Sens: "Well What the Hell Were We Supposed to Do?" Senators 4, Habs 2

If the Robinson family had been served an injustice in the way of time spent waiting for the long anticipated arrival of this day, all seemed forgiven at centre ice last night. And if Habs fans were afforded the luxury of reminiscing during the festivities, the Ottawa Senators made a quick point that that was then and that this was now.

As the banner bearing Robinson’s name and number took flight, you had to wonder if it gave an on-looking Jason Spezza a glimpse of what following a certain other number 19's climb to the rafters would feel like. In any case, he played as if those plans were on his mind.

In a perfectly fitting tribute that gave every Canadien the motivation and pretext to play inspired hockey for the one who helped build the mystique that surrounds this team, we were reminded that no NHLer could be unaffected by a moment of this magnitude. And so if all things remained equal and the ceremonies also heightened Ottawa’s passion for the game, the Habs were riding on wishful thinking if they hoped to punctuate this evening with a fitting conclusion.

No chance.

Although the Canadiens threw their insides at Ottawa early on, Martin Gerber turned everything aside. The Habs’ shooting gallery played the same trigger-happy game that saw them direct 52 shots at Boston’s Tim Thomas on Saturday. By the first period’s 13th minute, the Habs already had 14 shots; that made it 66 shots in their last 73 minutes of play. This time around, Montreal had nothing to show for it.

The Senators’ forwards responded in kind by giving the Habs’ defense corps fits in their own zone. They found ways to thread short passes through narrow corridors around Cristobal Huet’s crease. They found holes through the Montreal blueliners, and if the openings weren’t immediately there, they created them with incredible speed.

Talent won this game. Sure, inspiration can whip players into responsive, even eruptive states. But by nature, motivation fades and unyielding effort will come to the surface to claim the last word. By the time the Sens had made it 2-0 in the first, all residual effects of the Robinson ceremony had dried up. And Montreal was destined to play catch-up against the best team in the league.

You would expect that a perfect scenario paint a Montreal victory in extended logic of a memorable evening. These brittle hopes don’t work if the Senators are introduced into the story. Start the plotline anyway you want, but enter the Senators and it seems of late to only end one way: Sens win.

Sens win.

Hello, Larry - Sens Game Preview and Open Thread (Classy Edition)

Yes, I know I promised a return to the strippers when the Habs gave the effort. And they gave it in spades Saturday night. But this night will be too classy for me to sully it up with your tawdry desires.

Some quick and possibly classy bullet points about the game:

• In case you hadn't noticed, it's Larry Robinson Day around here (scroll down to read all the great memories from the FHF) as the Habs will retire his number 19 prior to the puck dropping. We guarantee it will be classy. Well, except for the presence of Lou Lamoriello;
• Greek Lightning has been suspended one game for instigating so he's out, with Grabs taking his spot. Someone want to tell me how Chara got off without any punishment?
• Sens are gonna be pissed after losing 3-0 to the Laffs Saturday night. Uh-oh;
• But saying that, if Habs win in regulation they would be only 3 points out of first in the Northeast! (whoa, I may be hallucinating);
  
• The Christo-Wall will get the start;
  
• Hello, Larry was a short-lived sitcom of the early 80's starring MacLean Stevenson;
  
• Michael Ryder had 13 shots against the Bruins. 13! He still didn't score;
• Chris Higgins will play despite the ankle injury from Saturday;
• Habs Inside/Out now requires you to be registered to post comments without moderation. Welcome to all of you who want to comment but are too lazy to go through that crap. Normally we have strippers, snark, and swearing, but we're taking the fucking high road tonight in honour of Larry.
  

Let's hear your classy pre-game and game thoughts in the comments.

Eye to Eye With a 4-Year Old

There we were, face to face, eye to eye, both standing roughly six feet, four inches tall. He was a four-time Stanley Cup winner. I was about four years old. He shook my little hand. Perched atop my father's shoulders, I couldn't have been more star struck, left in awe of the red-bearded giant, his clasp on my fingers, bestowing upon me the title of Coolest Kid in pre-school...for a day.

Of course, this all started with my mom noticing Larry Robinson exiting the Montreal Forum from that oft-cluttered side entrance on DeMaisonneuve Boulevard. As he began his dash across the street towards the nearby parking lot (can you believe it? in those days the players parked in public lots, among the fans and their beaten Chevys!), my mother yelled out her yearning "Larry! I love you". My father, showing encouraging enthusiasm rather than disconcerted jealousy, turned towards one of my boyhood heroes (the other was Ken Dryden) and did what any great dad is put on this earth for: he harnessed me over his shoulders and took me to my idol.

My mom may or may not have had sex with Larry Robinson that day, and that isn't the point of this story. What I will remember though is that he took the time to say hi, to flash a smile that makes a kid's day and stores the moment wherever the brain loads immortality. He even amused me by asking a few questions that I was probably too nervous to answer coherently. Larry could have acknowledged my parents from afar and gone his merry way. But he didn't. He took the time and made it a Moment in my life. Something too few fans can appreciate today in a world of parking lots tucked away, deep beneath these colorless corporate arenas, over-sized Hummers with tinted glasses and a disinterest among millionaire players that leaves the kids void of athletes to really love and know.

To all of you Habs, take the time, sign the cards, smile at the kids. You were once in their little shoes, with your outstretched arms holding your hockey cards and felt pens, waiting, waiting, for a glimpse.

Thanks Larry for going beyond the call of duty, on that afternoon, and as the forever owner of the number 19.

Larry Robinson or Bobby Orr?

Look, I know Bobby Orr was the greatest offensive D ever, don't scream at me for comparing them. But Larry was an offensive machine as well, with highlight goals and QB'ing the PP with pinpoint passes. Watch this and tell me otherwise:



Big Bird could play offence. During his prime (the 4 straight Cups in the late 70's) he averaged about a point per game. He was even regenerated and re-energized in 1985-86 and came up with an 82-point season. I know Habs forwards who would kill for that now.

208 - 750 - 958 in 1358 career games. Not bad for a guy who dominted in his own end.

Oh and BTW, that goal above was scored in Game 5 of the Finals. He thrived under pressure.

Larry Ends the Reign of "The Hammer"

So as TMS noted, tonight is the LONG OVERDUE (screw you, Savard, Houle and Corey) raising of Larry Robinson's number 19 to the rafters. As a dominating presence for almost twenty years, the Big Bird had a number of memorable moments. He scored fantastic goals, laid out ferocious hits, and had a leadership role in six Cups. However, perhaps his greatest contribution to the game of hockey was the hand he had in destroying the rep and the aura around one Dave "The Hammer" Schultz and his thug teammates on the mid-70's Flyers.

Now I make no secret of the fact that I consider the Bob Clarke-lead Flyers of the 70's the absolute low point of NHL history. That gang of cheap-shot artists, goons and animals were an embarrassment who ran roughshod over skilled teams and battered their way to two Cups. They spawned cementhead teams like the Jonathan/Weinsink Bruins, they turned an exhibition against the Red Army into a farce with their tactics, and they brutalized stars like Lafleur, Perreault, Potvin and Salming. But then came Robinson.

The Flyers and Habs were waging war at the Forum when a brawl broke out. Ordinarily this ended badly for whomever the Flyers were up against, and ended horribly for the unlucky victim in the clutches of The Hammer. As you will see, that night Schultz is looking for a dance partner and tries to engage a Hab already grappling with another Flyer. Enter Big Bird.



Robinson wasn't known for dropping the gloves, but was certainly a capable fighter. He took on the most feared man in the game that night, and while he didn't destroy Schultz the way some apochryphal versions of the tale tell it, he certainly won the fight and effectively ended the Hammer's legend as an invincible destroyer of men. Larry and the Habs stole the Flyers lunch money that day, made them human and showed the rest of the league that speed, skill, and the willingness to stand up to the neighbourhood bully would work. The Habs started their run of four straight Cups that spring: the Flyers remained in contention but their brand of street fighting on skates hasn't won them a Cup since. Robinson's rep as a fighter became so great that for the rest of his career he merely had to glare and point his finger at someone and they would cower behind the linesman.

Here's to a long overdue honour, Larry. You had a hand in ending the NHL's Era of Thuggery. Everyone but the Bob Clarke Appreciation Club and the City of Philadelphia thanks you.

Today's Game Day Skate is brought to you by Big Bird, the number 19 and the letter A

Larry Robinson's #19 gets lifted to the rafters tonight before the Sens game. It's about fucking time (thanks for nothing Savard / Houle / Corey). TMS thinks he was one of the Top 5 D ever. The ultimate combo of defense, offense, size, hitting, fighting, everything.

Check back throughout the day as the FHF brings you their big memories of Big Bird. TMS starts it off with the hit that literally broke the boards: