Philadelphia Flyers Pregame: Cheesesteak Losers

Doug Johnson of the Puck Buddys delivers your pregame report. @PuckBuddys.

The Puck Drop: So, class, pencils down. What have we learned this weekend, hmm? Anyone? Anyone?

Well one of the things we’ve learned is that Coach Dale Hunter really isn’t like Coach Bruce Boudreau. As a player or as a coach. Yes, do we remember that? Do we also remember how Dennis Wideman got gipped out of a hat trick by some fusty clock-watchers in Toronto? Recall that? And… and another lesson; do we all remember how confusing it is to watch the Capitals play game to game? That roller-coaster – yeah, remember that? Awake one night, asleep the next? Hmmm?

It’s AH (Anno Hunteramus) 1, and so far we’re breaking even with genuinely mixed performances. A few months back, before “The Troubles“, we spanked the Flyers 5-2 in their own barn, with Hamrlik (remember when he was hot?) knocking in the GWG and Vokoun in the net. And here we are today. It’s cold, but Hamrlik is sorta hot again – or at least not cold cabbage – and Raccoon is once again starting to show a little of his elite-ness.

So, class, this Tuesday, which Capitals team do you think will show up? Hmm? Bueller?

The Naughty and Nice List, Part Deux

Oh, we can’t move forward before we distribute treats to our favored Caps! (If only…) Our Kringlelicious list starts with:

  • Sasha ^ 2

    Naughty: A first for our list, at least this one. Sasha appears to be struggling under…well, what? New coach? Excessive enigmaticness? Not enough attention from Ovi or Nicky? Alex Semin…Mr. Semin? Eyes front young man! You are daydreaming too much and need to buckle down. You don’t want to get left behind, do you? Well, do you? No, I thought not. Alex Semin gets our first-ever, totally non-creepy punishment of a lump of coal. Or a visit by Krampus, who will bundle him in a sack beating him with switches while Moors load him into a boat for oblivion. Hey, it’s not our mythology.

  • Nice: Nicky 19, again, is doing yeoman’s work, and for that gets a plate of fresh-baked Schmunikenknugen. Wideman already got our hat – which was rightly earned, NHL douches – so we’re knitting a pair of mittens for his current, or future, special lady friend. But the holiday confetti goes to John “Towelie” Carlson, who continues to dazzle, notably now under his training-wheels coach, and reminds us every game what commitment and focus really are. That, and always being handy with a towel.

What Makes Them Hot

Yap yap, the dogs have been barking that we don’t have enough inside intel on the other teams. Oh yeah? Well BOOM! We just went and got the freshest smack on the Philly Pheebs available, courtesy PuckBuddys’ senior correspondent – AND 1/2 of our Winter Classic team – Joseph. Welcome to school, boys! Click him here and be in awe… so check, and mate.

At left: Chris Pronger (out with a concussion/virus)

1: Lightning in a Bottle: So the Phlyers phlaked their way through another win Saturday, this time against the Bolts. Except it wasn’t phakery. They’re down several key players – monster Chris Pronger, adorable Brayden Schenn and now, potentially, shrimp-tastic Claude Giroux. Add to that Laperrierre (add or detract vowels as fits,) Gustafsson and Betts and you’ve got a hobbled team. AND yet, they managed to thrash Tampa. Watch out Caps: ugly Philly dogs can bite.

2: Rookie Luck: Per Joseph, rookie D-men Kevin Marshall (really not so much of a child anymore) and Marc-Andre Bourdon (isn’t that a dessert?) have been playing beyond expectations. Sure, they need to, given the crimped Flyers’ bench. But just as we celebrate Alzner and Carlson, Philly is celebrating these two dipwads, and with good reason. They have the potential to f-us up. Oh, AND Jagr – ugh – plays like he never did with us, which is to say, good. (And the f-er is hot as hell, still, which just makes us hate him even more.)

Brayden Schenn

3: Anger Bear: Joseph was too classy (another Flyers first) to say it but the Flyers have one thing going for them even more this season than previous ones: anger. Sure, everyone hates them; even, we hear, Syrian President Bashar al-Assad. Yeah, they play in toiletville for diabetic cases who can’t stuff enough toxic yellow cheese in their mouths. But…but, they are playing in this year’s Winter Classic. And against the Rangers (vomit-buckets at the ready.) There is nothing like a fight with a New Yorker to get a Philadelphian…Philadehoover?…Philajerkist?…up and on their toes. They want that Classic. And there’s no better way – if you’re sorry enough to be Philadelphia – than to beat the Caps.

What Makes Them Not

1: Ow! Owie Owie OW OW!  Oh Lord, we’re not going to take a stroll through the sick ward on the Philly bench. Let the ghouls do that. C’mon, they’re playing like the Black Knight in the Holy Grail (dork alert); limbs hacked, blood spurting. (“Bring us an shrubbery! Avery!)  They’ve got mouth, but do they have much more?

2: History. Oh, haha, look at me! I’m Newt Gingrich, and I’m a historian! Whoops, whatever, all politicians stink; it’s just the ones that open their mouths and belch out nonsense that are remembered. Over the years the Flyers may have dominated the Caps (or, in fact, they have) but – and this is my huge BUT  – they have only come 39-36 at Caps home games over the entire play. Meaning all those years we sucked and they didn’t? We’re still almost even at home. Yeah, this is a home game. Caps, you’re rockin’ the red (10-4-1) at Verizon this season. We expect that to continue.

3: Orange You Sick Yet?  OMG. RLY? SRSLY? Orange? God, the dried-up vomit along U Street on a Saturday morning looks better than those Philly orange….eeeygh. I’m getting queasy just thinking about it. LOOK Philly, we’ve taken you to task before, and you persist in coming back, like the Spanish flu. Repeat after me: “Nobody likes me. I’m a Flyers fan. My city is a vermin-infested sewer. Animals with sense flee from me. I stink like offal on a stick in the sun and smell like ass. I am a Philadelphian.”

Yeah, that’s it. Flyer trolls, go run and look up “offal” while you shove more CheezWhiz down your throat.

Meme of the Night