same old song and line dance for the Habs: Gui! Max, AK46. When do we stop giving Gomez chances and turn on him? Nashville is 29th in goals scored and dead last on the powerplay, so let's just assume their cold side is everyone else.
A hurtin' kinda feelin': Jaro 2.0 limped off to possibly join Markov, O'Byrne & Gill in the defence infirmary. Other than the fact that they have stone hands, the forwards seem healthy. Colin Wilson is the only long-term Predator injury.
Between the fence posts: Win and you're in should see Price play in the spiritual home of that crap music he loves so much. For the Preds, Dan Ellis and Pekka Riine have almost identical records. Whether Nashville trots out Brooks or Dunn, the results seem to be the same.
Fussin' and a feudin': Wait, there's a Predators blog? Yep, and it's called On the Forecheck.
Post-Game Country Bear Jambaroo: Check out some of these hee-hawtees, then hit the nearest bar with swinging doors and a hitching post out front.