CrashingTheGoalie

by desertdawg

I remember when they announced that the North Stars were moving to Dallas and it seemed that, outside of about 12,000 local fans, no one seemed to care. The answer to every query was, well, Minnesota has College Hockey and the best high school hockey tournament in the world. Who needs professionals?

Minneapolis itself is a surprisingly cosmoplitan city. It has a great University and teaching hospital, an active arts community and of course, The Mall Of America…so big you can actually see Sarah Palin’s front door from the top of LegoLand.

Oh yeah, and Prince.

I have to tell you, with all the accolades that the movie Purple Rain received, I just can’t get the scene, where Prince has a slap fight with his step father, out of my mind. Gretzky fighting Neal Broten had more testosterone.

Who’s the bitthh now, bitth!!!

So let’s get all our excuses out before the game. Our blueline has been decimated by injury and influenza. Back to back games in two different time zones. Our backup goalie playing…wth a neck strain! Against a Wild Team that is as relentless as the Zombies in The Evil Dead.

But we never go against the 1 ^st Hockey Commandment that Moses skated down the mountain with:

Thou shalt not complain about the referees.

And they make that tough in the first period. I mean Shane O’Brien gets the extra two minutes for slashing? Ignore the injustice boys and use it as motivation.

There is a way to beat the Wild, and Coach V. happens to know what it is.

Vigneault was a marginal player, therefore a student of the game. Jacques Lemaire was not a marginal player. He was actually quite brilliant (just ask Guy Lafleur all you Chuck fans) but also a student of the game.

The way to beat the Wild, is to play like the Wild.

Very Zen.

We are the Wild.

Okay, but it’s not that much of a stretch. The first period, where conventional wisdom says the team travelling in back to backs will have trouble getting their legs going, is a wash, largely because we switched from being the offensive powerhouse, to becomming the patient, defense-first, short-passes-to- heaven type of team that Jacques imagines in the privacy of his boudoir.

By himself, of course.

So it zzzzzero, to ahhh, zzzzzero after the first.

By the way, making Kerry Frazer wear a helmet is redundant. Have you seen that hairdoo recently? Kerry’s doo was given a five star, crash safety rating by Consumer Reports. At this point, as Seinfeld said…he’s protecting the helmet.

The second period defies conventional wisdom again. You know, the stuff that says, you must get the first goal against the Wild. Because if they score first, they play a defensive game that is impenetrable.

But Miko Koivu comes in on the left wing and wires a shot past Sanford. Man, I’ve seen that goal before and so have you. Shrug it off.

And just as the Wild are settling in to their role of easy victors, Steve Bernier suddenly comes alive and buries the worst chance he’s had in seven games. Even looked like he meant to do it. We’re tied, but more importantly, we seem loose, almost in charge.

The refereeing suddenly catches up to reality and we get a PP. And Shorty details the stats for John Garrett. The Wild haven’t scored shorthanded. The Canucks have not allowed a shorthanded goal.

If that’s not a curse, then I turn in my membership to the Santeria/Voodoo/Chicken Gumbo Society. And of course, Miko Koivu gets a bounce from Baby Jesus and the Wild score their first shorthanded goal of the season.

Hello, Koivu.

I wonder if Matty Ohlund would consider another half dozen game suspension.

Okay, we got lucky on the Bernier goal. But no one ever comes back twice against Minney. Lemair had it written into his contract. And then Demitra shoves it in their face and we are tied up. Talk about déjà vu. And Jacques is seen to wipe his mug and mutter something out of a Joseph Conrad novel.

The horror…the horror.

Somehow, we not only come out of the period tied up, we look relaxed…almost as relaxed as the Edmonton Oilers out of the playoffs and putting together a win streak in March.

And the third period shows what a team is.

They play for each other. Here’s a guy, Curtis Sanford, who only gets to practice. He knows that he will only play seven maybe eight games this year. And like I said at the beginning…all of our excuses are lined up. Flu, back to back, different time zones, and of course, the Minnesota Wild. One of the best teams in the NHL…

…who curiously come out flat in the third period.

It’s like they know they will win, just keep pressuring these old Canucks…they’ll break. They always do. But I’ve been saying this since the beginning of the year. These are the new Canucks. These are the guys who trust each other. These are the guys that Gillis has been building into a team since the summer.
We just keep pushing the Wild back every time they pressure us. We chip it out and wait. Chip it out and wait. Our PP solves nothing, but the puck movement is a work of art.

They pressure us, we chip it out.

Until one memorable shift that finished at the 11:41 mark of the 3 ^rd period when the Pavol Sedin line paints a beauty. Shorty says that Backstrom over-committed on the play. But the fact is, Backstrom knows this guy. Pavol will shoot from anywhere. He has to play him.

Except this time.
Pavol spots his brother Daniel, whose slump is now a distant memory, and Daniel unleashes a one-timer into the far corner of the net, even though the net is virtually empty.

They show Jacques after the goal and he doesn’t disappoint. He unleashes his best Glenn Sather smirk. You can see the vein pulsing right through that Rogain-roughed forehead. Watch us now Canooks. Crush you! We will crush your puny heads.

So they pressure…and we chip.

And before we know it, there is seven seconds left and Daniel Sedin takes the best penalty of the game.

It’s over.

We out wild the Wild and solidify our hold on first place.

The Dawg’s 3 Stars.
1) Pavol Demitra…a goal and an assist against the old Lemaire regime.
2) Curtis Sanford…a win that his teammates wanted.
3) Miko Koivu…Hate him. Love to have him.

Unsung hero: Willie Mitchell…the other ex-Wild, who played with a temperature of 102 degrees and used his long stick and big body to continually ride the Wild outside his blueline…and get a key assist…and is now +14 on the season.