Heeeeeere’s Doug Johnson of PuckBuddys fame. Tweet his face.

The Pre-Game: I think it was Benjamin Disraeli who said “Sometimes cities just suck.” Or maybe it was Don Rickles. We’re getting our historical figures mixed up.

Look, there’s nothing that stinks about San Diego, the actual place. It’s lovely. Or Phoenix, for that matter, if it weren’t for all the whack-a-doodles. Vancouver: now there’s a dandy city for you! If you can just get over all the residents piously reminding you just precisely how dandy it is.

On the other end, there are places like Mogadishu, a city that, I can comfortably assure you, sucks. Or vacation paradise Pripyat!  – home to the entombed Chernobyl perpetual light bulb. Pyongyang. Philadelphia.

Then we come to the middle ground: decent places inhabited by truly awful organizations. Pittsburgh comes to mind. Hoorah, it’s beautiful and their food isn’t too toxic and the local rumor is that there’s even a museum or something. But it’s also home to the rat burrow of unctuous fink Richard Mellon Scaife and his poisonous heirs, and the ‘Terrible Towel’, which we rank as only just below Scaife as scabes-inducing. The Pittsburgh Penguins… and Dan Bylsma. Think about that for a moment: both the Penguins AND Bylsma (and his douche-hat) compressed into one geographic point. That single distinction alone  is enough to push Pittsburgh to new title holder: Epicenter of Suck.

The Puck Drop

Every game matters. Pens games matter more. This game matters very much more.

Unless you’re living in a cave on Mars with your fingers in your ears, or are Alex Ovechkin,you understand that the swap of Coach Mustard for Coach Hunter has scrambled the Capitals squad at an inopportune time. Yes, everyone wants to be on their best behavior for the new teacher (was that a goal, Nicky?), and no, everyone clearly still does not understand what their role is on the ice (*coughWidemancough*), and whoops!, now all of a sudden players are actually expected to perform or else. (Don’t ask who or what.)

But this is not the time for scrambling. It is the time for righteous beatdowns of those self-entitled prigs in Pittsburgh. But are we ready? Ugh, I cannot believe I have to write this next section.

What Makes them Hot

Jordan Staal

1: Don’t Make Me Do This: A bunch of stuff. Players, mostly. Jordan Staal (12G 6A, plus-4), hatched somewhere in Canada, continues to prove the cynical criminality of the Staal breeding experiment. Shut out against the Rangers, and a little dry of late, he’s still a damn hard skater, one who rarely gives up and is quick to take advantage of weak defense (ruh-roh.) James Neal (14G 11A, minus-1) and vampire Kris Letang (3G 16A, plus-5) are also showing their mettle. We say vampire given Letang’s punishment from the Habs’ Max Pacioretty last Saturday, only to rise from the dead to score the GWG. Vampire or zombie? Let’s let his hair be the judge. Add to that Pascal Dupuis, Tyler Kennedy and a raft of other flightless birds that are just messing things up. They clearly command play in their zone and at the other end of the blue line, which gives us pause.

Nobody in particular

2: Really! I Can’t Do This!  Self-appointed Captain of the whiners, Sidney Crosby, is once more up to his soulless robotic ways. Scoring, hitting, scoring, smiling vacantly for the cameras. There is not enough room in Heaven or on this Earth to heap enough scorn on Sidney Crosby and his media-whoring ways. Unfortunately, on this plane of existence we need to contain him on the ice.

Hero-coach Hunter squired squads against Crosby in the early days, meaning a few years ago. “We had to put a checking line against him and pay special attention – he still scored points and goals — we limited him, anyways,” Hunter said this week.

Solution? Remember what teams did two years ago once they had to face the Ovech-ka-juggarnaut? They swarmed and gobbled him up. Gobble up Sidney Crosby this Thursday, Capitals. Unwrap him, devour him, and throw what’s left into an acid bath.

Dan Bylsma

3: For the Love of God, Please Stop! No! There is no amount of torture that will force me to admit that Dan Bylsma is a decent coach. I mean: hardly a decent human being. Like Coach Boudreau said a while back, can you really imagine Coach Douche-Hat “playing” with anyone, let alone his offspring, during the holidays? Nice staged photo op, jerk. How about you use everyone else in your life as a prop for your own mealy-mouthed self-aggrandizement? Oh wait! You’re doing the Movember thing? Really? Moustaches around the nation have done great work for raising money. But no moustache has spoken truer than that spiral cut ham rotting on Bylsma’s lip. Quoting: “Dan Bylsma’s moustache to world: ‘I hate you, and am cutting myself off from all human contact.’”

Yet he keeps winning, and keeping his stars in check. Why is there no moustache justice in this world?

What Makes Them Not

1: We Got a Warning Light. The Fetid Stink Birds have allowed only 63 goals this season, compared with our 75. Their win percentage is better, their players are performing while ours are floundering. So what’ the ‘Not’ here?

Crosby @ MSG (Photo: Reuters)

Let the H8trs rip me up, but I’m not convinced Pittsburgh is much more than a well-oiled one-trick machine. There’s no juggling like we’ve had, or locker-room turmoil (that we know of), or serious disruptions. But they’re still only a few games ahead of the Caps. This isn’t whistling past the graveyard, but acknowledgment of a truth that seems to have gotten lost lately: the Caps, almost entirely from head to tail, are the best NHL collection of talent in the last decade. Maybe not this game, or the next, but quality is going to start to shine through. As we’ve seen before, the Penguins will rise, then fall, then settle into meh; I believe they’re already showing signs of this now by their play. If I were a bookie in Vegas, I would see the warning light flashing from Pittsburgh, and adjust accordingly.

2: We Got a Red Alert. Think back to the days when the Caps would ‘get up’ for the big game. OK…I’ll give you a moment.

There! Got it? When they played like the Caps of 2009? When everyone on the bench would perform, swarming in the Dzone, crashing the net in theirs? Good…hold that image in your mind. With the exception of the newish Caps (and not all of them, as we think Halpy has been up and on his toes from the very start), our team remembers that, too. That’s the image they’re holding in their minds. That’s the visualization of performance they’re seeing and reliving.

James Neal

There’s no game bigger than this, and they know it’s happening in front of their loyal hometown. There’s no need to spur us – the team or the fans – to Unleash the Fury this game, as it begins fury unleashed, and only gets uglier from there. Red Rally Balloon? Rock the Red? It’s a Red Town Thursday, and we’re here to eat Pittsburgh’s lunch and steal their cookie.

3: We Got a Time Bomb Ticking. Dumptruck Arron Asham decided to give our Jay Beagle a pounding he wouldn’t forget. Or would, apparently if Asham had his way. As in: men with concussions don’t really remember what happened to them in the first place. In our book Arron Asham is no better than a drunk driver. No, he’s worse, actually: someone supposedly in control of his facilities (or what passes for them) who intentionally chooses to send a man to the hospital with a swollen brain injury. Nice going, Asham.

Beagle may not remember, but we do. Asham: you are a horrible human. We are watching you. There’s a timebomb ticking… and you’re not going to like it when it goes off.

The OT Shoot Out: Of all things that gave us heart this week, it was GMGM’s quick dismissal of Swedish star Mattias Sjögren. Apparently unsatisfied with Hershy Bear’s play, he sulked back to Sverige this week, fuming that he wasn’t getting enough NHL play. McPhee’s response: in a word, go. If you’re quitting on us, go. Begone. Away with you.

This, even more than Boudreau’s dismissal, has given us heart that the head office is in this to win it.

The games begin Thursday at Verizon. Come be with us to cheer on the Caps.

And remember, Pittsburgh:tick-tick-tick-tick…

Editor’s note: Download and print out some DALE signs. Like a billion of em. Make it rain like Newsies.

A time machine.

Doug Johnson of Puck Buddys writes for Russian Machine. Tweet at them anon.

We had too much to dream last night. Blame the cough syrup. Either that or this stuff really did happen. We’ve got dazed and confused recollections of hotwiring a hockey time machine, tripping back to the past and then ahead to the future.  We saw Gordie Howe play (when men were men), Steve Yzerman (when he was hot), and the Great One (when mullets were cool).  We took in a few Penguins games of yore (when a young Sidney Crosby taught us all how to laugh) and even dialed it back further to when Bruce Boudreau was slim …mer. Go Fort Wayne Komets!

Before dropping the contraption back off back at RMNBHQ (with a full tank), we bounced ahead to Friday morning to see how tomorrow’s game against the Pens turned out.  So this is in effect a pre-review, we promise only a few spoilers. If Thursday’s game doesn’t go as we witnessed it, that’s because Chris has been screwing with the space-time continuum-thingie again. Ugh, kids.

Friday morning, 8am. Despite the drizzle, we’re feeling happy. Another Caps win, another game with too much drama, but hey, a win’s a win. Right from the get-go, Coach Douche-hat, AKA Dan Bylsma, pushed his squad hard– getting over their tarring by the Edminton Oilers the other night and sustaining the intensity of their 4-2 win over the Panthers. They were a little full of themselves after beating down the Cats without their star players of Malkin and Crosby. Bylsma is reaching deep to get a robust squad on the ice– Sidney is still sporting his “Please Don’t Hit Me” pin (pissing off Jeremy Roenick), and Geno remained sidelined with “soreness,” whatever that is. What is it exactly with Eastern Europeans and their sensitive groins? Nevermind. We thought we shipped our groin problems to the Avs. Regardless, the Pens fire well even when without their top-shelf talent.

Kris Letang

There were a number of standouts, though.  Among them were 6-foot-nothing defenseman Kris Letang, too hot for hockey by half, and clearly hot on the ice of late. The Montreal native was young enough (25) and skilled enough to challenge our boys. “Lefang” has also spent his entire NHL career as a Penguin… which sorta explains our abject dislike for him. Also on defense were chief Pens Pests, Brooks Orpik and Matt Niskanen. Orpik continues to be irritating, and Niskanen was every bit deserving of the few attending Caps fans chanting, “F— you, Matt.” [Ed. Note: Get well soon, Geno. But F-- you still.]

Tyler Kennedy

On offense (as if everything about this team isn’t already offensive) we zeroed in on three players: Chris Kunitz (21 points in Scrabble), James Neal, and Tyler Kennedy.  None are really considered major stand-outs, but all have proven up to the task of filling in while the top-dollar skaters are recuperating.  If we have one message from the future, it would be this: watch out for Kunitz, Neal, and Kennedy.  Which sounds like the ambulance-chasing law firm that Bill Shatner pimps during “Judge Judy.”

Jordan Staal

Which brings us to some Pens we like the least: Jordan Staal and Matt Cooke. Staal is just one of the many bunnies produced at Canada’s fertile Staal Farms, but somehow the most annoying of the bunch. He proved as dangerous to the Caps as litter-mate Eric proved a few nights back. Or was it Eric last night and Jordan earlier? Who can tell – they all look the same: twitchy, blonde, and pink, beady rabbit eyes. 23 and sporting the “A”, the 220-lbs Staal showed his worth against the Flames, the Panthers, and again against the Caps. Whatever type of Bunny Chow they’re feeding them up in Thunder Bay, we want in on that trough.

Beyond Staal is Irritant #1: Matt Cooke. If Iran wanted to hire a hitman to ice that Saudi diplo dude, why not contract with Matt Cooke? The Pens felon has so far evaded Shanahan’s wrath this season, so giving him a kill team gig makes complete sense. On any given night, Cooke makes Slasha Sasha look like a demure choirboy. On Thursday, Matt dished out low blows and high hits like Don Cherry serves up incoherent ramblings. Unfortunately, Cookie the Anger Penguin also dishes out the puck to the twine, leading to drama.

In the end, our boys rose to the Penguin challenge and Thursday night looked like playoff hockey (not typical Caps playoff, you know; the good kind. The kind that makes us happy, not catatonic). The bigger problem is what happens when Crosby and Malkin return, quite possibly in time for the next match up at the Booth on December 1. But the future is the future, the past is slightly messed up, and we’ve got other fish thugs to fry before then– like the Flyers, just one week away.

Is it October yet? Holy crap, yes it is. And like Dippin’ Dots, we swearing off cough syrup forever.

Photo credit: Ethan Miller

Wednesday was a night of hardware in the NHL as the league’s annual awards show took place in Las Vegas. The night’s biggest winners? Corey Perry of the Ducks picked up the Hart, Ryan Kesler of the Canucks hoisted the Selke, baby-faced Jeff Skinner of the ‘Canes took home the Calder, Stanley Cup champion Bruin Tim Thomas won the Vezina and Washington fan favorite Disco Dan Bylsma of the Pens presented with the Jack Adams Award.

So how did the Capitals fare?

Alex Ovechkin was named to the NHL’s second all-star team while John Carlson was honored with a spot on the all-rookie squad. Via Nate Ewell, this is the first time in five years Ovechkin has not held a spot on the first-team, ending his record streak to start a career.

As for the trophies, Brooks Laich finished 11th in Selke voting as best defensive forward (0 first-place votes, 1 second, 2 third, 4 fourth, 7 fifth); Bruce Boudreau placed sixth for the Jack Adams as top coach (2-3-7); Carlson (3-3-16-12-21) and Michal Neuvirth (0-0-0-1-1) were fifth and 14th respectively for the Calder as best rookie; George McPhee finished sixth for GM of the Year (2-4-3); Mike Green was edged out by the Kings’ Dustin Brown for the NHL Foundation Player Award for charitable work; finally, Ovechkin came in 15th for the Hart as MVP (0-0-0-4-7).

Sadly, none of the Capitals were in Vegas leaving us unable to critique their red carpet photos. Yes, none of this this year. No awkward tension between Sid the Kid and the Great Eight either, though Bobby Ryan and Ryan Getzlaf filled the void. Since everybody loves “comedian” Jay Mohr, we leave you with one of his few funny moments of the night.