For Dallas, the situation seemed dire. Their record wasn't quite what they wanted it to be. So they decided. . .we are going to play well tonight. Vicious. Persistent. We aren't going to make those assholes feel like they can win this game, because they can't, because we're the Dallas fucking Stars and now that we've gotten rid of those alcoholics Modano and Marty T we have a chance to make something of this pathetic franchise. It's only November. Remember before the lockout, when we had Brett Hull and were relevant? LET'S GET THOSE DAYS BACK, IF ONLY FOR SIXTY MINUTES.
Meanwhile, the Pens were probably smoking weed. Or something. Or crying to their moms on the phone that they'd packed the wrong socks and having OCD freakouts.
It was like making your television entrance with nothing at your disposal but a Blingee'd stormtrooper helmet.
The real story of this game was the insane amount of hair points.
But there will be a post about that tomorrow.
No awards show until the Pens score a power play goal or until Mike Comrie gets credited with a goal. Whichever comes first. GENTLEMEN, IF YOU PLEASE.
Tyler Kennedy was the most consistent player in this game and occasionally had presence of mind to do things.
Sid fought a Finnish person.
Never thought you'd see the day? Us neither.
Mike Comrie is on notice for existing without our permission and being paid $500,000 to do so. Punching that puck into the net. And the fact that he had the balls to do the Potash interview after the second period. It was like they sent a lamb to slaughter so they could talk about it behind its back.
A retarded lamb.
Cruelty. Animal sacrifice. Botched goals. Penalty shots. Where will it end?
Answer: it won't until we slay the monsters.
Are they in Anaheim? Perhaps.
This season has already taken years off of our lives.
Is Loui Eriksson on your fantasy team? How about Robidas or Lehtonen? There's always an upside to everything.
. . .Maybe.