Saturday, January 9, 2010

Game Day: DET @ SJ 1/9//10*

*Alternate title: I'm A Big Slacker

Well, I was going to recap the LA game yesterday, but everyone else did it before me and quite likely better than I would have, so that's my excuse. I plan to stick with it. But I will just throw in here, that James Howard rocked it hard.

And I had some ideas for some interesting (to me...who else reads these?) posts in the next week or so, but I have a book deadline currently biting me in the ass, so they'll have to wait. In the meantime, the best I can do is my lame wish list preview.

Tonight, I wish:
  • That Jimmy will continue to justify Babcock's faith in him and to stoke the fires of bitter resentment in Ozzie's heart. Maybe that will mean Oz comes out and throws the kind of game he's capable of the next time he gets to see the net
  • That Hank scores, thus demonstrating that he's not letting some gritty Newfie show him up by coming off an injury hotter than him
  • That Bertuzzi goes back to scoring ridiculous goals instead of taking ridiculous penalties (sorry, Petrella!)
  • That Leino counts as more than a waste of ice so I can finally eat my words about him (don't think I'm going to skip dinner waiting for that to fill me up, though) Ha! apparently Uncle Mike has as much faith in the Finnish Flop as I do. He's apparently not skating tonight
  • That our defense actually plays defensively and responsibly someplace other than directly in front of Howard. I appreciate the effort in that space, but I'd like to see it expanded a little bit
  • That Nick Lidstrom will play a game that will keep me from squinting at him and asking anyone in hearing distance, "Does he look hurt to you? I think he looks hurt. Do you think he looks sore?"
  • That Darren Helm once again scores and makes me shout "Oh, you beautiful baby boy!" at the TV like the dirty cougar he makes me feel like
  • That NO ONE ELSE GETS INJURED
  • Final Score?  DET 3 - SJ 2
I'm not naive enough to think this one will be anything but ugly, but I'm optimistic (and masochistic) enough to think that if we work hard, we can grind it out.

Go Wings.

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