Let the mourning begin

The season is dead. Killed in an excruciating yet exciting finale. Thanks to every one of you who made this season a blast as always. See you in a few days.

Forget Dr. Jekyll, can I just Hyde? Caps 2 - Habs: 3rd consecutive goose egg

Man, we sure did get a lot of mileage out of this pic... 

Please indulge me in a bit of a personal digression...

I have a trial starting in about a week.  My stress levels have never been higher, I'm no longer sleeping well, I'm not motivated to work, I can't concentrate on anything and so the deadlines keep piling up, time feels like it's slipping away from me while I feel powerless to do anything about it.  And so, the panic keeps getting worse and I don't know how to stop the cycle.

Even with all of that, I still wouldn't change places with ANY member of our beloved Canadiens de Montréal this morning.

They wish they could put a bag on their heads and forget about it, slinking away from the spotlight while nobody notices them.  They don't have that luxury.  So much credit to Squid, Gio and even Gomer for manning up and standing together to face the music (i.e. the reporters) last night after the Habs' 3rd consecutive shutout loss.  Shit, Gomer even admitted that "it starts with me" and that he's part of the problem this year.  Squid was apparently barely audible for parts of the interview and Gio was mumbling platitudes in his "Just because I'm the captain, don't expect me to say anything truly meaningful, ever" way.

And poor Carey Price kicked his shoes across the locker room in frustration 'cause, even though he's doing his best, short of skating up the ice himself, there is nothing he can reasonably do to stop the futility.

I don't know what the Habs need to do to get out of this.  Martin finally went for the bag skate this morning, but I'm still not sure that's the answer, or, if it was at some point (say, after the Boston game), it certainly isn't anymore.

Maybe it is some form of collective PTSD (as discussed in my morning email chain with GG11) following all of the bullshit both on and off the ice following Patches' injury.  All I know is that this isn't the team that I thought we had. These aren't the Montreal Canadiens that fought tooth and nail to get through some rough shit last year through the first two rounds of the playoffs.

They do, however, resemble the Habs that looked as though they had nothing left in the tank after game 3 vs. Philly.

Maybe, due to the shit luck they've had with injuries, the tank was emptied early this year.

I would be worried, but not panicked if there were more than 6 friggin' games left in the regular season.  Fact is that there aren't.  And that's the problem with psychological trouble and other shit that gets in your head and gives you a rising case of panic-induced-paralysis.  Time is the only thing that can ever truly heal that feeling, and when you feel like time is running out... well... I think we've all been there at some point, so we know that it only makes things worse.  Especially with the fact that they get to have 21,273 people booing them, yelling at them to get their shit together, and fast.  While I don't blame the fans for booing, right now, that has got to be the least helpful thing we can do for our team.

This is the time when teams are supposed to be tuning up for the playoffs.  Habs can't do that right now, because they're trying to shake a gorilla off their collective backs - one that is getting heavier by the second.

If they do manage to shake it off, there's a chance that they'll be stronger than ever and potentially even be in a good position for the playoffs.  Kind of a "We've been down before - what you're giving us Philly/Boston/Whoever is NUTHIN' compared to that."

But, that's a pretty big if.

Until then, I can only imagine that the panic level among both players, coaches and staff is light years beyond anything that I feel right now.

And that, my friends? Scares the shit out of me way more than a 3rd consecutive shutout, because it doesn't bode well for avoiding a fourth...  Or a fifth... Or a sixth...

*panic*

Moving On Day: Bruins 7, Habs 0

Move on.  Pack up all the Valentine's Day Beatdown, Pacioretty/Chara, Marchand's big mouth, Recchi's medical diagnosis, last night's embarrassment stuff in boxes, shove it into the back of the truck, and move on.  Because if the Habs don't, they are in serious jeopardy of free falling right out of the playoffs, let alone out of sixth place and a first-round date with the Bruins. 

This team is broken.  They battled through injuries, questions about their size, "The System", the beat down in Boston, lack of respect from the pundits and league.  They battled despite minimal contributions from high-priced Cammy and Gomez, the fits and starts of guys like Pouliot and Kostitsyn, the rookie mistakes and struggles of PK and DDD and the crippling of an entire defence corps.  But the cloud that is the Pacioretty incident has shaken this team to pieces.  They are broken.  The record since Pacioretty's injury?  Lacklustre effort the next game in St. Louis.  Shut out Pittsburgh.  Lacklustre effort versus Washington.  Barely escape in the shootout versus Tampa.  Pounded by the Rangers.  A freakshow against a horrible Wild team, and consecutive embarrassments against Buffalo and Boston.  3 wins, 5 losses.  Looking worse with each loss. 

There is only so much crap a team can take before breaking.  Three weeks ago, were any of us disappointed in how this team full of Bulldogs had fought?  Why, we were even praising the coaches for the way the myriad of call-ups performed.  The development of Lars Eller.  The resurrection of Andrei Kostitsyn as a useful player (not the scorer we all hoped, but certainly a viable option as a Canadien moving forward).  But the Pacioretty hit seems to have cast a pall over everything this team does.  Talking about it, and reading about it, and hearing the debate on all sides 24-7 was crazy enough as a fan - I can't imagine what it would be like inside the fishbowl of the Canadien's dressing room.  Every time someone else threw an elbow TSN showed Chara smashing Pacioretty into the stanchion.  Every week there was more anticipation for last night's game (will the Habs go after Chara?  will there be a gang war at centre ice?). Then Brad Marchand and Mark Recchi opened the barely healing wounds again with their idiotic comments.  Getting this game in the rear view mirror couldn't come fast enough. 

But is it enough?  There were moments in last night's game that it looked like there were thirty Bruins on the ice.  Take nothing away from Boston; they looked like a terrific combo of speed and size and skill at times.  But the Habs looked beaten before the puck even dropped and save for some spurts, never once did I think they were coming back to make a game of it.  Not once.  The fact that the game only ended 7-0 is a testament to Carey Price, who must have felt like shit for all of his 45 minutes of action.  The Bruins broke the Canadiens spirit early and often last night.  All the fight this team normally displays disappeared.

The pollyannas aren't going to want to hear it, but here it comes:  This is not a very good hockey team as it is presently constituted.  They take a ridiculous amount of penalties.  Do you know how bad you have to be to be 30th in the league in penalties?  They are too small.  They have very little offensive push.  The talent that should be leading that charge is disinterested, injured, or just not good enough to do it on a consistent basis.  They are unable to, or unwilling to adapt to change their game when things aren't working.  Shuffling deck chairs on the Titanic won't fix the massive hole in the hull any more than flipping Halpern and Darche around on the wings will stop the Bruins train from smashing you to pieces.  This team misses Max Pacioretty's combo of size, speed and skill far more than I ever thought they would, but it's true.  In hindsight, he might be the second most important forward on this roster, because everything has fallen apart since he went down and it can't all be attributed to the mental aspect of his injury. 

There is something very wrong with Michael Cammalleri.  I don't know if he's hurt, or too wrapped up in "being Michael Cammalleri" or what, but he looks terrible.  The defence without Markov, Gorges and Spacek is too slow and offers very little offensive support.  The fact that the Habs can't even find two pairs of defencemen to man a powerplay speaks volumes.  Too many players are wildly inconsistent, from Pouliot and PK to Cammy and the captain.  I love much of what Brian Gionta brings to this team, but he is paid to lead and score goals.  I don't need him to be a shutdown defender or penalty killer.  I don't need him to fight, or lay big hits, or even be good in the community.  I need him to score when we need a goal.

Scott Gomez needs to go.  This is not news.  But the reality is very different this morning than it has been in the past.  I've been on Gomez for years because I thought he was better.  That he was lazy, or didn't compete, or didn't care enough, and that infuriated me.  Last night was different.  For all his faults last night, Scott Gomez was working his ass off.  If he didn't care, he would have packed it in after getting his nose broken.  He didn't.  He got pissed off and went back out there.  Admirable.  But here's the rub:  Scott Gomez appeared to be busting his ass last night and he still was an ineffective albatross.  And it hit me:  Scott Gomez has regressed so far as a hockey player that it doesn't matter if he tries or not.  He's just not good enough to do what he's supposed to.  There is no cure for this.  Gomez is finished as a viable first or second line centre unless, at age 31, he can totally reinvent himself.  I don't believe he can.

This team has done a fantastic job of keeping its head above water with all its injuries.  The emergence of Lars Eller is a great thing to watch.  Ryan White is rapidly becoming one of my favourite players - there was a moment late in last night's game before a face-off where the camera focused on White, who had the look of a man who wanted to murder anyone in black and gold.  He, among precious few others last night, did not quit. David Desharnais continues to defy the odds.  Carey Price might be the best goaltender in hockey already and has probably kept this team alive for far longer than it deserved.  Tomas Plekanec is worth every penny when healthy.  When healthy and clicking, this team can give anyone in the league a run for their money, and I would feel confident taking them versus the Bruins in the first round if that were the case.  There is a faint glimmer of hope that people will get healthy for the playoffs and things will improve, and that's what I'm hoping for.  But will it be enough to push away the cloud this team is under?  Unless they have reserves they can call on, this is not the year.  Not without Markov, Gorges, Pacioretty, Spacek, the Cammy they thought they were paying for, and Price standing on his head.  That is fact.  This is not their year.  They are broken.

Sigh. Leafs 5, Habs 4.

I'm not going to get angry.  I'm not going to get angry.  I'm not going to get angry.  I'm ... okay, the odds are I'm going to get angry. 

About the refereeing.  The first Leaf goal was on a powerplay for the weakest hooking call in the history of hockey.  Kessel's brilliant shot should never have been allowed to happen.  The refs were terrible all game on both sides of the divide.  NHL refereeing is an absolute joke. 

About the goaltending decision.  Alex Auld isn't at fault for goals 1 and 3.  He most certainly is at fault for goal 2.  Jesus Fucking Christ, put your skate on the post.  Why Carey Price wasn't in from minute one baffles me.  No, he can't play every game.  Yes, he just went through a big emotional win out in his home province.  Sure, the Leafs are below Montreal in the standings for now. 

But Price had already shut the Leafs out twice at home this year.  And the Leafs are streaking right now and deserved more respect.  And Price probably felt pretty great saving everyone's bacon in the classic "system" game and was probably raring to go.  And Auld should have played in that fucking ridiculous outdoor game so Price was more rested (you know why Ty Conklin has played in three Winter Classics?  Because glorified shinny games are where you toss in your backup, that's why, Martin.  YOU FUCKING MORON.)  Last night was when the Canadiens needed to step on Toronto's throat and announce that there was no way the ACC was seeing playoff hockey in 2011.  To do that, they needed to have their best player.  You think the Leafs weren't chomping at the bit to get at Alex Auld instead of Price?  Well, fucking Martin didn't.

You know why this review is so late?  Because I honestly couldn't think of the way to put all the angry thoughts I had about Jacques Martin down coherently.  The laundry list of things about that man's coaching last night (and every other night) is actually depressing.  To wit:

• Last night's best line for the Canadiens was clearly Pleks, Cammy and Halpern.  Naturally, when the Canadiens had a powerplay, the correct decision is to start Pleks, Cammy and Andrei Kostitsyn, who proceeded to suck the life out of every chance, muffed an open net, and handed the puck away at an alarming rate.  You know, a typical night for Forrest Kostitsyn.
• The kid line of Desharnais, White and Pouliot showed some real jump at times, with White banging and crashing, DDD winning battles, and Pouliot using his size and speed.  So it made perfect sense to give them roughly 6 minutes of ice time all game, and no powerplay time for Pouliot, one of the only Habs wingers with size, speed and a modicum of offensive talent.  Best to let Forrest Kostitsyn slouch his way around for a minute and a half each man advantage rather than say, a red-hot Max Pac or Pouliot.   
• Lars Eller surely didn't need more than 7 minutes of ice time and no powerplay time or penalty killing time, what with the bang up job the PK did last night agains the vaunted Leafs powerplay. 
• Sure makes sense to hand 20 minutes of ice time to the black hole known as Scott Gomez ... why, who else can make thirty rushes into the Leafs zone, turn his back at the blue line and make a soft pass to a covered winger?
• Fantastic idea to start Hamrlik with the Wiz on every powerplay.  I know when I need a goal on the man advantage, I wouldn't turn to my electrifying rookie D-man.  I'd go with the overworked 36 year old for three times as much PP time than some punk kid with a cannon shot and a penchant for end-to-end rushes.  No sirree, don't want to throw any caution to the wind. 
• And I sure as hell wouldn't want to discuss anything with the referees, whether in a civil tone or not.  Nope, I think it's better to JUST FUCKING STAND THERE DUMBFOUNDED as the game and season fucking drops right off the map in front of me.  After all, my vaunted system has throttled the life out of any possible momentum this team could ever build so why bother? 
• Oh, and before anyone starts calling for Kirk Muller to get the head job, someone answer me this:  What the fuck is Muller in charge of?  Is there any discernible improvement in any facet of this team's game?  Good fucking Christ, these assholes can't even muster enough guts and brainpower to breakout of their own end in the last two minutes ... are you telling me Muller has all these fucking fantastic plans that Martin just ignores?  Muller and Pearn are just as much of a problem at this point. 
• And please spare me the "this team is missing so many guys - to have them where they are is a testament to Martin's coaching" bullshit.  With Markov and Gorges and a healthier Cammy, this team would be still finish 5th to 10th.  Last year's miracle run was because Jaro played lights out for two months, the Pens played abysmal and Bruce Boudreau might be the only coach dumber than Martin. 

You know what?  As angry as I am, there's no sense being so.  Because until Jacques Martin is gone, the Habs are going to be outcoached and out-thought more often than not, and only superhuman efforts from Price, Plekanec, Subban, and the rest will overcome that.  That's no way to win in this league.  Really great teams with transcendent stars can win despite their coach.  Really average teams don't.  One can only hope that by the time PK, Price, Max Pac, Louis Leblanc and the rest of the prospects are in their primes that Martin is long gone.  I honestly have not disliked a Montreal coach this much since Bob Berry.  Fuck, even Mario Tremblay's fucking teams were interesting.  So I give up.  I honestly didn't think I would ever say it, but there is absolutely no hope in me that this presently constituted Montreal Canadiens team will win a Stanley Cup.  And that's sad.  Martin's coaching chokes the life out of his players and has choked the joy out of watching the Habs for me (and I'm guessing many others).  He needs to go, or I will.  Watching the Canadiens is a joyless, bitter experience at the moment, and that's the one thing it should never be.  I refuse to be caught in 6th to 10th, middle-round drafting, out in the second round purgatory with that fucking stupid fool jotting shit down behind the bench as his players get fucked by the refs and trampled trying to play his useless system.  The rest of this year already is shaping up as a Bataan death march of win one, lose two, be life-or-death to finish seventh and avoid getting fucking bludgeoned by the Flyers in round 1.  Fuck it.  Why bother?  This is not a Montreal Canadiens team I can love.  So I won't. 

Game Review: Fuck it, I don't want you back - Bolts 4, Habs 1 / Half-Assed Game Preview: Panthers vs. Habs, I guess...

(For the record, I started writing this recap with 13:33 left in the 3rd period)

(How I plan to watch tomorrow's game)

Conversation between me and Mr. LG77 during dinner (turkey leftovers, natch) at 6:35 last night:

Me: By the way, I have to recap tonight's game for FHF.

Him: Do we really have to watch that shit? I wanna play Call of Duty. Less of a bloodbath.

Me: Yeah, well, they may not suck tonight. They've sucked way too many games in a row, eventually their luck has gotta change, right?

Him: But didn't you just finish telling me that you had a shitty day? Watching that game is going to be like work for both of us - no fun, just pain. 60 minutes of pain.

Me: We don't normally suck for all 3 periods...

Him: Fine. Here's your fucking recap. Habs played. They lost. They suck. Is this fucking road trip over yet?

Me: God, you're such a pessimist...

During the first period and the leadup to the game, I was so fucking positive, it was nauseating. I mean, Cheez Whiz (Whizzer? Jizzer? Jury's still out on the nickname for me) was doing a ridiculously endearing interview with Pierre Houde at first, and I was thinking that maybe he was the gel that was missing for our beleaguered D-corps.

Then I heard that Cedric Desjardins was getting his first NHL start against the CH and I thought "Oh, fuck. Not another French Canadian goalie." (PS - great coaching decision by Boucher to shield his ass from the Mtl media feeding frenzy before the game)

Then the first period happened and HOLY FUCKING SHIT - we were playing well! Fewer dumping line changes, energy and speed through the neutral zone. I was thinking maybe the Habs were going to have a solid game...

And then the second period happened. I should have known that the Universe was just setting me up for a shitstorm of Biblical proportions.

Two too-many-men penalties in the span of a minute?? Are you fucking shitting me? That is an epic brain fart, akin to O'B's own goal against the Islanders. Symptom of the stink emanating from behind the bench... even if hockey is more difficult to coach than other sports due to the speed and fluidity of the game - LEARN TO FUCKING COUNT, COUNT CHOCULA.

Here's a primer, Jacques:

I don't give a shit whether it's Pearn or Muller who is in charge of the PK/line changes/basic fucking math, the buck stops with the expressionless dude behind the bench. Fin.

And that, ladies and gentlemen was the beginning of the end for the Habs last night. After that momentum killing bullshit, they looked disorganized, disjointed, dispirited and, well, fucking dead.

Dear Montreal Canadiens: my grandparents are coming with me to see the Habs game on Sunday. They live in Quebec City. Going to a hockey game with my grandpa has been a lifelong dream of mine, and I finally get to go with him on Sunday.

Please, please, please, please, PLEASE, PLEASE at least show up and put up a fight. A win would clearly be too much to hope for at this point, I realize that. But, please... just make a fun game of it. It's all I ask.

Discussion at the end of the game:

Him: Told you it would be like work.

Me: Sigh.

*****************

Oh, fuck, there's another train wreck tonight? Great. Just peachy.

I would set this up like a real game preview, but seeing as the team can't be bothered to put any effort forward on the ice, why should I bother putting any effort in previewing teh suck?

Game is at 5:00. In Florida. Sucks even more to be us - at least the Habs are getting some sunshine prior to the game. At least they have the decency to play the game early so that we can all go about our lives again afterwards.

You know, a win would be anti-climactic at this point. Kinda like the ex-boyfriend or girlfriend who comes to try to win you back after they killed your self-esteem for a year. Sure, it's nice at the time, but the disappointment still lingers.

Thanks, Habs. 2010 had been a great year until you coughed up a hairball in December.

Disappointed? Vengeful? Hating your ex? Filled with meh? Ring in the new year with us in the Comments. Oh, you can talk about the game too, I guess.

Habs Nearing End of Dismal Trip: Lightning Game Preview and Open Thread

Okay, everyone is on holidays and I'm guessing very few of you give a rat's ass about the ass-whupping the Habs are taking every night on this trip.  So let's just get this over with, shall we?

The game is at 7:30 in Tampa at the St. Pete Times Forum.  On RDS, Habs TSN.  Canadiens are playing brutal, 1-4 on the seven game trip so far.  Price in net as usual, since Gauthier left us with Alex Fucking Auld as the backup.  Price will be dead by March, btw.

Other stuff you need to know:  Calgary cast off (never forget that ... Calgary has been run terribly for way longer than you think) Marty St. Louis and Steve Stamkos are both top five in scoring.  Hey, remember when we all wanted Vinny and the Lightning wouldn't give him?  Probably could have has St. Louis for peanuts.  Stamkos is probably going to score 5 goals tonight, just so you know. 

Everyone on the Habs looks awful, and I they've clearly quit on that fucktard Chocula.  He's fucking terrible.  Oh, and the guy who should be coach is behind the other fucking bench.  Honestly, I'd rather send PK down to Hamilton so Randy Cunneyworth can rebuild him until Chocula gets stuffed in Panger's trunk.  This team isn't as good as they looked earlier in the year, but they aren't this bad either.  The loss of Markov and Chocula's garbage coaching are twin towers of crapitude. 

Oh, and the Wiz makes his debut tonight.  Wanna bet PK ends up sitting?   Chocula is thinking about it right now.  (I think he hates black people.  Pass it on.  Surely that could get him fired, right?)

Nominations for coach?  I think Bob Berry deserves another shot, whaddya say?

THE MAGIC ENDS

So many ups and downs, so much drama. The most magic we've seen in years coupled with the most gut wrenching hockey experience we can remember. I honestly believe my heart couldn't tolerate more of this.

Our traditional call to black has arrived. We must go mourn now.

Sun setting on Habs season - Caps 6, Habs who the fuck cares anymore

Well, it's been a real slice kids. This season has been a wild up and down (mostly down) ride we won't soon forget. I am not here to bury the Habs, nor to praise them, or however that stupid saying goes. I'm here to thank you for all your support of FHF this season and the good times we've had. We'll see you back in September.

Wait, what's that you say? Caps only up 3-1? Season not over? Well, it sure feels like it to me.

I'd love to dissect for you guys what happened out there last night, I really would. That would be my "job" as a blogger wouldn't it? Alas, frankly it's just too painful. Like the Habs' season! Zing!

Here's what I'll dissect - the moment when the season ended. Late 2nd period. Habs have dominated. 21 shots on net in the period. Finally get rewarded with a Gio PP goal to go up 2-1. NOOOOOOO, the Habs have a lead! Bad news. Habs get a late penalty. Like all penalties to that point in the series, Habs come up with an epic kill. Then the Caps have 6 skaters on the ice for about 3 minutes. Habs PP, and they're riding more momentum than a fat whale riding a perfectly spherical boulder down a 60-degree slope. A couple of chances on the PP, only a handful of seconds left 'til we come out of 40 minutes with a 2-1 lead we'll fight to protect in the 3rd to finally win a home playoff game and even this series. And then...

Oh, Hamr, you hurt us. It was sort of flub with the puck, it was sort of a pinch that he shouldn't have pinched, it's kind of hard to tell. But it led to a 2 on 1 shorthanded break the other way. Goal, KKnuble, with 7 seconds left. Game tied 2-2. Season over. Really.

The 3rd period was a mere formality. Habs never came out of the dressing room. Caps pop two in quick succession in the middle of the period, and it was downhill from there. All that was left was a bunch of Carey Price unsportsmanlike conduct penalties and empty net goals. To be honest, I loved the first Price penalty, shooting the puck int the Caps goal celebration after the 4th goal. Showed he's a crazy goalie (redundant I know) who cares. Unlike his teammates in the 3rd.

You could say the Habs deserved better in this series. Shoulda, woulda, coulda. Shoulda won Game 2. Without Hamr, woulda won last night. Coulda been up 3-1. But that's all for shit now. Yes, there is a Game 5 on Friday night. But that's probably a mere formality as well. See you in September.

Not Even These Guys in the Fake Suits Could Save Us

For a few minutes, there was hope.

Then those few minutes passed. 

GOODBYE MY LOVERS

The FHF declare 2 days of mourning. Team not worthy of full seven days of Shiva.

Post your condolence messages here. Don't cry my angels. 

Can you pass it on to your wife? - classic.

Oh Via Rail, you do amuse me (in soul-crushing fashion)

We'll possibly get around to reviewing the game soon. Possibly not. We're kinda depressed here at FHF headquarters. But about an hour ago I received this awesome email from Via Rail, which I thought I'd share:

Dear Mr. HF29,

Don't let your travel plans get in the way of your love for hockey!

If you're planning on travelling between Toronto and Montréal in the coming weeks, just board Train 66 or 67 in VIA 1 class and you'll have exclusive access to the VIA 1 Lounge Car. The Lounge Car’s 42" flat screen HDTV will feature all the action of the Stanley Cup playoffs-so you won't miss out on anything. Cheer on your favourite team while travelling in style!

Book today! May the best team win!

They know me so well. Toronto here I come!

A Question for Our Readers

Not much to say about last night's game, but I hear a picture is worth a thousand words anyway. The choice is yours, FHF reader: which one is more appropriate after last night's game?



Or



Let's hear how bad the Habs suck in the comments....again.

Oh, the motherf*cking humanity.

The Battle of Cannae. Flodden Field. The Munich Air Disaster. Music From the Elder. Ishtar. Lynne Spears, parent. Last night.

Panger said it best: "There was a game last night? Someone should have told the Canadiens"

Bad start. Bad middle. Bad ending. Was this the true nature of this Canadiens team? It's not an aberration if it happened on Saturday too. That's a dozen goals shipped against our two most hated of foes in less than a week. A comprehensive victory against a team that just lost to the Islanders does not make it palatable. This is a team that has some serious issues right now, and the one saving grace for them is that they have banked points they will desperately need later in the year. The East looks tougher than it was expected to be. Maybe they right the ship and finish as "the class of the East", as so many trumpeted them to be. But the Rangers show no signs of slowing down, Buffalo is back on form, the Leafs and Bruins are clearly not automatic points in the bank, and teams like Pittsburgh, Philly, and Jersey are awfully talented. If the Habs thought they were waltzing to another first-place finish those thoughts had better be gone now.

The Sky? She's fallen: Price was burned repeatedly, with requisite hand wringing from Montreal fans and "overrated" talk from opposing fans. The Canadiens have gone all in with a pair of very young goalies and there will be more nights like this. Be ready. I think Price will still be very, very good. But he's not starting for the 2010 Olympic team yet.

Milan Lucic/Cam Neely comparisons are starting to worry me. I don't see him play that often, soI have no idea what he's like against Florida or St. Louis, but he cranks it up against the Habs. He won that fight with DOOM fair and square and is clearly in Komisarek's head. He's going to be a major pain for the Habs for a long, long time. Please let him price himself out of Jeremy Jacob's range quickly. (Is there a silver lining to DOOM losing a fight, possibly breaking his hand, and being out for weeks? Perhaps the twits who continue to claim he never fights/backs up his talk will shut up. DOOM fights as often as is necessary for a guy who is usually busy shutting down opposing top lines ... the claims that he hides behind the ref are garbage. He usually has better things to do than tussle with some idiot like Ryan Hollweg.)

The defence still needs strengthening, more so if DOOM is out for any length of time. The need for a top-four defender becomes more apparent every time Price gets hung out to dry for a half-dozen goals.

Less stupid penalties would help too.

A little more toughness when the going gets rough couldn't hurt either. Guys like Plekanec, Tanguay, and Big Tits are never going to thrive in last night's game, and the toughness of Koviu, Higgins and Little Tits is all fine and dandy but they aren't exactly monsters. If you aren't aware of the value of Greek Lightning in games against teams like Boston and Philly, you're blind. By the way, if someone could poke Big Georges with a stick and wake him the fuck up, that would be nice.

Plan the Parade: In the words of HF29: Ha ha, I kill me. There better be a goddamn parade of Canadiens puking over the boards because Carbo skates them into the ground this morning.

Well, it was a fun 12 games: 12 straight over the Bruins was fun. But it was bound to end sooner or later, and the odds were it was going to end badly, in front of a baying crowd of Fleet Centre/TD Banknorth crazies. Maybe it takes a few of our more zealous fans down a notch so we can start looking to win on merit rather than on paper. The last two losses better serve as a serious wake-up call; we all know the earlier great escapes didn't.

Next evil foe: Oh, super. The Flyers. What is it, goons and idiots week at NHL headquarters?

I'm Just a Kid

The many anachronisms that follow are completely intentional. You want accuracy go to Discovery, or the Smithsonian, or Wikipedia, or Weird Al Yankovic’s site.

What can you expect from a 20-year old? How much pressure can you put on a kid's shoulders, in the heartland of hockey, as this mad city rode shotgun with a young goalie who had barely obtained a license to drive?

Carey Price. 2o years old. Pause. Think of that for a moment.

He's done so much already, what more can we expect of this young phenom. Graduation from minors to juniors, World Junior Gold and MVP honors, Calder Cup Championship along with another MVP title, followed by a move up to the NHL and an anointment as the Canadiens' starting goaltender. He then defeats the Bruins in his first taste of NHL playoff hockey, shutting Boston out twice in the series the last one coming, incredibly, in the seventh and deciding game of the series.

It took him 18 months to accomplish all of this. He's tired now.

Montreal wanted a Stanley Cup but in the end it would be too much to ask from an overwhelmed Price.

It can’t be done at this speed. You have to mature into a certain mold before certain results may be expected from you.

Voice: BULLSHIT!

Me: What?

Carey: Huh?

Voice: I say bullshit! That’s what I said BULL-SHIT.

Me: who the hell are you?

Voice: Who the hell am I? That's some crazy talk right there. Who do you think I am?

Me: I wouldn’t have asked had I known.

Carey: This guy’s a weird one.

Voice: Requiem, The Little Music of the Night. I’m Mozart goddammit.

Me: Mozart, shit, I thought that was you! What are you doing here?

Mozart: You know, HF4, I’m getting a bit peeved at this Price was too young thing going around. What the hell?

Carey: What do you mean?

Mozart: You’re 20 Carey. You know what life expectancy was when I was around? 40-45 years tops. By the time we were 25, we would be flashing our gold cards at the movies, people would be giving up their seats on the horse carriages for us, doctors were plunging their fingers in our asses by the time we were 13. I kind of liked that.

Carey: Wolfie, I’m barely…

Mozart: Don’t call me Wolfie, it sounds gay. Where’s my pocket mirror...

Carey: Amadeus, I’m like, barely an adult. This is HOCKEY WORLD.

Me: Seriouly Zart, this is the Mecca of hockey. Like people will stop whatever they’re doing 5 times a day, turn to their welfare cheques, kneel and pray to the ghosts.

Mozart: What’s your point?

Me: My point is that you can’t expect a kid to rise to these expectations.

Carey: Yeah Wolfgang, you can’t.

Mozart: Are you guys for real? Do you know what I was up to at the age of 4? Do you have any idea? I was writing full minuets and concertos for the emperor of Austria, that’s what. I would play that shit faultlessly. And my Dad was of no help either. He made David Archuleta’s father look like Kathy Lee Gifford. Go ahead and give the Williams' father a "Dad of the Year" t-shirt! My father's name was Leopold. LEOPOLD! Is that badass or what? The man was on my ass CONSTANTLY. “Finish the sonnet or no new skirt for you!” or “write that opera before you go to bed or you can forget about seeing that movie you like – ‘I’ll be Bach’, what a stupid line”. I loved Austrian actors...

Carey: Sounds rough.

Mozart: You have no idea.

Me: Times have changed Mozart, 20 is the new 3.

Mozart: That’s my point! At 3 years old I had already completed my first full opera, which today is widely regarded as one of the best pieces in musical history. 20? At 20 I was writing life altering music that has changed the face of the world. You hear me? The face of the world. Pressure? I had an empire threaten to cut my balls if one note sounded off-key, I had to deal with the threat of exile to Cyprus. Goddamn exile.

Carey: My hand wasn’t right.

Mozart: You have to be joking. I was composing notes of genius while juggling typhoid, syphilis, the plague and a fever that would make the sun stop for a glass of lemonade.

Carey: I don’t know, Ganger, try painting something with a sore hand. It doesn’t work. Those are my tools you know, my hands.

Mozart: Don’t get me started on the painting kid. Want to talk paint? You wanna see a drawing Picasso sent me when he was 4? You wanna see genius? Look at this:

Mozart: Now that’s child prodigy material right there. Look at the lines, they're so elegant, so subtle.

Carey: What are those bugs in the sky?

Me: You don’t know the media here Mozart, they’ll hang you out to dry if…

Mozart: Oh give it a break! Try writing music that changes History while a maniac named Salieri is conspiring to have you killed, stealing your money and your compositions and shagging your wife behind your back. I thought he was my friend. “Let me help you Mozart", "You’re a genius Mozart.” Asswipe, should have seen him coming. Fucker worked me to death.

Carey: You know I didn’t totally choke. I’m proud of some of my performances.

Mozart: Price, read my lips: I was THREE YEARS OLD and stroking the ivory blindfolded, upside down, under the piano, with my hands crossed and my back turned to the keys. That’s fucking art kid. That’s child freaking genius. Try playing upside down UNDER the damn piano. Your pits are pressed up against your face and you haven’t bathed in weeks, and you’re supposed to play music that reminds people of perched canaries. What do you think of those conditions kiddo? You’re playing to the gallery, to a king, an emperor, to the entire council. They don’t like it, you’re gonzo.

Carey: I guess I don’t know what real pressure is. I guess 20 years old isn’t that young.

Mozart: Pfff! 20! At 20, we had insurance companies batting down our doors pushing life insurance policies down our throats! You hit 22, 23, nobody wants to insure you anymore.

Carey: It told them I was tired, nobody listened to me. They just listened whenever they felt like it.

Mozart: Nobody listened to you? Trying having your best buddy not HEARING A SINGLE WORD YOU SAY! I would be like, “Yo, Beethoven, how does this sound?” And he’d be all oblivious and shit. For years I thought it was just his silent, tacit approval. Talk about misleading someone.

Carey: Those pads I ordered just before the playoffs. I hadn’t even broken them in. They felt so stiff.

Mozart: Carey, I’m directing 100 musicians for 4 hours in a 103 degree opera house with no AC, the occasional paper fan to cool me off, and I’m wearing the most constricting tights you’ve ever worn, a silk blouse that breathes as much as an old firefighter with emphysema and the biggest wig you’ve ever seen, like 40 pounds of hair collapsing over my head. That’s not exactly spa-treatment like conditions bud. Pads?!! I had tights going up to my tits and socks over them that ran up to my knees. Paint them in red and white stripes and I look like a character from a Dr. Seuss book. Green eggs and symphonies. I was like baroque Matisyahu.

Me: We gotta lay off the young guy excuse, Carey. Amadeus has a point.

Mozart: Fuck yeah, I have a point.

Carey: He’s got a point.

Me: What now? What will we say? How do you explain having gone down in 5?

Carey: I don't say a thing. I can't. I’ll say that next year, no excuses. I’m going Wolfgangbusters on your asses.

Mozart: That’s it Carey.

Carey: Rock me Amadeus.

Mozart: Now you’re talking.

Me: Ok, I’ll leave you two alone.

Amadeus is right. No excuses. It’s been done before. Roy, Dryden, Ward, Tiger Woods at Augusta, Sampras at the US Open at 17. I even hear Falco was, like, 5 when he wrote that epic song.

Day 2 of Shivah

Someone make the pain go away.

HABS ELIMINATED

FHF DECLARE 3 MONTHS OF MOURNING.