The Canadiens lost a tight one in New York, falling 2-1 to a revitalized Rangers team, and now it’s gonna take six games instead of five to dispatch these NY bastards to the nearest golf course.
I want these guys gone. I’m tired of Zuccarello and Kreider and McDonagh and Nash and the lousy cop anthem singers. Tired of all things Rangers. Let me be the first to say good riddance after the Canadiens put the hammer down on Thursday and Saturday.
Nash ran Price, and how beautiful it would’ve been to see Weber send the big Rangers’ nose and several chiclets into the upper deck. Kreider’s been a bum but he remains despicable regardless. Zuccarello, waving his stick that would be too big for Mike McCarron, needs to be scalped by Steve Ott.
The little bugger might have the longest stick on his team. Maybe he’d be better if he cut a foot or so off it. Maybe he’s never thought of it.
Their goaltender, Henny Lunny, the one who embarrasses teammates for all to see after they make a mistake like not getting him a stick during the play, can’t always be so lucky to have a puck hit his stick that’s laying on the ice, and have the biscuit scoot safely away.
And of course there was that Shea Weber missile that clanged off the iron late in the game. Henny was full of it on this night.
The Canadiens will pull their pants up Thursday in Montreal, and finish it back on Broadway. Then the New Yorkers, including the anthem singers, can take in some Bronx and Queens baseball and not be back on my TV until next fall.
Turnovers played a role in the Habs falling short. Name a defenceman – he turned it over. All of them. Most flagrant was Andrei Markov letting a puck at the backboards carom off his skate and straight out to Jesper Fast, who banged it home.
But still in the first period, Torrey Michell converted a Radu to Mitchell to Weber to Mitchell, shortly after a Radu penalty was over, the game was suddenly tied, and visions of a 3-1 series lead danced in my head.
Sadly, not only did New York dominate the second period, a goal from that Nash fellow put the team ahead, and try as Montreal might in the third, especially in the dying moments, they weren’t able to light the lamp, and the series is again tied.
Playoff hockey isn’t for the faint of heart. Thunderous hits, chirping, bleeding faces, sore noses. And that’s just in my living room. The play on the ice was almost as bad.
And as exciting as this series has been, I want it over in six games. Speaking for myself, of course.
Maybe you want seven games. Maybe you’re not as sick of Zuccarella and Henny and Nash and those dudes as I am. But I think you are.
Big game on Thursday. Huge.