If I may repeat a word so often used amongst the Jews and as recently as in yesterday's preview, oy. Fourth loss in a row. And this one was, in a word, ugly. It's not that we played that badly, to be honest. For a long time there, it really looked like we were playing a decent road game. Yes, we got six hundred penalties in the first, but we killed them, and even scored a shorty. We had decent goaltending, kept the opponent's chances to a minimum, kept them on the outside. The way you want to play on the road against a good team. It was, if I may, Jacques Martin-esque. Well, except for the penalties. Did I mention the penalties? Anyway, it seemed ok for a while.
But then, well, this:
Look, it happens all the time. A weak-ass shot is going two feet over the net, you lazily reach for it with your trapper, don't trap it, the puck bounces downward, off the crossbar, and lands in the crease behind you. But you don't know where it is, so you slowly back into your net, look around like you're totally lost, only to knock the puck in with your heel. Happens every day! So you pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and move on. Well, for the Habs, not so much. We may remember this incident as the moment all was lost. In December. For those of you inclined to panic, please commence doing so right now.
Of course, it wasn't only that moment that doomed us in this game. Plenty of other blech. 3 shots in the 3rd, a total of 18 for the game. That's not good. We have 8 million dollars vanishing before our eyes. Look, I'm not totally blaming the Mexican, at one point his linemates were Tom Pyatt and Métro. That's a fourth line. In Hamilton. BGL is just a waste of a body at this point. Did I mention the penalties? Oh, and for good measure, our most important defenceman since Markov went out, Hamr, limped out of our lives with a lower body injury.
I haven't decided if I'm freaking out yet, but I think I can sum up how I feel this morning with one (sort of) word: sigh.