What if Alex Ovechkin Hired Randy Moss as a Life-Coach?

Randy Moss and Alexander Ovechkin walk into a bar. They sit at table and order drinks. What follows is an exact transcript of their conversation.

"Hey," says Alex, "sorry about the Super Bowl and everything."

"Thanks, man. That does hurt. But you know, I didn't ask you out because of the Supe. I wanted to say something to you I've never said to anybody else."

Alex is puzzled. He gives Randy his best rakish super-villian grin and waits.

"You know, you remind me a lot of me," Randy says.

"I didn't know you watched hockey."

"Nobody knows I do. I keep that on the DL. You know, I have a Hershey Bears sweater? Don't tell anybody, right? Anyway. I really wanted to tell you that ... well, you know how on media day I said that I was the best receiver ever?"

"Heard that."

Randy takes a deep breath, "What I meant to say was that I was the most talented receiver ever."

"I grew up in Moscow and even I know that Jerry Rice does hold the record for most receiving yards," says Alex, flashing that playful KGB grin again.

Where NFL Replacement Refs meet Gary Bettman and the NHL

The New York Times reports that many casual football fans are turned off by the mind-meltingly slow pace of NFL games due to the dithering, amateurish replacement officials. The NFL's lockout of their regular refs, it seems to me to me, presents not merely a chink in the previously impenetrable armor of the NFL, but a wee bit of a vacuum. If fans are turned off by the length and pace of NFL games, might they be inclined, I dunno, to watch something else?

It is a vacuum (however slight) that could be, and should be, filled by hockey. Hockey can easily sell itself to disenfranchised football fans. After all, both football and hockey are fast and violent, both require precise teamwork and vision, and both are sports where players sometimes do things that we ordinary mortals cannot even conceive of.

And to exploit this opening ... Gary Bettman and the NHL have engaged in a pissing contest with Donald Fehr and the NHLPA. Talk about murdering the goose that lays the golden eggs.

On Malki-Mania, Winning without Sidney Crosby and the Demise of the Washington Capitals

D'ya think Lightning net-minder Dwayne Roloson is the kind of guy who would, while on safari, poke a hungry lion with a pointy stick? Or who, despite warnings from his local, friendly apiarist, shake up a hive of honey bees while wearing nothing but shorts, flip-flops and a t-shirt? Based on his performance in Pittsburgh yesterday, I think he is just that sort of guy.

I would give this simple piece of advice to the dear Mr. Roloson:  do not poke the Russian Bear in the face like this:

15 Things to Love about the 2010-2011 Pittsburgh Penguins

With the season at a close, the bitter disappointment of losing in the playoffs lingering on our pierogi-loving palates, there is still so much to be thankful for. Its pretty easy to be a Penguins fan and I was thinking about that when I ran across Michael Farber's 20 Things to Love about Hockey at Sports Illustrated.

Here are 15 Things I loved about this past season (of course, I could make a long list of things not to love about this season, leading off with the inconsistency of the disciplinary action of the NHL, but that's for another day perhaps.)

1. 24/7. If you say you didn't love every bleeping second of '24/7' I'll dispatch Steve Downie to make a dangerous run at you (not that that would cause the NHL to suspend him, mind you.)

The HBO crews did an incredible job of filming and putting together a cohesive narrative in zero time flat. I know Pittsburgh fans hate Alex Ovechkin, but I found that he had a certain, strangely appealing rakish quality. He's really the guy I love to hate, unlike guys who I hate-hate (say Zdeno Chara or Steve Downie.) No, the hockey world is a much more entertaining one with Ovie in it. How wonderful for us that the Penguins and Capitals set up so beautifully as diametrically opposed teams. On the one hand, you've got Dan Bylsma's business cool demeanor juxtaposed against Bruce Boudreau; Ovie, with his tattooed, Eurotrash badboy thing contrasted with Sidney Crosby. The Pens franchise with three Stanley Cups and the Caps with their history as choking dogs (per Tony Kornheiser.) Thank you, hockey gods. Thank you.

2. The Build-Up to the Winter Classic. With the Winter Classic upon us, I was dispatched to the Strip District to get some 'wedding' kielbassi from S & D Polish Deli. (If you haven't had it, the wedding kielbassi is twice smoked and the best damned kielbassi I've ever had in my life. Hands down. Go. Get some. Now!) It was the usual Strip day -- T-shirt vendors all cranked up with a myriad of Winter Classic and Penguins T's available (plus lots of riffs on 'Obitchkin' and what have you), bodies jammed into PennMac, lines out the door at DeLuca's. The best part was, as Dickie Dunn might say, the spirit of the thing.

3. Sid's scoring streak. Cheesy mustache notwithstanding, that was one helluva ride. 25 games with at least one point and 26 goals in that time period. As we used to say about Mario -- Magnificent. We are lucky bunch of yinzers to get to watch this guy on a regular basis.

4. Flower Power. No question Marc-Andre Fleury struggled early. No question he lays an occasional stink bomb from time to time. But there is no single player more responsible for their heroic run to the post-season than Fleury. At times, he makes it look effortless. At other times, you marvel at his ability to change directions, get from one side of the crease to the other. The guy keeps getting better and was frankly hosed that he wasn't even a finalist for the Vezina Trophy. At least the fans got it, after the Game 7 loss to Tampa, with chants of "Fleury! Fleury!" raining down on the ice. Thanks, Pittsburgh. Thanks for getting it.

5. The win streak. Twelve is better than Eleven. I view that as a hockey koan for the ages.

6. The Penalty Kill from Hell. None were better than the Penguins penalty kill, effective 86.1% of the time in the regular season. They were so good at it that there were times, sick as I am, I was actually excited for the Pens to go on the kill. (Good thing, too, because the Pens were short-handed 324 times -- second in the NHL right behind Montreal.) Still, it was a strange thing of beauty to watch, that penalty kill -- bodies flying, men taking pucks in their faces and shoulders and feet, Fleury making impossible stops. It was like watching a two-minute version of "300." Only with more plot and better dialogue.

7. The Kids Are All Right. Testy, Conner, Jeffrey, Lovejoy and Tangradi. For a while there, the Penguins had to run a daily shuttle bus to Wilkes-Barre to replenish the troops. And the young guys, all of them, performed admirably. The best of the bunch, I think, was Ben Lovejoy. He also gave me one of my favorite moments of '24/7' with his, "we're going to find the guys who did this and, probably do nothing about it" comment.

8. Eggo laying out Colton Orr. Hypocrite much? Me? Guilty as charged. I'm not a fan of hockey fights. I think the league can and should do away with them, as well as ALL shots to the head. (I'm actually getting tired of writing about the league's need to consistently, seriously clamp down on head shots.) But I have to admit, my inner Ulf Sammuelson came out in full-throated appreciation when Deryk Engelland dropped Colton Orr like a side of beef. Night, night, Colton.

9. The Killer M's, Martin and Michalek. Ray Shero always does a good job in the off-season, but the additions of Paul Martin and Zbynek Michalek were two of his very finest signings. No way on earth do the Pens finish the season with 106 points and just miss winning their division by an eyelash without these guys.

10. The New Barn. Okay, I fess up. I like old stuff. I am a proper Pittsburgher, always suspicious of change. So I worried that the new place would be too nice, encourage too many suits, and be quieter than the old place where we could be ourselves in the rough and ramshackle, dingy but comfy atmosphere of the Igloo. But Consol is awesome. It is really loud and bright, with great sight lines and, though it is new and shiny, we're still all packed in there. And the fans are still the same fans as before. It feels broken in already -- a good thing. Plus, there's a Tim Horton's on the 200 level. Mmmmm ... donuts.

11. Mario's TV. Chicago has their hockey song (great), and Detroit has the squid (bizarre but great), but Pittsburgh has Mario's TV. I love that fans pack in to sit outside, in the shadow of the old barn, to watch the game. I love that we call it 'Mario's TV.' I love that it is representative of what Pittsburghers have long understood intuitively -- sports are no good if they are not shared experiences. If you meet somebody who doesn't love Mario's TV, tell them, "It's a Pittsburgh thing. You wouldn't understand."

12. The maturation of TK. Tyler Kennedy skates hard every shift. He has always done that. After Sid and Geno went down, it looked to me like he tried to do more. Not that he tried to do too much, but that he was doing more. He is a player who has really come into his game, understands what he can do, what he needs to do, and what his line-mates can do. It's a joy to watch a player like that.

13. Disco Dan. If this guy doesn't win the Jack Adams' Trophy, I'm going to demand on a congressional investigation. I always feel confident with Bylsma behind the bench. I'll take my chances with him any day.

14. James Neal's OT. Sure, the euphoria was short-lived, but tell me you weren't up, jumping up and down and shouting in pure, unadulterated joy when Neal sent that puck in over Dwayne Roloson's right shoulder in the second overtime of Game 4 in Tampa?
15. 2011-2012 Season. It's my thinking that the Penguins -- the guys who were able to suit up and play in the absence of Crosby and Malkin -- will be that much better next year. I think they learned about themselves and how to win without two of the best players on the planet. Assuming Sid and Geno are healthy and ready to go next year, the Penguins should be that much better, poised to make a serious run at Sir Stanley. Also, it should be fun to watch. Perhaps Timbuk 3 said it best.

See you in the fall, Puckheads.

[24/7 image from hockey-news-central.blogspot.com; Fleury image and Engelland & Orr image both from Justin K. Aller/Getty Images; Sid & Geno from Yahoo Sports.]

Caps Coach Bruce Boudreau's F-Bomb Rant from the First Epi of HBO's '24/7'

What follows is an exact transcript of Boudreau's rant delivered to his team between the 2nd and 3rd periods of the Caps December 9th game versus the Florida Panthers. The wonderful camera crews were hard at work to capture this coaching genius for the HBO series, "24/7".

Needless to say, parental discretion is advised:

Have a seat for a second. Look it, I have never seen a bunch of guys look so fucking down when something bad happens. What are you guys? Like prima donna perfect that if you can't fuckin' handle adversity? So shit's not going right. It's not fucken' working the last ten days. Fucking get your heads out of your ass and fucking make it work by outworking the opposition. You kill two fucking men, and then we stand around and watch while they fucking score here. Fucking yous come to the bench like fuckin' this and when the power play it's not working so you're trying to stick handle, you're looking like this and not standing. Outwork the fucking guys! If you want it, don't just think you want it. Go out and fucking want it. But you're not looking like you want it, you look like you're feeling sorry for yourself. And nobody fucking wants anybody that's feeling sorry for themselves. You got 20 fucking minutes. You're down by one fucking shot. Surely to fuck we can deal with this.

Now that, my friends, is motivation.

Sidney Crosby, No Hyperbole Possible

Many years ago in my epically profligate youth, I was out drinking with RJ and the Deadhead. (Sounds like a bad sitcom.) After about 37 pitchers of beer, the three of us had a rousing argument over who was the better quarterback -- Terry Bradshaw? Or Terry Bradshaw? Oh, emotions boiled over, fingers were pointed, spittle flew and I do believe that I pulled a Kruschev and banged my shoe on the table. The whole argument culminated with RJ hollering, 'You can take your Bert Jones, and you can take your Dante Pastorini, and you can shove them straight up your ass!'

I feel like I can have the same argument about Sidney Crosby. Who is a better hockey player? Sid? Or Sid? And to paraphrase my old drinking buddy, you can take your Alex Ovechkin and you can take your Steven Stamkos, and you can shove them straight up your ass!

Two years ago, Sidney Crosby was the best player in the NHL. I thought that he had arrived at his true, highest self and in so doing, carried his team to a Stanley Cup championship, personally besting the entire Philadelphia Flyers roster, then Ovie, then the Red Wings along the way. It was great. Pittsburgh fans were both lucky and appreciative. Hell, we were all on cloud nine. Or cloud 87.

Then, something crazy happened. Sid got better. I didn't actually think it was possible, and yet, he went ahead and did it.

When Sid first arrived in Pittsburgh, he was immediately one of the best players in the NHL. The most obvious strengths of his game were his vision and speed. And his soft hands. But there were holes in his game. Following that rookie year, he vowed to spend his off-season improving his face-offs. I'm not sure how a person gets better at that, but he did it. Then, despite being a point generating machine, the knock on Crosby was that he, himself, did not score enough goals. So the next year, he promptly went out and scored more. It seems like when he sets his mind to a task, he just simply achieves it. He is, quite simply, the best player in the NHL. And there is no argument to be made.

Some are enamored of laser-like wrist shots, like the one Ovie unleashes from all over the ice. If there were a way to measure talents in a vacuum, to somehow quantify just the innate, singular talent of launching a disc of vulcanized rubber towards a goalie at the speed of light, then Ovechkin has more talent that Sid. Geno Malkin probably has more. Marian Gaborik, who has one of the sneakiest, most effective shots in the game for my money, has more.

But the thing you have to factor with Sid is totality of his game -- that his game is so complete is precisely what makes him so special.

He wins faceoffs.

He plays defense.

He can see plays happening two and three seconds before they happen.

He has speed and strength and elegance.

He scores from up high, and he plants himself at the goal mouth, fight off cross-checks and buries the puck behind helpless goaltenders.

This year, he is everywhere on the ice and has scored from every spot of the Consol Center except the executive washroom.

He leads his team by example, brandishing his work-ethic and equanimity. He never gives up on a play and the team has taken on that personality, which puts him light-years ahead of everybody else. He is the greatest and I wonder, is it possible we STILL haven't seen the best he has to offer?

So, Penguins fans, who is better? Sid? Or Sid?

And we get to watch him ever night. So really, who is luckier? Pens fans? Or Pens fans?

NHL 2010 Playoffs: Capitals Eliminated by Canadiens

From True/Slant on April 29, 2010:

Ovechkin and the Capitals humiliated by the Canadiens in the first round of the NHL playoffs

Image by wfyurasko via Flickr
The reviews of the Washington Capitals’ 2010 post-season are in. They are … let’s put it this way, if the Caps post-season were a Broadway show, it would close immediately, never to be revived:

Scott Burnside at ESPN says,

"Call it heart or soul or character or whatever you want, but the Capitals don’t seem to have it. And until they find it, it’s hard to imagine there won’t be more of these shocking conclusions in the nation’s capital."


Tracee Hamilton at the Washington Post says,

"But the day before Game 7, Ovechkin skipped the optional skate. Nearly everyone else showed up. Semin was also a no-show. One might have thought he could use the practice. One might have thought his captain would tell him so. But it’s hard to lead by example when you’re not in the building. It’s a small thing, but it’s not, not in team sports."


Dan Rosen at NHL.com says

"Suffice to say, Ovechkin has not had a good last two months.

He was supposed to lead his country to a medal in Vancouver, but they fell flat against Team Canada and departed Vancouver with nothing hanging around their necks but shame. Ovechkin was also caught on video shoving a cameraperson and criticized for not being forthcoming with the English media in Vancouver.

He was supposed to lead the Capitals to the first Stanley Cup in team history, or at the very least to the Stanley Cup Final. They couldn’t make it out of the first round against a team that couldn’t even win when it had to in order to make the playoffs."

Sarah Kwak at Sports Illustrated says:

"While Halak’s performance made the upset possible, it was the team around him that made it happen. Clearing pucks around the crease, skillfully blocking shots with pressure instead of blinding screens, the Canadiens offered more evidence to support the old sports adage, “Offense wins games; defense wins championships.”

That’s what Blue Jackets forwardR.J. Umbergerwas alluding to when he called the Capitals out for their go-go style, saying, “They play the wrong way. They want to be moving all the time. They float around in their zone, looking for breakaways and odd-man rushes. … A good defensive team is going to beat them (in the playoffs). If you eliminate your turnovers and keep them off the power play, they’re going to get frustrated because they’re in their zone a lot.” Umberger’s got a future in coaching — or clairvoyance."

Hockey’s best player, Penguins captain, Sidney Crosby, hasn’t spoken about it. He’s far too dignified and polite to honk his own horn by comparison to the Great Eight (irony intended). No doubt Sid is a better person than I am, so maybe he’s not enjoying the shame and ignominy of Ovechkin, Bruce Boudreau & Company.

But I wonder, if somewhere deep inside Sid the Kid, far from the prying eyes of the media, and even his teammates, if he doesn’t have a tiny little envy monkey who is whispering, “Told you so. Told you Ovie is not the best player in hockey. Neener, neener, neener.”

I kinda hope he is.

Meanwhile, Boudreau and Ovie have to live with this gem on their resumes: A No. 1 seed had never blown a three-games-to-one lead to a No. 8 seed since the current playoff format was adopted in 1994. First time for everything, I guess.

Is anybody else enjoying this as much as I am?

NHL 2010 Playoffs: Capitals Teetering on the Brink of Elimination

From True/Slant on April 28, 2010:

Paging Mr. Ovechkin: Time to put up or shut up in the Stanley Cup Playoffs

Image by Getty Images via Daylife
Good teams win games. Great teams, teams with designs on flying championship banners over center ice, win games with power, elan and dash. And they also win ugly games when they have to.

Last night, in Game 7 of the Western Conference first round playoff with the Phoenix Coyotes, the Detroit Red Wings proved their championship mettle. Backed into a corner like a feral, dare I say it, coyote, the Wings attacked. They did what championship teams do. They scored on the power play, created opportunities on the penalty kill and crashed the net. Finally, they reached inside of the chest cavity of Ilya Bryzgalov, ripped out his heart and smashed it into terrine of coyote offal right there at center ice.

The big stars, the names we all know — Henrik Zetterberg, Nicklas Lidstrom and Pavel Datsyuk — led Detroit’s way. There’s a reason these guys are perennial all-stars who have played in the Stanley Cup Final two years in a row.

Meanwhile, over in the east, the reigning Stanley Cup champs, my Pittsburgh Penguins, crushed the hopes and dreams of the Ottawa Senators with an overtime victory in game 6 on Saturday night to move on to the second round. The Pens did that on a night when their big stars were quiet. Without Evgeni Malkin, Sidney Crosby or Marc-Andre Fleury making their typical SportsCenter highlight reel plays, Pittsburgh’s grinders picked up the slack. Matt Cooke, Pascal Dupuis and Billy Guerin (at this point in his career, Guerin has to be considered a grinder), came through in the crunch. None of those guys are household names. Well, outside of Pittsburgh.

But both games illustrate that great teams, like the Pens and the Red Wings, find a way. Sometimes it’s in the stars and sometimes it’s the role players shine. Some games are master strokes of artwork. And others are misshapen, grunting, calloused beasts of burden. But they are champs, because they can win any which way you want to play it.

Tonight, with the Washington Capitals hosting the upstart Montreal Canadiens in a deciding game 7, we’ll see if the Caps have the heart of a champion.

You can go through the line up. On paper, this may be the most talented team in hockey. (I kinda feel like those draft “experts” judging talent on paper like that. It made me all, like, tingly. Now I know what it must feel like to style Mel Kiper’s hair.) The point is – Alex Ovechkin, Mike Knuble, Brooks Laich, Alex Semin, Eric Fehr, Nicklas Backstrom — this is the time for those guys to step up. Mike Green, too.

I know that shooting the puck at Montreal’s Jaroslav Halak is like firing a b.b. gun at the Berlin Wall right now, but shoot they must. More than that, Washington needs to play ugly, create chaos in front of Halak, make him uncomfortable and disrupt his vision and timing. They need to plant themselves in front of the net and get dirty goals. It’s no fun playing in front of the net. It’s hard work and it takes a lot out of a player.

The Caps haven’t done much of that – setting up in front of the net, that is. They fired 54 shots at Halak on Monday night, nearly a shot a minute, which would be impressive, except that I counted only a dozen of those shots that came from anywhere in the vicinity of the net. Pathetic.

The Red Wings set up in front of net. They’ve gotten to two Cup finals by planting themselves in front of the opposing goalies long enough for a fan to hit the bathroom, buy a pretzel and make it back to her seat at the Joe before one of the red suited beasts are dislodged. They camp out in front of goalies. The Penguins, a team loaded with beautiful outside shooters, will crash the net when need be. Exhibit A — Matt Cooke’s two goal game on Saturday.

The Capitals have been remarkably unphysical, unwilling to park in front of the net and unwilling or unable to hit, too. The team leader in hits this series is Ovie with 20 hits in six games (a testament to him, because scoring wingers are not usually the guys laying out the biggest hits), but a pathetic reflection on the rest of the Capitals and their allergy to going to the body. Of all the Caps defensemen, Mike Green has the most hits with 14. Compare that to Brooks Orpik with 32 or Brad Stuart with 27. No wonder these guys have to play a game 7 in the first round.

The Stanley Cup playoffs is like a series of exams. If you pass the first test, your reward is to take the second test.

The Capitals, the “best” team in the East, an unstoppable force that seemed to score at will gets exam number one tonight against the Canadiens. So, what’s it going to be Mr. Ovechkin? Are you guys true contenders? Are you willing to put your heads down, hit everything that moves, muck it up in the corners for the puck, absorb cross-checks to create opportunities in front of Halak and do all the less fun, unglamorous work necessary to win?

Alexander Ovechkin Is a Douche, but You Knew That Already

It’s been a bang-up week for the Pittsburgh Penguins.

First, the new zambonis arrived at their new home, the Consol Center. Pictures of the Zambonis are here.

Then God and God, Jr., also known as Mario Lemieux and Sidney Crosby, annointed the new ice surface at the Contsol Center.

Then Max Talbot called Alexander Ovechkin a “real douche” on the radio. The fine folks at SB Nation were kind enough to type up the transcript of his comments.

As Badger Bob used to say, it’s a great day for hockey.

And Then There Was One

The Penguins-Capitals series is everything I thought it would be. Every game is a nail-biter. There are huge swings, emotional peaks and valleys in each game, not to mention the ebbs and flows throughout the series. Momentum is mercurial. Frankly, I don't think I can take anymore. During the epic Game 6 of the Penguins-Capitals series, I'm pretty sure my heart stopped. Just momentarily, but stopped nevertheless.

In the aftermath of six magnificent games, I intended penning something about the role players, the unsung contributors on each team. I was going to compose rhapsodies in honor of Pittsburgh defenseman Rob Scuderi, who has flat out robbed Ovechkin of golden opportunities again and again. (Ovie would have double the seven goals and 13 points he has in this series were it not for the unbelievable play of Scuds.) I planned to pen odes to the unexpected beauty of defenseman Mark Eaton's offensive skills. I was going to verily sing of the Capitals Brooks Laich and sing of Tom Poti. In my bed, in my head, I had half-composed a rant about Washington's Dave Steckel and the enormous pain he was causing to my Stanley Cup yearning Pittsburgh heart.

But then, that would be missing the forest for the trees. Or something like that. As great as the netminders have been, as wonderful as Nicklas Backstrom and Evgeni Malkin have been, with every passing period of hockey, I became more convinced that Sidney Crosby and Alexander Ovechkin are without peer. They are better at what they do than any two athletes in any other sport, anywhere.

My pulmonary distress occurred when Ovie unleashed a 50 foot laser of a slapshot in overtime. I have no idea how Marc-Andre Fleury tracked and caught that. I was shocked that the puck didn't simply burn through the netting of Fleury's glove, torch through the goal net, flame through the Mellon Arena boards before finally ending it's trajectory by impaling some poor bastard seated behind the net. I haven't seen a faster shot. Ever. Though Ovechkin didn't score the tying goal in the third period (that was Brooks Laich), or get the go-ahead tally (that was Viktor Kozlov), he had assists on both and Ovechkin assists aren't "lucky" assists, the kind you get because somebody scores on your shift, as happens from time to time. His mere presence creates opportunities for his linemates. His aggressiveness is unparalleled. Ovechkin's offensive drive is almost feral, his desire to score goals is rapacious.

In many ways, Ovechkin reminds me of the NFL's Earl Campbell of the Houston Oilers. When Campbell came into the league in 1978, he dominated every game the Oilers played. He was big, strong, elusive, and willing to dish out hits. He ran over, through and around everybody. For a while, he was nearly unstoppable. Then the hits, both those he absorbed and those he delivered, took their toll and his career just tailed off. But while he was at his best, he was mesmerizing.

So, too, is Ovechkin. The issue is that Ovie is occasionally too aggressive, always riding the thin edge between tough and dirty hockey. In the words of Pens play-by-play man Paul Steigerwald, there is a difference between playing to hurt and playing to injure. You can make a strong argument that he intends to injure, but I suspect that he is needlessly, selfishly and thoughtlessly reckless. Whatever the case, regardless of whether you think he's great or a punk, his talent is so prodigious, were he to play in a different era, he would be completely unrivaled.

But he plays now and Mr. Crosby has matched Alex the Great in every game, and particularly in Game 6. Simply, Sid left everything he had on the ice. Every bit of heart, soul, muscle memory, guts, determination and skill were out there, on the Mellon Arena ice in the third period as he frantically worked to tie the game, single-handedly dragging his team into overtime.

With about nine minutes left in the third period, and trailing by a point, Crosby was tireless and fearless. He came around from behind the net to try to create a scoring opportunity, if not for himself, then one of his teammates. As he tossed the puck toward net, there was a collision which he lunged headlong into. He saw it coming, but threw himself toward the crease anyway, the puck skittered wide with no Penguin there to try to grab a rebound, as Sid flew backward from the force of an unceremonious Capital elbow to the face. It didn't stop him.

Night after night, Crosby crashes in front of the net, inviting contact, willing the puck in. To tie Game 6, he batted the puck up and into Varlamov not once, not twice, not thrice, but four times, before directing the game-tying goal into the net, over Varlamov's left shoulder, with a little over four minutes left in regulation. The thing about that Crosby goal was, despite it's defiance of gravity and logic, it wasn't the most amazing thing he's done this post-season.

Both players are so great they make their teams greater. But while Ovechkin inspires through his brashness, Crosby's greatest strength may be his equanimity. His teammates know he'll always be there, steady, never quitting on play, on a game, on a series. In addition to his freakish level of skill, it marks him as a truly great, pantheon worthy player. I expect more of the same from both tonight.

Can I Get a Shot (on Net)?

It finally happened. I knew it would. I'm not sleeping well following Penguins games. Tuesday morning, I was grumpy, still cranky from the Penguins' game two loss against the Washington Capitals and grumpier still from my fitful sleep, having spent the 4:00 a.m. witching hour turning the game over, shift by shift, rather than enjoying the warm embrace of my beloved friend, sleep. I sometimes have this problem following Steelers games and it always seems to happen after a Steelers - Patriots tilt.

I don't want to even say where this thought has led me. Perhaps the utter uselessness of Evgeni Malkin and Sergei Gonchar planted this sick lump in the pit of my stomach. More likely, the Washington Caps were the culprits. Two games into the second round of the Eastern Conference playoffs, I'm seeing some unsettling similarities between the 2009 Caps and the 2001 New England Patriots, minus the cheating, of course.

The Capitals. The Patriots. Huh? Red, White and Blue. Ya follow?

Plus, both franchises have coaches I don't trust. It's hardly necessary to re-visit Bill Belichick's transgressions, but there's something I just don't like about beady-eyed Caps coach Bruce Boudreau. Perhaps it's his striking resemblance to Sidney Greenstreet in The Maltese Falcon. Every time I see him behind the bench, I can't help but say, "Now, sir. We'll talk, if you like. I'll tell you right out, I am a man who likes talking to a man who likes to talk." Who trusts Sydney Greenstreet?!

Each team has bandwagon jumping fans who never gave two hoots about "their" franchise until: the arrival of a true superstar in the case of the Caps; or the arrival of a Lombardi Trophy in the case of the Pats. Does the difference matter? Not really. Every season of my hockey viewing life up until the 2007-2008 season, the crowd noise in Washington was deafening when the Penguins went there. Of course, the noise was generated by Pittsburgh fans who took over the joint. Shameful. Now the beltway hockey neophytes all sport brand new Ovechkin jerseys as they waive purchased rather than homemade signs, and taunt inappropriately. Here's a handy tip for DC fans, don't chant "Crosby" when he's not even on the ice. Philly fans may be coarse, they may be rude, they may be jerks, but they are at least knowledgeable hockey fans. It's freaking embarrassing.

Still, the similarities don’t end there. Shift for shift, the Pens have played right there with the Caps. In fact, I'd say that they've outplayed them on a lot of shifts, so much so that they have played long stretches of the first two games planted right in front of goalie Simeon Varlamov. I think it's even fair to say that the Capitals haven't had as many opportunities as the Penguins, but when they have had them, they've capitalized (if you'll pardon the phraseology.) Just like those Patriots, they keep hanging around, hanging around, keeping it close and then, bam, one little mis-step and it's over.

These Caps seem to understand something that those Pats teams understood: it's not simply that you score, it's when you score. In the third period, the Pens went on the PP when Milan Jurcina went to the box for interfering with Malkin. Pffffft. That is just what the Pens PP did. Pfffft. And then literally, as Jurcina came out of the penalty box, Malkin was sent to the box for the stupidest case of tripping seen since the Three Stooges were still working.

That Caps Power Play? They don't piss around. Malkin hadn’t even had time to pick up a water bottle in the penalty box when Ovechkin planted the puck in the laces behind Marc-Andre Fluery four seconds in. Four seconds. You could pretty much see the life drain out of the Penguins. Except for Mr. Crosby.

Does that mean I think the Penguins are snakebit? That they are accursed, destined to suffer the same fate as our 2001 and 2004 Pittsburgh Steelers? Not by a long shot, but some things have got to change if they intend to counter-punch their way back into this series.

Not to overstate the obvious, but if you hadn’t noticed, the power play unit isn’t producing. It pains me to say this, but I have to lay a good bit of the blame for this PP pickle at the skates of Gonchar. I see Gonchar lollygagging behind the net on defense, I see him lollygagging at the point on the power play, I see him lollygagging through the neutral zone, I see him lollygagging while he dumps and chases the puck. What's that make him? A lollygagger.

I like to joke that he's a lazy communist, but the fact is, he may be too worn out to run the PP, given the fact that he plays more minutes than any other player. Monday night he played more than 27 minutes. Nobody even comes close to his on ice time, not even the magnificent Crosby. (Just as a reference, using game two's stats only, Crosby had over 22 minutes of ice time, while Bill Guerin, Brooks Orpik, Rob Scuderi and Evgeni Malkin played over 19 minutes, each. That's pretty much how it plays out regularly, so it's a fair barometer.)

Given those numbers and the fact that Gonchar is 35 years old, it's completely understandable that he's too gassed to run the PP effectively. I get it. That doesn't make the pallid power play passable, however. The Pens have been dumping and chasing and dumping and chasing. They play up against the boards and just pass around the perimeter, and pass, and pass. They generate just one or two legitimate shots on net at a time when there is just no substitute for actual, you know, shots on goal. A little urgency would be helpful.

So, there are two options. Either use Gonchar less and demand more from Scuderi, Orpik, Kris Letang, Mark Eaton and Hal Gill on their defensive shifts. Or have somebody else with more fuel in his motor out there quarterbacking the power play. (I prefer the former option because now is hardly the time to revisit the putritude of the Pens power play in Gonchar's absence earlier this season.)

The other issue is that nobody besides #87 is doing much of anything and, yes, #71, I am looking at you. Malkin's got a big time slapshot, a big time one-timer, and a big time wrister. Those shots may not quite match the the velocity of Ovechkin's lasers, but they can give you a close shave, too. He sure picked one helluva time to go into witness protection.

So this is for Geno: just because Ovechkin grew up the child of an Olympian in Moscow and you grew up in the Russian equivalent of Turtle Creek (that's pronounced ‘turtle crick’ by the locals), doesn't make him better than you. Big stars play big in big games and they don't get much bigger than this, my vodka swilling friend. So start peppering that puck on net.

Maybe Malkin and Gonchar should have a couple of shots of Smirnoff before the game? Or maybe I should. It might help my sleep.

Two Russians, a Canadian, and More Animus Than a Hockey Venue Can Hold

Two Russians and a Canadian walk into a bar ... stop me if you've heard this one before.

It just so happens that those two Russians and Canadian are the three greatest hockey players on the planet and you don't have to hail from Magnitogorsk (pop. 418,000), Moscow (pop. 8.6 million), or even Cole Harbor, Nova Scotia (pop. 88,000, for folks who like symmetry) to know that Evgeni Malkin, Alexander Ovechkin and Sidney Crosby are the greatest things on skates since Dorothy Hamill and the order in which you rank them probably depends on your zip code. The best part is that these guys are so great, you don't even have to be a puckhead to enjoy this playoff series, which has the potential to be the most exciting hockey series in decades. You know you want to see it. I know I do.

I have several friends who didn't want my Pittsburgh Penguins to have to face off against the Washington Capitals in the playoffs, perhaps hoping that somebody else would knock Alex and the DC kids out of the playoffs first. But not me. Bring it on. The skill level is astronomical, I can envision either team winning AND these guys hate each other. How great is that?

It all revolves around Ovechkin, a tremendous talent who loves the limelight as much as he likes scoring goals and who has tacitly asserted that Sid Crosby lacks, er, toughness. The result is pre-school aged children all over the metropolitan DC area asking their parents, "What's a 'pussy?'" at which the parents shudder in horror and drop their lattes while the young'ens explain that everybody (i.e., the Washington Caps) says that Sidney Crosby's a 'pussy.' I'd hazard a guess that Mr. Crosby, or should I say, Mr. Pussy, will have a few things to say about that starting on Saturday afternoon.

The bad blood started back in 2005-2006, when both Ovechkin and Crosby were rookies and Ovechkin took home the Calder Trophy (best rookie), a post-season slight that miffed Crosby at the time and probably still sticks in his craw to this day. They've been vying for post-season honors ever since: Crosby won the Hart (MVP) in 2006-2007, while Ovechkin won that same trophy last year. Of course, this year, Ovechkin and Crosby's teammate, Geno Malkin, are both finalists for the Hart (along with Pavel Datsyuk of Detroit). Ovechkin got the Art Ross Trophy (most points) for 2007-2008, meanwhile, Malkin won the Art Ross this season, an honor that the Penguins were clear they were aware of, checking the points race daily, making it a team mission to keep Malkin of Magnitogorsk in front of Ovechkin of Moscow.

Off the ice, Sid has suggested that Ovechkin has taken some "runs" at him and Malkin that border on boarding, cross the line from checking to charging. The beltway gang counters that Sid talks too much trash. I'm not a huge fan of trash talking before or after the game, but once the puck drops, gentlemen, start your vocabularies. Apparently, Sid has such a potty mouth that it offends the delicate ears of Alex the Great. Is that even possible? Really?

Hell, I love a good rivalry. Sometimes I watch sports just for the bad blood, but even I have to wonder: is Alex Ovechkin so emotionally delicate that Sid's yapping really gets under his skin and he feels compelled to disparage Crosby in order to assert his own greatness? I think Ovechkin is great and I say this as a total Pittsburgh homer, a person who hates Ovechkin, hates the Capitals and hates the Washington fans, all 79 of them, but flat out, Ovechkin's amazing. He's strong, he's got a wicked shot, he's fast, and he's surprisingly elusive. Is the bad-mouthing really necessary? I don't get it.

On the other hand, in Ovechkin's defense, he does seem to be preternaturally colorful and constitutionally suited for the role of pot-stirrer. Not to mention that it was his linemate, Alex Semin, who told Dmitry Chesnokov of Sovetsky Sport this:

"What's so special about [Crosby]? I don't see anything special there. Yes, he does skate well, has a good head, good pass. But there's nothing else. Even if you compare him to Patrick Kane from Chicago ... [Kane] is a much more interesting player. The way he moves, his deking abilities, his thinking on the ice and his anticipation of the play is so superb. I think that if you take any player, even if he is "dead wood," and start promoting him, you'll get a star. Especially if he scores 100 points. No one is going to care about anyone else. No one is going to care whether he possesses great skill. Let's say you put someone in front of the net and let him deflect pucks in, and he scored 50 goals; everyone will say "Wow!" and then hand him a $10 million per year contract. That's what they like here."

As my great-grandmother would say, okay for you Alex the Lesser.

So far we have (a) Ovechkin's apparent resentment of the media attention that Sid gets, (b) Semin horning in on that, and (c) Sid saying Ovechkin plays right up along the edges of cheap shotting.

I haven't even factored in the magnificence that is Geno Malkin, who himself would like to be known as the greatest Russian hockey player alive and doesn't like snaggle-toothed Alex muddying the waters. (Ovechkin is snaggled toothed. I have no comment on Semin's teeth.)

I expect this series to be lightning fast and give new meaning to the word physical. I'm literally bouncing off the walls in anticipation. I nearly hip-checked GearGal into the refrigerator this morning. I gave the cat a facewash. Is it time to put on the foil or am I peaking too soon?