I counted three saves last night. I couldn't resist calling them saves of Halakian proportions.
Carey stopped a whole lotta stuff last night. Enough side to side movement to make me want to dust off my Achy Breaky Heart moves. I just don't think you understand folks.
Last spring's seven game series has turned these games into chippy, feisty and festive affairs. No doubt a rivalry was born. The Habs' 6-game win over Jagr's Pens in the late 90's didn't create a fraction of the animosity 2010's series did.
It's so intense that the Pittsburghonites booed PK every time he touched the puck. Before and after the kid took a high stick to the face. Booing PK? Now what on earth has PK done to merit that kind of treatment? If you're gonna boo, douchebags, why not boo the player who scored 43 goals against you in 7 games, one of which featuring the most compelling foot to stick special you'll ever order.
Maybe they booed PK because the fans figured the series was a done deal after the Pens took out our anchor on the blue line. Maybe the fans hadn't realized that PK would step into Markov's shoes like the Talented Mr. Ripley.
Carey was so good on this night he started to pull the converts out of hiding. The goaltending he gave us made it feel like spring all over again. Remember those insane identical pad saves Jaro made on Crosby and Malkin in the early portion of the third period of game 7? Those were so good you'd want to create a religion for them.
Well Carey came up with his own brand of doctrine yesterday.
Catching my drift here people?
I won't totally buy into the dogma yet, but I'll let the guy ringing at my bell in and listen to what he's got to say. Last year, I was making sure no one would walk in front of the door so that they wouldn't see that we were home. Now, I'm listening.
Was he ever quick in his lateral movements. That notoriously slow glove was pretty remarkable on a couple of occasions.
Look Carey, again, I won't move to Denmark with your followers and track a comet around Iceland, but you can come in and I'll make you a cup of camomile. Leave the pamphlets with me, I'll take a look at them. But you've got to do me a favour. If I'm joining your group of disciples, you have to throw a curse on the infidels that have the gall to boo one of the nicest young gentlemen this league has ever known.
I want you to make Evgeni Malkin look like Shrek.