One To Go

Washington had five power play goals last night. Five. Look at the score and I’ll tell you where the problem lies. Okay, one of the problems. One of the many problems. Can you say, “Penalty kill”? Better yet, can you see penalty kill?? On the rare occasions when they are short-handed (the refs are blind), Washington’s PK is fully present. Philadelphia’s is non-existent.

My nephew remarked on the weekend that he’s only watched about ten minutes of playoff hockey this year. I almost replied, “So have I, and I’ve watched two games in their entirety!”

Make that three. As of last night, the Flyers are poised for the golf course. All that stands between them and a first round departure is Wednesday’s game.

My older sister and I had a conversation at coffee a couple of week ago. At that point, the Flyers were fighting to nab a wild card spot and the Canucks were long gone. Big Sis said something about not watching the playoffs due to lack of interest. I responded with something like, “I’ll stick with it for as long as the Flyers do.” She said, “Four straight and you’re done, eh?”

She’s a riot.

But seriously, folks, last night’s loss was painful. The lads gave up in the third. After the Caps’ fourth goal, they got hit with a five minute major and left their hearts on the bench for the rest of the game. The fans were booing and earned the team another minor penalty for tossing stuff on the ice – regrettably, the bracelets that were handed out in memory of Mr. Snider, to whom they had paid respects in a pregame ceremony. Philly fans have a worse reputation for bad behaviour than the team they support. Mind you, they were given nothing to cheer about last night. Sure, the Flyers scored in the first minute … and then the Capitals took over. Penalties got us in the end, but I also believe that the officials have not helped. Philly can’t buy a break in that regard – which is why developing a watertight penalty kill should be a top priority. Clearly, it isn’t. I watched four guys standing in a cluster, screening their own goalie, while the Washington power play went all Harlem Globetrotters with the puck for more than five frigging minutes. No challenge, no pursuit of the puck, no nothing. I was practically screaming, “Are you a hockey team or an oil painting?!”

Augh!

So now I’m stuck between cockeyed optimism (of course they can come back; nothing is impossible!) and the cold reality that this Washington team is too big, too talented, and has too good a goalie. Despite anything being possible, my guys may not be able to beat them.

I guess we’ll find out for sure tomorrow.