Right before your eyes see the laughter from the skies
And he laughs until he cries, then he dies, then he dies
Less than a week ago few would have predicted where we are: with 60 successful minutes comes a chance to emphatically put our stamp on this rivalry. It's been a near flawless extension of the regular season, one where AV (finally!) has kept his mercs focused on the game, not extracurricular activities. Where the depth we've shook fists at the heavens for didn't up and disappear (Hansen, Higgins, hell even Hodgson). Where the goalie we've defended with raw fingers on the keyboard into the wee morning hours (oh, was that just me?) has continued playing with ice water in his veins.
Makes for a fine story, but they've won nothing yet. The biggest game of the season - two years in the making - is right now against an opponent running on fumes and pride. As we're fond of saying: the shit's never easy.
Bolland is a boost, but one heavily draped in questions concerning health and game readiness. Bickell & Johnson are a concern for Raymond and Lapierre, not much else. But Seabrook? You can't replace that, forcing John Scott back into relevancy and Quenneville to spread 24+ minutes (more TOI than any single Canucks defenseman) around a group where arguably Keith is already playing too much, Campbell and his one working leg have a spiffy -4, Hjalmarararsson who was stapled to the bench in the third period of game one and Campoli. The ice may be so tilted against Vancouver in the opening 20 minutes the magnetic poles reverse, but if Chicago doesn't scamper away with the lead, you'll see some mighty tired legs trying to starve off a third-period collapse.
You know, sometimes I amaze even myself.
- Han Solo, Episode IV
Strike early, strike late, strike often. No one listen to Wedge; my understanding is the target area is two meters wide and a precise hit will set off a chain reaction.