Hellz yeah, keepin' the potential home ice advantage.
PH Staff took a by night last night, to deal with various life emergencies. However, we both were lucky enough to catch (most of) the game, and good for us, because it was pretty motivational.
While there's no definite word on Sid yet, we're looking forward to wrapping this season up and getting into the playoffs. Hopefully this season will go out like a lamb, and we can win the Cup without too many people trying to make a fuss about being in our way.
We'll bbl with real content. We love all ya'all and hope you're enjoying the end of the season.
The Pens...every time they shoudn't, they do, every time they can't, they can, and every time they'll only win if hell freezes over, Hitler gets a sweater.
Fun fact: I just spit up all over myself.
There are really three shining moments worth mentioning in this game. We shall call them the PH Triad of Love.
The first is the hot date that Lecavalier had with Letang in the first period that led to St. Louis' beautifully shot game-winning goal.
Kris thought it was going to be an innocent dinner and a movie, but Lecavalier drove him straight up to the Plaza Hotel, took him up to the Royal Plaza Suite, and raped the shit out of him with a crowbar in the master bedroom.
This was a distraction so that St. Louis could find the goal.
It became exponentially easier for him to do so.
Blame rectal bleeding.
Photobomb of the century in the upper right. Who is this woman? Can she be our mom? Maybe James Neal's mom, since clearly he needs some motivation in life according to 99% of Pens fans.
DIG YOURSELF OUT OF THAT HOLE JAMES NEAL
Moment #2 in the Triad was when TK tried to fight Hedman but Hedman didn't understand the universe:
Moment #3 was when Rupp scored. It was ignored by the press, in favor of this:
Which is, incidentally, what you get when the three parts of the Triad unite.
Brother Steven rolling around in the snow with Marc-Andre, there are no cares in the world, no penalties, no reality.
Just the joy of spring.
No really, this is exactly what happened.
Pens lose, 2-1
Can't wait to see a 7-game series against anyone, really.
P.S. Somebody please do something about the power play.
What a bag of sweaty balls.
While we're sick of having to win everything in a SO, we'd rather have that then just getting our faced pushed into the ground by the likes of Philadelphia.
Brb while I go burn this city to the ground.
MOMENT YOU THREW YOUR PANTIES ON THE ICE AND STARTED PICKING NAMES
The beginning of the game was indicative of a good, strong hockey game taking place this evening. It was fast and sharp, and the Pens were controlling play pretty easily.
And then, after you'd bitten your nails down to the point of cannibalism, Kovie picks up a delicious apple turnover, sits and enjoys it for an excruciating amount of time, and then sinks the leftovers right into the net.
He celebrates the increased surplus of sex-
And then cements his dominance by planting a seed of love directly inside of Ville Leino-
Check back in 20 years and there will be a majestic tree.
LEAST FORGIVENESS AFFORDED FOR A ONCE-PRETTY-SEXY EYE INJURY
We don't admit such things often, but there is a slight chance a member of PH staff once had lunch with a certain Mr. Coburn at training camp and said very little to him and squeaked loudly when their knees "accidentally" touched as she got up to hide in a corner and text all of her friends about the experience. Maybe there is an odd weakness for eye injuries.
Who are you to judge?
However, certain things can be forgotten when an unlucky bounce somehow makes this individual the recipient of a point against our team.
This time when we say "no more lunches" we mean it.
Celebrating a shot like this is like celebrating beating an Angry Birds level when your dog licked your iPhone screen.
Get punched in the face a few times and you may earn some more forgiveness. But not now.
ODDEST UNEXTINGUISHABLE FIRE
Our president is seriously uncontrollably recently.
We have to admit a little shock.
But a whole bunch more sexual excitedness.
MOMENT YOU THOUGHT YOU KNEW WHAT WAS UP
Hartnell is an asshole and puts one in the net, following it up immediately with some really gentlemanly work around the net.
But you understand this now. It's 2-2, we'll be going to the third soon, so we'll get out slightly ahead, or with a tie and have to finish up in OT or the SO.
MOMENTS YOU REALIZED YOU WERE WRONG
And unfortunately, that was all.
Individual awards and alternative three stars are canceled due to general ball suckage of the game and lateness of this post, though we would like to give this photo mad props:
Get yours, Rupp.
So we're officially behindbehind the Flyers. But things have been better and things have been worse, and we're still pretty pleased with the way the team has been truckin' through this season. We're not going to complain, because things could be so much worse.
Get some sleep.
CLICK HERE for an up-to-date table of Hair League points by player.
Philly game tonight is the biggest game of the season, but if you didn't know that you haven't been paying nearly enough attention.
Via our friend Liz:
what on fucking earth
Tonight, the Pens had to be rescued by Prince Neal again, straight from the very cracks in space and time that some say lead to hell.
We did not weep, we did not lament.
We transcended dimensionality, and beat Martin Brodeur in the shootout.
Marc-Andre Fleury has a shutout for four straight years on March 25th.
We actually have a few questions about that, but something tells us that the Shadow Proclamation will stand in our way. What do you think, David Tennant?
right. We better not ask.
(AND BEFORE YOU GET PISSED AT THE REFERENCES FROM COMPLETELY DIFFERENT SEASONS, PLEASE REMEMBER THAT WE ARE TRANSCENDING SPACE AND TIME HERE)
And before you get confused and annoyed with all of the Doctor Who references, let's move back to something we all relate to:
Omarion, former lead singer of B2K.
Every time Steigerwald mentioned Nick Palmieri, I thought he was talking about Omarion.
File photo: Nick Palmieri, clearly not Omarion
I am absolutely not shitting you when I say that very little occurred all game. Power plays were awful. Penalty kills were astounding, as usual. Penguins' zone exit and forecheck were beautiful beyond all words.
Martin Brodeur was incredibly obese, but never looked quite at home in his fatness as he has in recent years.
There were posts, missed chances, a variety of awfulness.
4 shots combined in the first period.
Second period shouldn't have even been played.
Third period had flashes of openness especially since the Devils' defensemen kept ending up hurt.
Officiating was dreadful, and we learned of new additions to the NHL rulebook such as the rule that contact with Swedes is illegal, as is trying to play the puck with your stick.
It came down to shootout, AGAIN, which felt stupid as all hell.
Brodeur was good, but Fleury was better.
James Neal could destroy a paradox machine with his brain
Neal needs to look more excited and overwhelmed by pimp-strut.
Henri Cartier-Bresson not impress with this decisive moment.
Also: Comrie played today and didn't take a giant dump on our hopes and dreams by existing, so we consider it an upgrade.
Real talk on Quizilla right now: which b2k member would you most likely have sex with?
Something actual that needs to be addressed here is the fact that the Pens are the hardest-working and likely the best-conditioned team in the NHL right now. They are tearing up a storm with a lineup that has no business being here. It's a team that walks and breathes together, and always knows where every player is on the ice. Mistakes are made, penalites are taken, they're far from perfect, but damn if this isn't the best-executed system you've seen in years.
Pens didn't clinch tonight, since Carolina won. Sunday is the Panthers.
Cue: the Panthers exist?
First and foremost we must remind you all to register to go to Las Vegas for the NHL awards show. Seeing as PH staff receive their invitations delivered by hand from various NHL star players, we promote you guys getting some free tickets and living it up while we critique fashion and speeches and generally boo the undeserving recipients the NHL has chosen this year.
The Penguins were in my territory last night, and I was somewhere in the 38th hour of sleep deprivation when the game started. Feeling weirdly alive, I figured I'd have no problem finishing up the game and recapping. That was before I started seeing the Ambien walrus with zero input from ambien.
Not too far from the truth.
By the time this was happening:
My email looked like this:
Seeing as how I often walk the two miles to and from my place of work because I am too poor to afford subway tokens, this was clearly a problem.
However, I do suggest Chocomize.
I made a candy bar that contained: beef jerky, bacon bits, coffee grounds, mini chipotle peppers and 23 karate gold flakes.
I named it the MANdy Bar.
So, needless to say I passed out shortly after all of the delirium, and had some really weird dreams for about 14 hours. (It's called REM rebound, bitches, and it's a fact. If you want to watch the coolest, weirdest movie in your brain during the night, just stop sleeping for over 40 hours. Then you can marry Brooks Orpik and have half-zebra children and live in the auditorium of what you understand to be your former high school but really looks like a shopping mall when you think about it.)
It's all that I can ever really ask for that the citizens of this city be miserable while I flit about the streets in Pens gear, telling them all they can go to hell, and the Penguins delivered on that.
Thank you, men.
In other news, Mike Comrie is coming back tonight, which is cool. Zoe will be getting the game (and I'm no fortune teller, but I feel a drunkblog in the air and it smells like nachos and cheap tequila) so give her your attention and ever-loving respect.
Waiting for media last night before passing out led me to prepare this for the recap that never happened, but I thought I'd share my fevered train of thought anyway:
Report: Chris Osgood leaking fat out of his hernia or something
1. BROOKS IS PRACTICING YAY
2. Take a shot for every time Brooks says "obviously" or "especially" in this video. Then, write us an e-mail sensuously describing your experience.
Tomorrow's game is up in the air.
We'll entertain you somehow.
Okay, first of all, Go Pens.
Despite your little maneuver where the Wings caught up to you after you had a seemingly insurmountable lead we at least pulled two points out of this game.
Secondly, what sort of back ally interns did the press find to man their cameras last night?
Waiting for photos to roll in was ridiculous last night, and when I saw that this photo was one of the 8 submitted to our favorite media hub from the game last night (two of which are the same photo, submitted twice), I was ready to throw in the towel:
With swamp thing appearing in the published photos, you have to wonder what was left on the cutting room floor other than ejaculate of Wings bloggers when regulation ended and they started getting fevered ideas of what could happen.
So, with these remaining photos, let me try to assemble a story that accurately describes last night's game:
Once apon a time there was an ice hockey team named the Pittsburgh Penguins. They were the best team in all the lands, and had the bitchingest players. One day they were forced to play hockey in the Land of the Forgotten - a wasteland that once produced slightly useful things but was now being taken off the map by their own government - to play the Detroit Red Wings.
At first, the Pittsburgh Penguins were doing just fine. Everyone on the team was doing amazing things on the ice. Benny Lovejoy had a chance at a goal, Brent Johnson was making all of the ladies of the land pregnant with his wonderful saves, and Deryk Engelland got hit in the face with a puck and came right back out onto the ice, showing everyone what high virility he has.
This photo takes us to a scene during the hockey game in the Land of the Forgotten.
Dustin Jeffery is a hardworking boy trying to get his family's puck to the other end of the ice. Tomas Holmstrom is the town molester and plans to rape little Jeffery after the game if the Penguins don't win. Jeffery cried for a little while when he heard this, but after his mother told him he could do it, he went to defend himself.
Because this moment of bravery and motherly love is so important, it was published twice:
Then, before anyone knew what was happening, Pascal Dupuis got the puck. Pascal, you see, was the town archer. And while very good at hitting things dead-center, this is not the most useful of skills in hockey. Goalies across the land protect their logos when they see Pascal coming their way, but the net is not their foremost concern. This time, however, a miracle had occurred!
Pascal had take a special pill, given to him my a mysterious man with a Nova Scotian accent. With the power from this pill, Pascal wraps around the goal and puts the puck in!
Always, always take pills from mysterious men, children.
Chris Kunitz, one of the valiant knights from the village, asks Pascal how he got the magic that he was playing with. Pascal smiles at him, and asks if he'd like to work off of the magic. The two of them set off to work, and in a few moments, Pascal has given the puck to Chris, who expertly guides it into the net.
The Pens skip to the locker room, 2-0 and pleased.
The Pittsburgh Penguins now rein over the Land of the Forgotten with an iron fist - they cut off the hands of thieves, put enemies of the state in the iron maiden, and kill random citizens at will. It is a beautiful time in the Land of the Forgotten, and all of the citizens cheer.
Pascal, our hero from before, uses his magic again to put another puck in the net. And as we've learned, Pascal is plenty happy to share his magic with other on the team.
Tyler Kennedy, prince of all the lands, asks him if he can borrow some.
"Why of course you can, mister Kennedy!"
The Pittsburgh Penguins are obviously very happy that everyone in the kingdom now looks to them for answers and that the villagers shake in fear when they walk by.
Unfortunately, the magic gets out of hand. Young Kris Letang, a unicorn herder, got carried away in the magic. His skates got a mind of their own, and reached out for the nearest puck to send it into a net. Unfortunately, he inadvertently attacked his own lands.
The magic was gone. A cloud fell over the lands.
Things have gotten terrible in the lands.
Count Filppula has arrived on his dark steed to put a puck in the net for the enemy, the protective magic having been broken.
Kronwall and Modano, part of the former royal family of the Land of the Forgotten (rumored to be incestuous) get a point each to tie the score.
Things have gone terrible awry.
Hint: Don't rent the extended versiou when it comes out on DVD.
Just get the one that goes straight to "Happily Ever After."
And they all lived happily ever after.
CAN THAT NEVER EVER HAPPEN AGAIN OKAYPLZ AND CAN PRESS PLEASE WAKE THE FUCK UP FOR THE REST OF THE SEASON?
Thank you, Prince Neal.
Calming our hearts.
Never losing again.
Never doing that again, either.
Asham is coming back tonight, so whatev.
Solid offerings from our Mattie Cooke memegen.
First of all, all of these are anonymous offerings, and we just want to extend a heartfelt Thank You to all.
Second, we're not going to act like we enjoy elbows to heads, or think that such things shouldn't be cause for suspension.
The issue here is more with the fact that anyone who participates in any aspect of professional hockey, be it as a journalist, a fan, a front-office representative, or a player, should realize that this issue needs to be examined without bias. All head shots are shitty. Enough of them and your brain could end up like Bob Probert's. . .i.e., not good. Many people, dare we say it, stupid people, want to paint this as an issue concerning individual villains who aren't being punished enough. And yes, it starts there--dishing out individual punishment, creating fines that target teams and ownership, these would all be steps in the right direction.
But the most important step is realizing that the problem is an over-arching one within the culture of hockey.
You win with both toughness and with skill. Up-front toughness is being discouraged. It is, in fact, better and more coest-effective and more depth-building to have players who will both agitate and crash the net, both fight and have good breakout passing. It's why we lol'd at the Rangers for throwing money at Boogaard, it's why Eric Godard's role on the Penguins is vanishing. The trend is towards subtleties and gray areas, ways to fit into the bigger, faster, stronger, smarter gameplan of the new NHL, ways around rules, ways to legitimize hockey in a United States market.
Matt Cooke's role is alive and well in the NHL, and so should it be.
But someone also needs to come out and police the game, to say that excuses such as "oh, well, it as an accident" or "he's never done anything like this before" aren't good enough.
Stop villifying individuals. Cross the names out of the news article on NHL.com and see how you feel.
Hockey has always been the sport that most beautifully unites the skill set and passion of the individual with the magic that is teamwork, but this isn't about ~*~*~MATT COOKE~*~*~. It's about the league.
Matt Cooke made a play at a critical point in the season, and in the game, where maybe he should have thought twice. Shit happens--another excuse. Doesn't mean it's totally awesome and we're cool with it.
Pens are going to be fine.
Something tells us that, like Trevor Gillies' children, Matt Cooke's are still going to eat and have a roof over their heads.
You show what you mean by "justice" and "parity" and the game plays on.