God I love it when Pens bus issues make headlines. Someone get them Miss Frizzle and that magical bus. Engine troubles for the 198,773th time, but they made it to the rink. Apparently the boys were discussing taxis, but we totally know that KTang had this plan going through his mind:
Aaaaand yes, Clark Gable would be played by an especially salty MaxTal.
Triumphant Return of Brooks Orpik:
Dear Brooks and all future Mrs. Brooks,
Please consider this for baby's first Christmas card. Sir, he has your eyes. Google Images, ftw.
Puck drops in Palookaville. The game of 0-0 commences.
15 minutes without a shot, Pens. Killing me. Killing this baby, too.
Dupes gets a penalty. Nothing happens. Orpik gets a penalty. Nothing happens.
The second starts and Adams and Crombeen decide to do the man dance. Sad fight. Craig, this is how it's supposed to look:
Your fight? Look how you made Benicio feel.
Me too, Benicio. Me too.
Brent Johnson is a wizard. McClement and Oshie are out of their minds. Letestu is out there stealing pucks left and right.
Tangradi gets us our first PP aaaaaand nothing.
At this point I am staring at the screen with my Kristen Stewart face on. You know, the blank one. I don't know why I had to clarify that. Sid gets into a fender bender, which sends Roman Polak to the dressing room. The second ends.
My mad search for caffeine begins:
Guesses on what happens in the third?
Ok, maybe an exaggeration. Letestu is called for hooking, Johnson becomes a ninja wizard, and Halak starts doing the worm to block Rupp's shot which totally works, goddamnit.
TJ gets bitchy and high-sticks Brooks. On the PP: nothing. Suddenly Sid is fucking everywhere and for 2 minutes things happen! Wooooooo! Sid puts 3 shots on goal, Comrie floats in and things start to look up.
Then we're back to nothing.
OT: Johnson v. Johnson. One must win.
Bad Johnson takes it all. BTW, "Erik" is a stupid way to spell your name, dick.
ALTERNATE THREE STARS:
3. Babies that may be related to Brooks:
2. The wall that I slammed my head into after the first:
1. The bus that obviously knew what was coming and quit before it started:
We're debuting a fancy new poll on the right. Feel free to shower us with validation.
I hope you weren't scared of the monster with the fighting bears that Kim allowed to post on the blog yesterday.
But admittedly, he saved us when our lives fell apart, so I'm not going to complain. It was a good post. Let's all give big hugs and applause to Kim for making sure everything was okay while I may or may not have been strapped to a log about to go through a massive table saw, or something.
I'm tired and my metaphors are bad today, so let's get down to business.
Crash My Net Friday is back, albeit a day late, for your viewing pleasure. We have some new subheads for this mess. And hope that you do so enjoy.
Our first choice is albeit an obvious one, considering how often we have discussed that we want him to sweep us off our feet and take us far, far away, to the lands where winners are born.
We present, then, ladies and gentlemen: MARK LETESTU CAN CRASH MY NET
I mean. . .why the hell not?
4 goals, 3 assists, and +4 in 8 games really isn't bad, especially for somebody who has no guaranteed spot in the NHL this year, is the sensitive age that is 25, and happens to be from the prairie wasteland that some glorify as Alberta.
He is doing so well in life. And would be such a good date. Clearly the times are a'changin'. He is also Aquarius.
Ladies, get in line.
Not that most hockey players don't have a genuine smile that warms our hearts like fresh-baked cupcakes, but Mark Letestu looks seriously genuine. He has probably never asked for ponies for his birthday. Just goals.
Every man wears happiness and confidence well. These are just facts of life.
If you want to get laid, act like Mark Letestu. You will.
LAST SURGE OF DESIRE
Center point on the PP? Okay. In your face.
We had five of Mark Letestu's children between us before they started the clock again for the next faceoff.
And then we wanted to go at it again.
THE WHOLESOMENESS PART OF IT
Did you know that:
Mark Letestu likes to wrap Christmas presents?
That this interview could have been much more awkward if Mark Letestu hadn't been so kind to the awkward child?
And that he has Tons Of Friends?
We wish we had Tons Of Friends.
WHAT HAPPENS THE MORNING AFTER
"You didn't have to make me waffles. That's sweet. I'm going to eat them anyway, though. Is there coffee? Heyyyyyyy"
In our mind, Mark Letestu is a nice person, who also knows that he is a Badass Motherfucker and doesn't have to thank you for your waffles. Frankly, he expected them, but would never let this on.
CONVERSELY, WHO IS NOT EVEN ALLOWED NEAR OUR NETS
Surprisingly, the Blues roster is replete with people who we think would make brilliant net-front presences in our lives.
But we've settled on BJ Crombeen, just because if the romance was taken far enough and he proposed marriage, we would have to decline, on the possibility that we might ever be referred to as Mrs. Crombeen.
Anyway, it doesn't matter how hard we are finding it to hate the Blues.
Jaroslav Halak will be in net. And we have business with Jaro.
Oh look you got dicked in the mouth by Hornqvist, too?
Too fucking bad.
Cry baby cry.
We're coming for you, ScottTrade Center!
(God that hardly sounds epic enough. . .)
Anyway, put the coffee on, and hunker down for some good old Missouri hockey. . .or something.
Their coach is also named Davis Payne which sounds like a minor character from a Die Hard sequel.
Kim got the flu. I think she got drunk at Happy Hour and went into an alleyway where 18 dark wizards were making "whiz" for a batch of Philly cheese steaks, and was Hexed.
18 dark wizards is the appropriate amount of wizards to corrupt a block of cheddar into whiz. You didn't think Flyers fans were just that awful on their own, did you?
This is Kim's boyfriend. She got the flu and I am going to Hockey about the Hockey, because if Kim has to leave the bed she will start screaming about how she needs Jack Daniels and Robitussin and I am trying to be responsible here, God Damn You All.
Things about me: Before I met Kim the only thing I knew about hockey was that Canadian boys used it as a safe avenue to vent their homosexual tensions. Now I know pretty much everything. She has a post it note I made her at work that lists all 31 professional hockey teams, including the Muskrats, who last we heard are doing a tie in movie deal with the Chilean miners.
ARE YOU READY FOR SOME INCOMPETENT HOCKEY REPORTAGE?
Don't tell Zoe about this.
MOMENT YOU BARELY REMEMBERED BY THE END OF THE GAME
53 seconds in Legwand scores for the Preds, on account of the distraction caused by their extremely correct bootlaces. Breast cancer, this goal was for you.
Making fun of the laces is like making fun of cancer, so I'm going to refrain. But I shouldn't. (Haha what a bunch of gaywads what in the fuck)
CREATING THE GLORIOUS PATH TOWARD VICTORY AWARD
Evgeni Malkin responds (late enough to cause concern) with the assist from the guy who is dating Hillary Duff. In his quiet moments, Geno sits and thinks about creating Feasts prepared from the flesh of his Enemies.
Hair league points for all involved! If you are bleeding in public, make sure you are not downwind from Evgeni Malkin.
PLAYERS FOR HOCKEY TEAMS THAT HAVE A QUESTIONABLE RIGHT TO EXIST AWARD
Isn't Nashville basically a fucking prairie or some shit? Who told Nashville they could have a hockey team? The Ducks I kind of understand because that's Disney, and if the Saudis can have gardens in the desert, Disney can have a hockey team in Anaheim. But who sponsors the Preds? The Grand Ole Opry?
Franson scores. 2-1 Preds. Kim was screaming. I think I was eating a pork chop.
SCREAMING EAGLE AWARD FOR GOALS THAT LOOK REALLY UNLIKELY BUT THEY HAPPEN
Guitar solos and bitches poppin' out the Escalade and champagne! I don't think this describes Sidney Crosby's lifestyle at all, but it describes my feelings about this picture and I am the Captain of this ship right now, so you will all have to huddle below deck as I stomp and storm and rage and steer us into a Typhoon.
HORNQVIST HORNQVIST HORNQVIST
A name that is almost as stupid as this outfit should not be allowed to have goals.
What's with these homies? Kim was seeing the End of all things and denouncing the Lord at this point. I think I had moved on to post 'chop nap time. 3-2.
RELEASE THE KRAKEN
Geno undresses a couple of dudes and wings it to Sid and Sid's like man what the fuck and Obi-Wan comes to him and is like listen there is an exhaust pipe in the Death Star and if you shoot a missile into the hole it will somehow explode the entire Death Star instead of just causing some minor damage in the section into which it was fired now just stop listening to that little penis shaped bugger that keeps beeping at you and use the Force.
3-3. WE GO INTO OVERTIME
OH MAN WE FINALLY GOT TO THE CASTLE NOW WE JUST HAVE TO KICK DAVID BOWIE'S ASS AND GET THAT BABY BACK
DANCE MAGIC DANCE MAGIC DANCE MAGIC DANCE
Look, I'm not really as into hockey as Kim is. If a Hockey is going to go past the normal amount of time, I have to make a partial retreat into something that makes more sense to me, like David Bowie's magic pants and his castle full of rooms that are meant to abuse Jennifer Connelly. I wish David Bowie would take me to his castle. I would stay forever.
WE SAVED THE BABY BUT OUR HEARTS ARE CHANGED FOREVER GOD DAMN YOU DAVID BOWIE
Letang scores in overtime it's brilliant everyone screams. 4-3. Breaking a six game losing streak on Predator Ice.
Also that #7 is not Mark Eaton, which I just learned. Mark Eaton now plays for the New York Islanders. Whaaaaaaaaat.
OKAY SO WHAT'S UP NOW
Things being this close with a hockey team that barely exists is not acceptable, as far as I understand it (even though the Pens apparently never do well in Nashville, so go them.). The Pens are going to look back at this and be like man fuck this shit we are going to start doing some serious hockey and then they'll have a game against the Capitals that they'll start by skating in figure 8's and Ovechkin will be like "It looks like I will have to use my poison tipped hockey stick tonight" and he will poison Sid but Sid will be okay but the Pens will band together and defend his honor by winning the Stanley Cup and then every Stanley Cup in succession until the end of the time, because this is what my girlfriend wants more than anything else in her weird and currently not very pleasant life, and so she will get it.
Sid is ready to go, just wondering when he can get the puck next and put it away.
Some Pred is looking like a total doucher off to the left.
(By "Some Pred" we mean Tootoo. Bringin' the lulz.)
We're going to be honest, our lives are harder than Vesa Toskala's right now, and if you have any connection with Vesa, you know that is really quite difficult, especially when your maid puts your fuzziest robe in the dryer and gets it all matted and OMG NOW I HAVE TO GO BUY A NEW ONE. (We feel for you Vesa, we really do.)
Because of this, we're getting back to you on the recap from tomorrow.
Don't stress, we're comin' at you. Features starting soon.
Recap for this game.
Rocktober's going out strong this year, we here.
DEATH TO THE PHRASE "IT'S ONLY OCTOBER"
Maybe we are feeling a little frisky.
Leave a line in the comments that you dare us to add to the recap if you're bored.
We'll make it happen. In fact, we'll make it work.
Today the Penguins are going to another one of our favorite cities, Nashville.
We have taken this occasion to update our hair league spreadsheet, but the leaderboard has yet to change in any meaningful way, so we're too lazy to update the page at present, but it's coming. Ben Lovejoy earned some points. It's all good.
We realized that we don't know shit about the Preds other than the fact that we love them, in some vague way, so this will be a new experience for us all.
We did some brief research to figure out when the last time was that we cared about the Preds, and it was February 14th of this year, which coincidentally was the middle of the Coldest Winter and we were probably dying alive. Coincidentally, the recap for this game is steeped in Americana. It was a Sunday, on Valentine's day, before the Olympics. The Preds won in SO. Last season was one of those seasons where you don't remember shit, but one thing we DEFINITELY remember is that it's been a long time since the Penguins beat the Predators.
Actually it was on February 6, 2007. Even then, half of the people clogging up the concourses and booing the Pens power play at CEC probably thought hockey was for pussies and that the Stillers were Pittsburgh.
We don't actually know.
The important thing is that it's fall in Nashville, the air will be crisp, and the Nashville ArenaGaylord Entertainment CenterSommet Center Bridgestone Arena will be rocking with some asses in those $14 seats.
They just lost 0-1 to Calgary. Which should have them pretty pissed off. Like so:
Again, we have misplaced sympathies for teams that we need to crush. Except really, every time the Pens lost to the Preds, it was just some slightly violent, slightly sad failure on the part of our boys. Like trying to shit in a bucket and missing.
bucket in question.
Anyway, here's the latest on our end:
Tomorrow we will be doing something earth-shattering. Not even kidding.
We will be adopting MouthGuard's suggestion for having a family-feud style occasional feature in which Certain People will try to answer Certain Questions about Certain Things and see how well their answers match up with the PH Survey, which may or may not actually be conducted.
We're trying to get people to send us reaction tapes to the Sidney Crosby bread commercial, just like 2 girls 1 cup. If you haven't seen it yet, turn on your webcam, load the video, and send us the file of your genuine reaction.
is where it's at
BUT WHERE WAS THE STRUGGLE??? We're not going to say that this was a clean win. But the general feeling of ceaseless grind was absent. The mountain was tall, but climbable. There was no thousand-yard-stare in anyone's eyes, no "because it is there" attitude of desperation. We just beat the fuckin' Sens. We didn't even get too much jizz in our eyes.
MOST OVERWHELMING FEELING OF EMPTINESS, UNTIL. . . Understandably, everyone is all blahblahblah Gonch blahblahblah power play blahblahblah balls blahblahblah Gonchar Gonchar Gonchar. Interestingly, no photos of Gonchar were taken during this game for the benefit of history and society.
Pens bench stood up for this, according to the Twitter universe. We are pure class. We are heroes. However, Gonchar was not the story of the game, neither was the ever-present OMG THEY HAVE THE SAME BIRTHDAY AND THEY ARE LIKE TWELVE comment regarding Bylsma and Clouston. The story of the game, for the first couple minutes, was absolutely nothing. Everyone had run out of things to talk about. Pens end up on the PP because Peter Regin, the small child who peed on our faces in the playoffs last spring, took some really ill-advised interference penalty. PP hangs out a bit. You're like whatevs. Suddenly Mark Letestu is like, center point in the high slot, winding up to smoke defenseless Brian Elliott forever and ever.
Who doesn't want to make love to this guy? Seriously. Sweet, dirty love. All night. 1-0 Pens.
WHAT NOW BITCHES You can't deny that sometimes there are yinzers and doubters who think that Sidney Crosby is just going to up and not produce one year, almost for funsies. But then for some reason the Pens PP starts getting pucks to the net. Again. Sid is in the right place at the right time. Goligoski gets it to the net. It bounces around. Okay, take it to the side of the net. We didn't see that one coming at all. . .
It's 2-0. We'll take it.
MOST PIMP STRUTTING Comrie, Malkin, and Letestu are busy making things really difficult for everyone. Something tells you that they're pissed. Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Brian Elliott is reading his favorite book:
Malkin's busy diving to push the puck into the cage though. Man.
New trifecta of bromance? 3-0. Well hello.
BEST EFFORT FOR YOUR HAIR LEAGUE ON THE EVENING
Deryk Engelland. He and Neil look like they are engaged in a furious man-hug of doom, which is what many fights in the NHL eventually devolve into. Bear-hugs, dancing, toe-tapping good times. They wrestle each other to death. Deryk gets a lucky few 10 points. And then disappears again into the generally-solid-defensive night. This is followed by a Benny-Hill-Esque slapstick festival along the boards. Party for all.
PERIOD THAT FELT LIKE YOU SNORTED CAFFEINE The second. Oh wow. So. First Daniel Alfredsson removes Spezza's dick from his face long enough to score a goal. Kovalev and Gonchar get the assists, like their microcosm of justice for the night. No one photographed the goal or any ensuing celebrations, so on our authority, we're not sure it happened, other than a flash of a dream in a protein stain. Then Dupuis gets a dirty one. It's 4-1. Someone starts passing out sheets of acid. Immediately thereafter, Letang takes a shot which shatters some Senator's stick and goes in behind Elliott. Elliott proceeds to have an existential crisis and some Swedish child takes the net:
At intermission, we get some Dupuis hair:
aren't you high by now?
MOST FOREGONE CONCLUSIONS By the time intermission was over you had probably forgotten that Brent Johnson had fucked up Jesse Winchester in the face. Winchester bleeds, goes off to film some bad porno. Hutchinson sits in the box for it. Sens kill it. Then Spezza and Campoli come on our faces. NEVER MIND YOU THAT THOUGH. Most of the rest of the period is a Beej Sexfest. Here is an example from the first period to illustrate:
You knew this was happening, because this felt like the back of a club in the 80's and everything was gonna be just fine.
PENS WIN 5-2 Sorry about the jobber recap but we're still trying to get the jizz out of our eyes.
ALTERNATIVE THREE STARS 1. Alexei Kovalev - because Kimberly misses him. Still. 1 assist for making all the Togliatti bitches in the house pregnant. 2. Ktang - he seemed rather lulzy last evening 3. Dupuis - working hard, getting goals.
really we wish we could just give all the stars to Letestu
There have been some slight shakeups in the framework of the Hair League. So far the leading team belongs to those three lucky compatriots who have selected Max Talbot, Evgeni Malkin, and Pascal Dupuis. This is the leaderboard for the top three ranks: 1. Tied for first with 76 points: Strudels & Doodles, Alyssa T's Team, Anna H's Team. 2. Jon W's Team with 73 points 3. utterfrivolity with 72 points
The following table shows our hair points given to each player: Clicking on that will open the large version in a new window/tab. Recommended if you can't read it.
Now, we've so far logged 59 hair instances. The table is huge; no idea how to keep you up-to-date with them unless you don't mind us pasting raw unformatted text from a spreadsheet into a post. You can click the "read more" if that appeals to you. Ready?
When the Pens come to my unfortunate (and temporary) neck of the woods, I do like to see them walk away with a bit of a pimp strut. And this was a game to give them a pimp strut indeed.
It's always cool when you can really whip ass on a team that is one of your biggest "rivals" though in this case it's more in theory than in practice. Still, we like to take the win and we like to take it hard, which is exactly what we did tonight.
Sure there were a few messy moments and some times you were ready to call for the death of some people involved in oh, say, nothing in particular SPECIAL TEAMS SPECIAL TEAMS SPECIAL TEAMS. Oh. Sorry. We're bad at subtlety. But in the end we just wanted to lovingly caress everyone, gaze into their eyes, and ask them to please, please do this again sometime soon.
GREATEST WAY TO GET THROUGH THE FIRST SHITTY MOMENT
The first few minutes of the game are unclear.
Like any hockey game, it takes a few plays to really understand what's happening; to gauge the mood of the game.
For a moment we here at Base Philly were worried it was going to be a sloppy showing. Guess that just proves there's something in the water here that makes you just a touch less able to think with intelligence.
Unclear, also, is the world around me due to the constant slow burn I've got on.
A small medical issue provided me all of the pain-numbing happiness I needed to get over the far worse pain of watching Carter and Corpse Boy work their "magic" together and put one in behind Brent.
Ugh God and somehow Hartnell found his way into the mess for a photo op.
Luckily I'm high enough to brush it off like I just bailed out on some gnarlatious heavies out on Oahu.
Can we all just agree that, high or not, surfer slang is the absolute worst?
Anyway, I was not distressed.
I was not doubting the Penguins.
If you were, maybe you should try finding a prescription for that.
THE SWIFT AND TERRIBLE RETRIBUTION AWARD
It doesn't take long before we're able to claim that mistake back.
Sid capitalizes on a stupid line change on the part of the Flyers. Hits it to Kunitz.
Kunitz knows what to do.
We are pumped.
We are remembering why we hate Philly so much.
We are excited for MOAR.
We...we have no idea what's in store.
BRIEF BREAK FOR RIDICULOUS MESSAGE
Registered to vote in Toronto?
Not sure who to throw your support to?
Feel better knowing that PH is politically involved and will tell you what to think when you go to cast your ballot.
(Wait, do Canadians get to vote? Aren't they some sort of goddamn hippy commune or something? I thought they had a queen. Or a Baroness at least? Okay, okay, fine.)
PH is officially casting its (incredibly influential) vote to this man.
Vote Steve Murray for Mayor.
He can pull off the Carey Price, he's obviously the best hope Toronto has, and he stands for everything we believe in.
And maybe he's related to Andrew.
THE SEXIEST MAN ON SKATES
The second period, not surprisingly, is boring as balls. It's a huge competition of whose special teams can suck worse than the others.
No one is too pleased because the tie is hanging around well past when it was welcome.
Suddenly Prince Charming appears on the ice riding a white steed.
There is no photo, so we're going to need you to combine the two following photos to help you get an idea of what happened:
Letestu is allowed to sweep us off our feet any day of the week.
THE MOMENT WE ALL GOT PREGNANT
Crosby got the Hunger and the man advantage and we were more excited watching him circle the net like a hungry scarf that waiting for our sea monkeys to hatch (and trust me, the excitement is real.)
Sid was worried we were all getting a little sleepy.
Yes Cappycakes we see you, hello, yes your mom is watching she saw it and she said you did good.
That was quite the lovely goal, you know.
I'm pretty pleased, we really wanted to see your numbers go up a li-
HOLY SHIT WHERE WERE YOU SHOOTING FROM, 27 BILLION MILES AWAY?!?!?!?
For a second we had to whip our heads over to check and see if that was Gonch back there, visiting for old time's sake.
Sidney Crosby it is.
57 foot slapshot, the longest of his career.
Let's crack open some champagne and drink to schadenfreude.
ANOTHER BRIEF PAUSE IN OUR REGULAR PROGRAMMING TO POINT OUT SOMETHING
Maria pointed something out to us and it just may be the most awkward something we see all year.
God that is just a three hour soak in the awkward mudbath.
THE MOST TOOTHLESS HAPPY ENDING Mattie Cooke makes us go home satisfied by helping the puck find its home, short handed. What a day for the People.
The press, on Deryk Engelland. There's plenty more where those came from, too.
ALTERNATIVE THREE STARS
1) Letestu- Because he saves our asses all the time and we're not sure how we lived without them.
2) Engellend - For providing all of those glamour shots to your obvious stalker.
3) Rupp - We'd hit it. Twice.
So, here's where everything obviously changes and we go on a winning streak longer than any other in the history of the NHL, and we Never Lose Again. Had you forgotten? Hope. Believe. Never Losing Again. Go Pens.
The world has sent us plagues, and the Pens have overcome another game out of 82. The first little flicker of hope inside the Consol Energy Center burned up through the ice, under Rick DiPietro as he prostrated himself wondering why he is in actuality made of styrofoam. The NHL has consistently been mixing up the meanings of what is right and what is wrong. Confusion is just the way of hockey. In split seconds, worlds are created and destroyed. Empires crumble, dreams get just a little bit bigger or a little bit smaller. Euphoria and chaos. Philosophical conversations will be had in Escalades and custom BMWs leaving the players' lot this evening. (Photoshop suggestion: Curry as Shiva? E-mail it to us.)
Is it in good philosophical taste to have an awards show at such an important moment of life evaluation? . . .Well, fuck yeah.
THE PALACE YOU BUILT IN YOUR SOUL, SLOWLY ERODING AWAY The first period left you with little faith. Almost none could be discovered. Godard drops the gloves, tries to get the boys energized, and it works, but then the Isles discover what happens when you put the Pens on the power play. Six minutes nearly back-to-back in the first period are spent with the Pens wafting shots around, making ill-advised cross-ice passes, generally being pussies. We're not even sure the press showed up to take pictures of this game. These may have been snapped by a self-sufficient strand of Blake Comeau's dignity that escaped from the locker room:
Really pivotal moment of the game, Associated Press.
Kunitz and DiPietro begin a sloppy love affair. DiPietro will later try desperately to touch Kunitz's balls.
Some wraparound. No one remembers it. Somewhere in there Cooke got 2 minutes for being beautiful.
THE INTERMISSION YOU DREADED Another intermission, another 20 minutes gone where you didn't know who was who or what was what or if anything good would ever happen to you ever again. You sacrificed a small pack animal and ate a Funfetti cupcake at intermission, and if you didn't, you damn well should have. Somewhere in the ether, the blood that has been spilled to get to this point starts awakening all kinds of complicated energy. Where is the kick in the ass we all need?
BEST PREMATURE GOOD FEELINGS Fun fact: Talbot's line started every period today. The second was no exception. The Pens start out looking anemic, leaking all over the place like the embalming fluid out of Daniel Briere. Someone hits a post on what could have been a textbook redirect into a wide-open net. You hate everything.
Mike Rupp hates it more than you do, though, and makes a conscious decision to go out there and fix things. Goal 1-0.
GOAL THAT MADE YOU NOT ONLY PREGNANT, BUT PROUD TO BE ALIVE Mark Letestu beats two Islanders to a puck behind the net and chips it to Tangradi, who brings it out in front and takes a look at the net. A little known fact is that Eric Tangradi is trying to breed his own half-human, half-baby-ox army of awesome. He finally decided it was time to spread his seed.
Ladies, give birth. Watch the horns. 2-0 Penguins.
THE AWARD WE CAN'T COME UP WITH A TITLE FOR BECAUSE WE HATE EVERYTHING ABOUT IT SO MUCH THAT IT IS BEYOND THE ABILITIES OF ALL WORLD LANGUAGES
Everyone knows this was not a hit to the head. In the replay, note that Comeau is able to keep his head from hitting the ice when he falls and appears to be looking up and alert. He even is on his knees briefly before lowering himself to his stomach. Yeah. You were probably wondering holy fuck, is that guy okay? Replay clearly shows that it was a shoulder check. Tang is immediately ejected for an illegal hit to the head, which carries a 5 minute major and game misconduct. K. Everyone plays some 4-on-4 while Josh Bailey sits 2 minutes for roughing after attacking Kris Letang following the hit. He comes onto the ice after the penalty, stays out for the first PP unit. Comeau is apparently well enough to assist on the goal. whateverthefuck
Talbot is killing the rest of the major penalty when he gets hauled down at the Islanders' blueline. No call. Isles come back and score another:
Oh look it's 2-2. Blake Comeau has another assist. He must be really hurt.
MOST COMPLEX EMOTIONS FELT TOWARDS A TEENAGE SWISS MAN
One of the better efforts for the Pens power play this evening. No clue. Pens get some 5-on-3 while he's in the box and completely fail to do anything meaningful with it. Or any of the penalties this kid took all night. Maybe if we sacrifice the small pack animal in Graubünden, the power play will be more effective. Someone get on that.
MOST FEELINGS Well there was the time that Sid kept missing the net and the time that Cooke thought he and DiPietro were playing bumper cars DiPietro was a really bitchy date to the amusement park and the time that the power play failed a bunch more times. Brent Johnson stood tall. Here is a photo from some indeterminate point in the game to illustrate this:
Stoned Comeau in the slot. Comeau scores there, we personally kill his family and suicide at center ice in CEC following the murder. Only sort of kidding. Engelland takes some penalty with just over two minutes left. Survivormode kicks in. It is the most beautiful PK since the beginning of time. But then the clock is almost out. It wasn't meant to happen in regulation. A commercial break scrambles its way across your screen. Oh god.
SUDDENEST DEATH Early in the OT period Jurcina goes off for some random penalty that somebody else actually committed and there is a lot of yelling, and doom. You can't say that you have a good feeling. The Pens are controlling the puck but it amounts to wide shots and DiPietro stoning Crosby and you're just really upset. . .but. However. There is an ending to this madness. There is medicine for this fever.
Thank heavens for this.
PENS WIN 3-2 OT JUSTICE
Home is safe. For the first time this year, home is safe.
PERSON WHO WILL IN FACT WIN HIS NEXT GAME
Andrew Hutchinson or whatever his name is
ALTERNATIVE THREE STARS 1. Mark Letestu - beast 2. everyone at CEC who didn't boo - you know, the six of you 3. Brent Johnson - thank you very much sir.
Quick tunraround to Philly tomorrow. Hair League page will receive updates on Sunday. Much fucking love.
We'll make sure we mention it over tea this weekend.
By now you've already gotten your recaps and made your decisions about how to feel about this game. Meanwhile we were getting distracted by shiny objects and whatever was happening in this photo.
But we still have some things to say about the game, because we know there are people who are being real bitches about now.
The game wasn't bad. There was some messy defensive work at points, and maybe a few missed chances, but really the Pens could have just as easily walked away from the game if not from a great performance by "Monster", who we will never refer to again as such. Instead, "Marmoset".
We cannot spend another season fearing the Leafs because they are a shitty team that can, for whatever reason, take us to town.
We must take out the fear at the root.
It's a bumpy start, this season.
But we here are at PH are no strangers to bumpy starts.
"The GPS thought we could afford toll roads. That really brought the lols. Fail number one out of the way. 6:14 AM Aug 9th from txt"
-Southern Adventure Tweets.
We never saw another fail after the horrible blunder in the beginning.
See, this is just the first bit of fail. Getting it out of the way.
Anyway, what we're saying is that yes, this sucks, and yes, it is a bad sign, and yes, there is a picture of the captain of our team making this face
But in the end we are the Penguins and we are going to win the Stanley Cup.
Now, onto the next order of business.
Here's the deal. Now that the season is back in full swing, we've got some features to start, bring back, and create.
Look forward to some new and exciting features, along with a classic that everyone missed.
Plus, we were thinking we could ask you guys to brainstorm a feature YOU would like to see entered into the weekly/biweekly rotation. Best one gets executed in a horrendous fashion by us once a week or so. So make it good.
We also wanted to alert you to something that Kelly, of the leagues of valued Puck Huffers Bitches (As I think you guys voted you wanted to be called, right? Or something.), is doing. She's opened a CafePress store of some original designs of Brooks Orpik gear, which is extremely fitting right about now.
Kind of like when tinkerbell needs you to clap, Brooks needs you to spend money on his gear.