Front page of today's Washington Post
This is the part where I say something self-effacing, like, “Hah, well, we can’t expect another lucky break,” or “I say, that was a good effort and an implausible series, eh wot?” (for some reason I am imagining these in a British accent). But I can’t really muster that up. Instead, I’m feeling something more along the lines of
Which is an approximate representation of my feelings after the game. My friend, with whom I was watching the game, had to follow me onto the quad with my shoes, screaming that I had forgotten them (in between screaming “WE WOOOOOOOOOOOOON!!!!!!”).
Then I made everyone go to Dunkin Donuts so we could get some Boston Brewin’ (graceful in victory? I never.) and received some delightful texts, such as “Bruins in 9,” which was a response to the fact that I never wavered from my “Bruins in 5″ prediction.
The OT winning goal (what a heart attack phrase!) was scored by: Joel Ward. You know, the Predators playoff hero whom we signed to a long(ish) and expensive(ish) contract after his stellar play in the postseason last year. He hadn’t impressed us… so far. Now he scores the most important goal so far this season. (Want to read something that will make you feel truly awful about humanity? Check out the classy reactions of the hockey fan world to this goal. It’s not just Boston that’s full of racists — it’s everywhere!) (Now, to make you feel better after that, why not listen to radio guy John Walton’s call? Don’t worry, it incorporates the phrase “GOOD MORNING, GOOD AFTERNOON, AND GOOD NIGHT, BOSTON!” which I think must be his catchphrase.)
The primary assist went to Michael Rudolph Knuble — and if you don’t know how I feel about him, you probably haven’t been a longtime reader. Shame on you!
But the big name, the one to whom we owe this entire series success, is no surprise. Braden expletive deleted Holtby. What a netminder. What a beauty. He held us together through this entire ordeal, and this game wasn’t a cakewalk. He put up with some weirdo stuff, like Rich Peverley taking a baseball swing at his head, and maintained his sass and gloveliness the whole time. (Delightful article on him by The Goalie Guild that incorporates the phrase “goalie swagger,” like all great pieces of writing should).
With that done, let’s look towards the future: there are a bunch of options for who we will face next round, and by a bunch I mean: the Rangers, or the Flyers, or the Panthers, depending on how Thursday’s games pan out. Ahem…
If the Rangers win, that’s who we play. If the Senators win, we play the Panthers (if they win) or the Flyers (if the Devils win). Personally, I won’t be sad to see the Rangers — Hank’s weakness has always been high glove side, and the last Game 7 we won was against them — but the Panthers have their potential as well (we’ve already seen them, what, 1600 times this year?). I personally believe that the Rangers and Devils will win, because two nights ago I dreamt that Marty Brodeur and Ilya Bryzgalov were swing dancing together, and if that’s not a premonition, I don’t know what is.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have an email to send my favorite professor. I think it will read something like this: