57 Minutes of Crap + Swiss Mister + TurtlePlek = Holy Fuck

I am sure if other HF's were writing this review this would be an "OMFG what a comeback!" kind of thing (see e.g. HF4 [née HF33]'s brilliance re the Rangers comeback). But you know me - focus on the negative. I'll be happy when I'm dead. Maybe. Just thought you noobs should know that in advance.

Plan the parade - OMFG what a comeback! Totally left for dead midway through the 3rd down 3-1 against an inspired Sabres team, even deader with about 3 minutes left when we got a PP. 3 minutes - can we do it? Old Habs no, new Habs yes. Pleks, by his own admission fighting the puck a bit lately, beautifully tips a Streit point shot. Hope rises out of nowhere. Price pulled. Heart rates rising in the last 30 seconds as Habs get into the zone. Streit gets off a shot from the point and Pleks is there to backhand the rebound in with 14 seconds left. From there even I felt it was inevitable. And in OT, Streit spies an open Higgins at the back door and feeds him a beauty he redirects into a virtually open net. Orgasms for all. First place in the East again. Habs win their 24th road game, 4th highest total in our long glorious history.

There were only two other good things during the game. The Kovy-Grabs give and go that was our first goal had me crying. Wow. Kovy reaches 80 points for only the second time in his career. And then there was TFS(tm). Stopping 35 of 38 shots including a couple of highway robberies, he totally kept us in the game we had no business being in. After the game, I was really impressed when several Habs did post-game interviews on the stationary bike. Very Sens-like. You know, back when the Sens were good.

The sky is falling - hello Habs, we have a game to play. Was it rust after not playing since M0nday? Was it complacency? Was it a Sabres team desperately fighting for its playoff lives? A little from each column I guess. All I know is we were outshot 27-13 through 2 periods. We looked lifeless. We had very few offensive chances, and the Sabres were skating rings around us. The defense really felt the loss of DOOM for the first time. We played a little better in the 3rd, but really, for 57 minutes, the return of Hyde was upon us.

Coach Carbo said after the game, "we didn't respond, but sometimes it's better to be lucky than good, and we took advantage of it in the last minutes." Fuck you, Guy. It's better to be good. It's better to be ready to play from the opening face-off. It's better you get your head out of your ass and realize this team can't play 60 minutes. It's better you realize this fact before the playoffs start.

Mark Streit, for all his offensive heroics, looked a little lost on the back end. A near Breezer-like gaffe directly led to the Sabres' second goal. The rest of the defense wasn't much better. The 3rd and 4th lines, so full of energy lately, seemed non-existant.

Chez Parée bound? Everyone gets in, but only after waiting in line for 57 minutes.

Next evil, evil foe - Leafs! Habs! Saturday night on CBC! Bob Cole! Er, Saturday night!

Special note - Playoff tickets on sale today at noon! It's not a dream after all.

The Impossible is Made Possible - Habs 6, Rangers 5 (SO)

This post is coming to you a bit later than usual because I haven't moved since Jaromir Jagr lost the puck on the shootout in front of Cristobal Huet's crease. I have sat stunned, motionless. My family has come down to the basement to get me into fresh clothes. They try to indulge me into eating something. Maybe wash and shave the growing beard that is slowly appearing on the contours of my face. I'm lost in a daze, frozen in disbelief. Maybe I'll move. Maybe one day.

For the moment I have to acknowledge that in over 25 years of watching hockey I have never seen Montreal involved in a more remarkable regular season game. This isn't the incredible 10 straight wins in overtime that vaulted the team to championship glory in 1993. It's not the improbable 1971 comeback against the Bruins that saw the Habs trailing 5-1 in the second period, only to roar back and win the game 7-5, eventually defeating Boston and winning the Stanley Cup. But for whatever it wasn't, it was fascinating. Just incerdible to watch.

I think the best way to sum this game up is by way of analogy my fellow male brethren may comprehend all too well.

Ranger goal: 1-0 - You get into a nightclub on a Saturday night. You've been looking forward to this night for a while. But you just don't feel right. You should have gotten that haircut, you know it now. Your shirt's a bit off. Maybe you should have worn a belt, your pants are sagging and contributing to an overall feeling of droopiness.

Ranger goal: 2-0 - Your dance moves are definitely off tonight. No rythm whatsoever. Do you revert to the running man? No, no of course not , dammit! That garlic bread should have stayed on the plate where it belonged. Crap, this wasn't the feeling I had hoped for. There's still time to turn this around. It's only midnight. Three more hours to go.

Ranger goal: 3-0 - I can't believe it's already five past midnight. What the hell is happening to my mojo? You go to the bathroom and find that the hair on your head has opted for the pubic look. It looks like a cross between Little Richard and Paul Giamatti. You apply the old water to flatten trick to no avail. You'll have to live with it. But it's dark out there so maybe the girl you've been eying with the revealing décolleté won't notice it.

Ranger goal: 4-0 - Décolleté definitely noticed the thing your hair has been doing all night. She looks at you from afar and can't resist a chuckle. You are too clueless and off your game tonight and mistake her mocking for flirting. You go over to her like the pending catastrophe that you are. You offer to buy her a drink and order two vodka sodas from the bartender. Her look of confusion doesn't tip you off in the least.

Ranger goal: 5-0 - The bartender returns with your bill and tells you your credit card has been declined. You forgot that your rent cheque had gone through leaving you with 1.23$ in your account - savings. Beads of sweat start to form on your forehead as you realize that your night has just collapsed in total misery.

Habs goal: 5-1 - You look so wounded and pathetic that Décolleté girl takes the bar tab and pays for the drink. She laughs at you and says "Put all your money in those RRSPs, didn't you?" and turns away. She said something. She said it to you. Can you say anything to respond? Anything? "Nah, not married, no need for RSVPs". Her look of confusion grows larger still.

Habs goal: 5-2 - Totally unaware of the retarded comment you just made you decide to press on. Décolleté girl appears constricted, wanting some space and generally unresponsive. She's now got her back turned to you and there's really nothing you can do but sip on that drink. Slowly. If only you could have a cigarette like days before which allowed you to look like you were doing something besides feeling like a total moron. At least it made you look like you felt cool. In those days, it made you look occupied. But you notice that Décolleté girl hasn't left your side. She could have.

Habs goal: 5-3? - Décolleté girl is dancing at the bar with her friends. She hasn't said a word to you since you offered her your RSVP advice. You don't know what to do with yourself. Screw it, I'm going for the Running Man. You gauge the space required to launch into such acrobatics and, after careful calculations, you move into a full Running Man, oblivious to the fact that the DJ is playing Fergie's Big Girls Don't Cry. The contrast makes you look ridiculous. Décolleté turns around to see the folly that is unravelling behind her. Slowly you hear mounting laughter and cheering in the crowd. Decolleté girl draws inspiration from the crowd's reaction and begins to view you in a different light; sure you smell like garlic and your hair looks like Carrot Top's after chemotherapy, but you have personality, you've got something.

Habs goal: 5-4! - Décolleté girl follows your lead and lets herself go. You're totally riding the crowd's support. You've got them all doing the Running Man. She's dancing with you unaware of time, the people around her in the Running Man, despite it being a dead dance and all. She's just looking at you. She moves her arms around your neck and lunges in (is this starting to feel like a Penthouse letter?) to show you what dancing is really all about.

Habs goal!!! 5-5!!!!- Décolleté girl is grinding you on the dance floor like lean beef. She's all yours tonight. You know it, she knows it and so does everyone else in the room. You're panting your garlic breath all over her and she's wondering if you have any more of those rasberries with you; you can do no wrong. The bar breaks into WOOP! There it is! It's only a matter of time.

KOIVU GOAL - HUET STOPS JAGR HABS WIN 6-5!!!!!!!! - This has to be the best sex you've ever had. You guys have been going at it in your room for over seven minutes. Her legs are kicking up on your HE-MAN posters. By the power of Greyskull, you say to yourself, out loud, this has to be the most improbable night of your life.