The Pregame: Strap in, ladies, because here we go. Good news and bad news. And you know which doesn’t come with fancy French nibbles. Radishes for you.
Ugh, here’s the bad. Over the next five+ weeks, 20 nights, every one of you will be simmered into a jersey jelly of slimy aspic. Demi-glacé, oui? You get it: a trebling, molten slop of hope and desire and fear and torment, exactly as smelly as that sounds, and with no escape possible, all watching on the stovetop that is the Capitals’ next 20 games. Stupid French chefs.
Think about that: 20 deals from the deck and you’re done. (Mopping sweat from brow…)
That’s the unending horror story that Uncle Ted, GMGM, Coach Hunter and the rest have lead us into. The Caps squad that you see – with every single flaw (some over-emphasized, we think) – is exactly the one we will watch, every night, jaws clenched and tweets angry, 20 times until the chosen few cross over to the Promised Land.
The good news: we’re released from our sentence in early April. Ha ha! We totes get that isn’t a release, but just a cruel, cruel bobble dangled in front of us. I mean: if we were serious, wouldn’t we have traded players? Umm…
Hot or Not, Puck Drop, and a Burrito Toss
If I could eat my own red carpet I would not ever again see the Islanders, or have to hear about the greatest real estate con in the history of forever, the swindling of Manhattan for trinkets and geegaws, ever. News Bulletin: Long Island Still Sucks. We’ve tangled with them before…as in, before we had to go get the crabs shampoo…and we’ve still come out on top.
- We Can’t Win For Losing: meaning they stink. Look, we’re not at all happy about the benching of Knuble (Knights reside here) nor what looked like the ultimate release of Hamrlik (although he’s so not getting Valentine from Dale) or Vokoun or Wides. Dumb, dumb and dumb. We’ve got the guys that we have. Coach Dale’s style hasn’t gelled well here in DC – not, we say, because of the quality of the players, but because of the import of one style onto another.
- HEADLINE: Caps Have Quality Lines. Except Dale doesn’t foster it. Here, we’re saying it: Dale Hunter is a wrong match for what the Capitals need. Come punch us in the face if you dare.
- Sound, Fury, Signifying Nothing. We get it: Just what the flip has happened to our Capitals over the last 18 months? Lord Love a Duck, it’s just excuse me and pardon me and oops if you please and gosh may I…this is not the Capitals squad that we all know. Our story: boy with hopes grows up, takes dashes at authority…and then becomes enforcer of conventional wisdom. Coach: you are not playing to your team’s strengths. Stop what you are doing and do something else. Or trade yourself.
- Perspective, My Son: So enough of all your silly data and statistics. It really comes down to how you look at things. Pick something at random – say, your dinner tonight. Ours is cassoulet. Yummy delish warming meal, or flatulence landslide? That’s sorta what things come down to: how do you see the winning aspects and play them up, or dwell on the backside.
Coach Boudreau: seeing the winning upside. Coach Hunter: seeing the losses.We don’t speak for RMNB, or even ourselves at times in the PuckBuddys house. But here’s what we know: we believe in the quality of these Caps players. We know you’re not playing as a team. We expect it’s because higher authorities are telling you what sort of team you should be, rather than what you are.
Oh, that. Caps win. Third win in a row. Islanders weep in their Long Island Iced Teas. The Islanders do not deserve a full preview or PuckBuddys treatment. They are, in the end, the worst team from the worst place in America. The Islanders define stink.
Okposo? Tavares? Moulson and Harmonic? We’re so not even looking your way tonight.
We are saving what’s important for what’s coming up. Tonight: Caps beat Fishsticks. Eat that with your slices of humble pie.