The Past Shall Soon Be Forgotten: Habs 3 - Pens 2

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.

....

Thank you.

Insert trite and tired "Price is Right" joke here

It's official, Habs have signed TFS to a 2-year deal. As per club policy, financial terms yada yada, but Team 990 is reporting $5.25 mill over 2 years.

Hurray I guess? This seems anti-climactic for some reason.

MEDIA-WHORING UPDATE! I just recorded an interview for CBC Homerun, which will be broadcast today "sometime between 3 and 6 PM". Oy. It was more about A Goat in Vermont than TFS though.

The Phat Whale is Back, Baby

Hey there! Dudes &&& Dudettes!!

The good fellas here at FHF asked me to write a little bit about late night's game. They tell me that this use to be J's gig, but now that I'm a pine-ridin', ball-cap-wearin' backup goaltender, it's my turn to enlighten all of Habs' fandom with my words of wisdom.

Who's J, you ask? Duh, that's the one and only, Mr. Jaroslav Halak. I hear you guys know J cause he's written a bit about his times here in Montreal waaaaayy back when I was the main dude in the blue paint - before the braintrust decided to rest me for the playoffs - a little early in my humble opinion, but whatever, dude. Anyway, J and I get along famously: he's always jokin' around with me, calling me a Phat Whale in his usual straight-faced, you-wouldn't-know-he-was-jokin'-unless-you-shared-a-net sort of way. I also love the way he calls our head coach "Martoon". Makes me think of Bugs Bunny. Now that's a funny rabbit! I call coach "Captain Jacky" - you know, cause he doesn't want a team captain, and his name is really "Jacques"! That's why it's funny! I love irony, dudes.

Anyway, back to J: It amazes me how many dudes think he's serious when he writes that stuff about me! Dudes, J's from behind the I-Ron curtain, he can't spell "Phat" right! He calls me that cause I look so BIG in the net: like the world's largest animal. And it's not like he pissed on my rug and called me an asshole or anythin'. I fucking hate when that happens. And really, there's not much I hate. Karma, you know.

-- Thought just popped into my head: If you could be any animal, whadda ya think it'd be? Not a whale. Dude, I just LOVE horses. That'd be AWESOME. Anyway.

Oh, and before I get into the game action, what's with Bobby G takin' a walk before those games back in my home state even get started? The G's my type of dude: quiet, thoughtful, likes a toke from time to time. And he fucking LOVES bowlin'. You should see him when he's in the lane: I say he's the best all-around and most complete bowler alive today. And he's not even a pro! Dude, that's cool. But did you see that presser with the new main dude, Peter whatever? It was like a funeral for Bobby or somin'.

Anyway, so what's up with the Caps and that winnin' streak? Can't be selfish like that, gotta let the other team win once in a while, as they finally figured out (oops, don't want to ruin the endin'!). Bad karma if you win too often, ya know? Look at me, I'm all about the good karma: I've made sure not to win two in a row since I got called up from Hams - even though I could if I wanted. The braintrust know I'm The Dude. Just wait 'till you see all the zeros on the contract Peter the new dude gives me this summer! (Speakin' o' which : tokes' on me, Bobby G!! Couldn't a done it without 'cha, buddy.)

So let's get to the game. What a start, dudes! Gomer and the NEW Tommy P were fucking FLYING out there on that first shift. But what the fuck was up with o'Byrnsy on that giveaway to that Light dude? Dude was wearing a WHITE jersey, o'Burnsy-dude! But if I know o'Burnsey - and of course, I do - he was high as a KITE by then. He's our very own Rocket Man, ya know what I mean?

But really, the first period of time was all about my good, close personal friend, Mr. Josh Gorges - Gorgeous George to his buddies. You wouldn't know it from all that faith he talks, but dude's got a temper. I bet he pulls a gun on that Mike Green dude in the parkin' lot after the game. It's a league game, Mike!!

And the start of second period of time - wouldn't you know it - same freakin' thing, dudes. The NEW Tommy P pots his FIRST CAREER GOAL just 41 tiks in, and then - BANG - that Ovie dude's line cuts a swath to the crease and - BOOM - all tied up. Did you see that Ovie dude just plow over the Space-head on his way to the net? (We call him "Space-head" cause when he's high, dude comes out with some WILD fucking stories, dudes. You wouldn't believe what you can pay hookers to do back in Space-head's hometown back behind that I-Ron curtain I just learned about.)

So you want to know the real reason the Caps pulled that kid, Newbirth or whatever? Dude couldn't hold my JOCKSTRAP, yo. Just kiddin', I wouldn't ask anyone to do that, except Captain Jacky! Just kiddin again, of course - Captain Jacky loves me, that's why he's playing J so much more. He knew I needed some more pot time. Uhh, I mean...pot time. Anyway, I heard the Newbirth kid was so worried about facing me he crapped his pants. So they brought that Josie dude in, 'cause he has some sort of history around here. I don't remember anyone talking about him before, though. I thought some Patrick dude played here before me and Huey the Real Frenchman. I keep hearing about that Pat guy for some reason.

Anyway, after Josie made a few ok saves, Subway scored (get it? Because that's English for "Metro"? I fucking kill me sometimes. Trust me, we'll be seeing that nickname on Puck Daddy's 'jersey fouls' pretty soon.) Nice goal, even if Subway dude needed to kick it in. Then - BANG - another BUT as they say in Quebecer. I have no idea why the crowd was cheering Josie's name after that one, though. Dudes (some one's gotta tell me what is french-speak for "Dude", by the way) WE scored, not them!!

Then that Ovie dude just plowed over ME to almost score a goal. That's why me and Space-head are so cool, I know how he feels. 500 pounds of Ovie dude and Gillie Weed (dude smokes like a CHIMNEY!) is like a horse coming at you. (I just LOVE horses. Did I mention that yet? It's important.) But that Ovie dude is cool - he's got the quality hook ups for me and Bobby G, if you know what I mean.

-- So I was just wonderin': any of you dudes have any idea why Captain Jacky would be handin' over a big-ass briefcase to some group of dudes in stripy shirts before the game? Probably nothin'. I keep my undies in a briefcase sometimes. Never know who's after your undies.

So anyway, before the end of the second period of time, Tommy P (Classic) scored another one. So when the third period of time started, I was thinkin' "Carey, what would Jesus do?", so right away I let that Mike Green dude score from 45 feet with no one standing anywhere near my paint. I though I'd buy some karma with that since I knew that Mike Green dude must be feelin' worried about what Gorgeous George was gonna do to him in the parkin' lot.

But I was just starting on the karma train, dudes! I've gotta have a whole BUNCH of karma saved up after that (almost) last period of time! You know, cause I let Light shine though to the back of net, twice! (Ha, see, I'm freakin' hilarious when I want to be! It's funny cause he's not really made of photons: he's a man!).

Let's be serious here for a moment: it's not like I couldn't stop all those pucks if I decided I wanted to. Just ask any RDS dudes - they know the truth - it's never my fault. It's just that karma thing, plus this time I was hoping the fans would throw some hats on the ice for that Light dude so I could pick out the ones I like for the next half-dozen games when I'm done playin' and I'm back to watchin'. And I wasn't upset about that last one - as some SUPER excitable dude on TV said - I was just giving the puck to stripy shirt dude. I figured if Captain Jacky liked 'em enough to give 'em a whole briefcase, I should give them something, too. Karma, you know?

Anyway, so then we got into an extra period of time and in the end it's all about my stellar goaltendin' - oh, and the winner by Tommy Classic from Tiny Tits. Tiny Tits was pretty good, what with the triple helpers - but not as good as good ol' Carey, of course. (Ok, ok I know I have to explain that last nickname to you: you see, if you look at the middle letters in "Kostitsyn", what do you see? The word "Tits"! And Sergei's not a big guy, plus he's a little brother, so, like, "Tiny Tits" is a natural! Fuck I'm a funny guy.)

Anyway, that's it. That's the story. Of course, like any good movie, the good guys win in the end. And I'm a good guy.

You're welcome, dudes.

I just love me. And horses, of course!

FHF would like to warn its younger viewers that this is what happens when you smoke too much pot. Probably worth it, though, if your life isn't turning out quite like you expected. Losing touch with reality has it's upside. Let's hear your pot-induced hallucinations in the comments.

Oh Yeah I Did: Habs 4, Hawks 1

29 shots. 28 saves. .966 Save percentage.

I love to say "I told you so", so I'll say it again:

I TOLD YOU SO.

Now go enjoy your day as a proud Habs Fan secure in the knowledge that your goaltending is taken care of until Patrick Roy's grandkids are old enough to start beating people up.