Coming down off last night...

So I tried to write a post on the Bruins' 5-1 thrashing of the Canadiens last night. I really did. And all that came out was "!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Last night was amazing. Last night was the kind of game that rewards true fandom, where the heavens seem to be smiling down and handing you a moment of pure glory to make up for all those regular-season losses to Montreal; for that 10-2 drubbing by the Caps; for that end-of-the-season slump that threatened to knock us out of playoffs contention altogether.

If (when?) we win this series, the crux of it all will be the second goal of the third period, when team captain Zdeno Chara unleashed his laser beam of a slap shot on a slowly crumbling Carey Price to score his first goal of the post-season and put the B's up 3-1. In baseball, the "go-ahead run" is the run that gives a team the lead; last night, though, it was Chara's goal that served as the true go-ahead, spurring an absolute frenzy of Bruins offensive activity that would ultimately result in 2 more goals before the final buzzer rang. That goal, coupled with a phenomenal save by Tim Thomas (31 saves on the night) immediately beforehand, represented an unbelievably crucial shift in momentum in the game and possibly the series as a whole. You could SEE the crowd at the Bell Center Centre settling into their seats, stunned and in disbelief. As Jack Edwards put it: they had come there to witness an execution. No chance, Habs fans. Montreal was out-skated, out-shot, and simply out-played in the 3rd period. The final goal of the night, drilled from the left wing by rookie Vladimir Sobotka, in whom Claude Julien has placed a tremendous amount of faith this post-season, saw little more than a wince from Price. The rookie goalie appeared to have simply melted down under the barrage of Bruins shots, prompting Andy Brickley to label him "flappable" (get it? As opposed to "unflappable"? Eh, I'm not really buying it either). Whatever adjective you choose to describe Carey's performance last night, there's no question that the Bruins had finally gotten to him.

A sampling of the text messages I got last night:

That was.......wow

Pinch me this is too good

and the oh-so-eloquent

Holy shit !!!!

Game six tomorrow, kids. This shit's about to be epic. GO BRUINS!


Oh, the Red Sox beat the Yanks too. Sweet!

Unedited Wikis Do Not Love The Fenway

For no reason at all, I was playing around on Povo today, which is a wiki page of information about the beautiful city of Boston. In clicking around the information about my own neighborhood, "Boston's fashionable Back Bay neighborhood," I happened to stumble across a rather vitriolic review of -- what else? -- the T station near me (scroll to the bottom of that page to read the review, unless it's been removed already).

Hynes Convention Center/ICA Station

The Back Bay T Stop on the Orange Line, near Copley Square is also a convenient stop to access the Back Bay as it is just to the south of Copley Square, and approximately halfway between Arlington Street and Massachusetts Avenue. In this area, you'll find plenty of red sox fans, wearing the uniform, with their beer bellies and whorish wives, and bratty kids. If you tell that the red sox suck dick, you'll probably get beaten to death. Your best defense from the mindless mob of drunken mediocrity is to stay inside on game days. Traveling in backbay on game days is dangerous for non-conformists. Good luck.

My goodness. I mean, I've got my issues with the Hynes stop too -- the Boylston Street entrance is always closed, which is massively inconvenient to me, and there are always like 300 Berklee students carrying things like upright basses and harps onto already-packed cars. But this isn't the stop for Fenway Park, dude. That's Kenmore, or Fenway if you feel like stopping at Bed Bath and Beyond first. Do we think this person is a Yankees fan? If so, has (s)he seen the guts in the upper levels of Yankee stadium? Perhaps (s)he is merely opposed to the shackles of traditional family structure. Yeah, there's nothing I hate more than the sight of a family enjoying America's Pasttime together either, brah.

I think I like the idea that "Traveling in backbay on game days is dangerous for non-conformists" the best. It's like Yawkee Way is actually Tiananman Square or something. "In Red Sox Nation, baseball watches YOU!"

Paul Pierce deserves this

"I was on my way to the airport last year at this time."

We can pile the Player of the Week honors on Kevin Garnett. We can laud Doc Rivers as the Eastern Conference Coach of the Month. (Actually, no we can't, because I don't want any part of that, but you can do whatever makes you happy, pumpkin.) But the person I personally was happiest to see strolling out of the Garden following the Celtics' 66th and final win of a spectacular regular season was Paul Pierce.

It's simply impossible not to love Pierce. He's not the kind of player you just like. You LOVE him. The 6-time All-Star has suffered through almost 10 goddamn years of Celtics ineptitude and disappointment. He came back from being stabbed 11 TIMES and needing subsequent lung surgery to emerge as the team's unquestioned leader. He's still responsible for the biggest 4th-quarter comeback EVER in the NBA Playoffs. He's the first member of the Celtics since Larry Bird to top 2,000 points in one season. As His Royal Shaq-iness so eloquently put it: Paul Pierce is the motherfucking truth.

It's been easy this year to get distracted by the visceral, hypnotic dance that is Kevin Garnett on the court or the breathtaking, buzzer-beating 3-pointers of Ray Allen. But behind it all, Paul Pierce is still the motherfucking truth. He's averaging 19.6 PPG with 4.5 assists over 80 of 82 games this season. Moreover, he's looked so freaking HAPPY at every game this year. The beaten, hangdog look Pierce used to wear on the sidelines belied the ferocity of his play; watching him in years past, it's been almost impossible to understand how he continued to play the way he did for a team that was so obviously holding him back from the championships he deserved. Not this year, though. Pierce's enjoyment of his new team has been evident every step of the way. He'd physically slimmed down with the intent of becoming a more effective defender in the offseason, but there was a mental lightness in his step as well. The Truth doesn't always have to hurt. The Truth had been set free.

The Big Three weren't in for much of last night's win; their lone appearance was a 3rd-quarter cameo that wound up being less than impressive as they allowed New Jersey to go on a 17-4 run. But there's no question that they will be the explosion that everybody turns to watch when the playoffs kick off on Saturday. And nobody will be happier than Paul Pierce to be at the center of that explosion.

And, just 2 weeks ago, he became a daddy.

Congratulations, Celtics, and congratulations, Paul Pierce. You've earned your way here. Now show 'em what you've got.

A screencap is worth a thousand words

(from Boston.com)

Starting off with a bang!

The long-anticipated (by me, anyway) debut of Red Sox SS/3B prospect Jed Lowrie at Fenway Park last night was nothing short of dazzling. Yippee! First singling Jacoby Ellsbury home in the 5th and later knocking in two with bases loaded in the 7th, Lowrie was responsible for all three Boston RBIs on the board until a pinch-hitting Jason Varitek knocked in a solo homer in the 9th to give the Sox the lead. Final score: Boston 5, Cleveland 3, "Lowrie" shirts to be worn by female bartenders at Whiskeys and Cask & Flagon 87.

No, I did not just put in a claim for Lowrie on the waiver wire in one of my leagues. What kind of silly gal would I be if I did that?




Charity time! I will be doing the Walk for Hunger on Sunday, May 4. If you'd like to sponsor me as I walk 20 miles around the city of Boston and raise funds to feed hungry families in the area, please shoot me an email.

Post-game thoughts: Game 4, Canadiens 1 Bruins 0

This game could have gone either way.

No, seriously. That's such a lame thing to say, I know. I ripped on my Colts fan roommate for a week after the Colts-Pats game this season for insisting upon that very same statement. "Sure, it COULD have gone either way... but it DIDN'T. BOOYAH!" Eh, I was young and reckless and we were in the throes of the best season in the history of professional football. Let it go.

But seriously: this game could have gone either way.

Game 1 against the Canadiens had most people around town singing gloom and doom. Yes, in a lot of ways, that game was nothing but ugly from a Boston fan's perspective. Montreal skated circles around us offensively, out-shooting us by a solid 2:1 ratio and ultimately beating us 4-1. For playoffs hockey, that's a thrashing. As the Globe's Kevin Paul Dupont wrote, "It had the look of the first day of school, the Bruins as students, the Canadiens as teachers."

Am I crazy? Somehow, I didn't walk away from that game as depressed as I should have been. I saw two things in that game that, despite the scoreboard, served to bolster the guarded optimism I'd previously indulged in. First, we shut the Habs' killer power play down, holding them 0-5 on the power play through 3 periods of play. Second, our goaltending was SOLID. I mean it. I've betrayed my undying admiration of Thomas' netminding style before; technically unconventional though it may be, it's dazzling and clutch when he's on. The question looming over the playoffs, obviously, was would he be on? And by god, Thomas was ON last Thursday. When you're getting absolutely rained on with shots the way he was, 4 goals are going to happen; Thomas still had 28 saves (including 7 out of 7 on power plays) on the night. That's hot, kids. That's playoffs hockey. That's a goalie.

Since that night in Montreal, the Bruins have stepped up like few would have believed. In game 2, we out-shot the Habs 39-31. We took another loss, sure, but it was clear that game 1 was far from being an indication of what was to come in the series. Thomas notched another 28 saves, and the Bruins looked ready to skate with the Canadiens for the duration of this round. Then, of course, came THE WIN: a dramatic Marc Savard (Savard is my current vote for MVP of this series, by the way) goal in OT to lift Boston over Montreal and blast the Bruins back into contention. The hugeness of that goal cannot be overemphasized. Years from now, that goal will echo in the minds of Bruins and Habs fans alike. Boom, bitch. WE'RE NOT GOING ANYWHERE.

Sigh. Then we had tonight. Again: THIS GAME COULD HAVE GONE EITHER WAY. This was playoffs hockey at its finest, as both teams flew back and forth across the ice and defensive lines on both sides fought back with all their might. So swift and clean was the play, in fact, that the 3rd period saw not a single penalty called. Lucic, in particular, was electric: he dominated the ice in Game 3 and squared off in in a ferocious physical game against Montreal's Mike Komisarek tonight. The goaltending, too, was spectacular. I've raved about Thomas, but a tip of the hat is certainly due to rookie goalie Carey Price, who's been unflappable in the net for Montreal. This game was as beautiful as hockey gets. The loss didn't feel like the punch in the face that Thursday night's did; it cut as sweetly and devastatingly as a blow from a saber. Series advantage: 3-1, Canadiens.

But we were there. We skated with them. We held them. We had 27 shots on goal to their 28. We played this game without Phil Kessel, without Patrice Bergeron, and with everything to lose. We played our asses off, and we emphatically showed Les Glorieux that we are not to be counted out. Say it with me now: THIS GAME COULD HAVE GONE EITHER WAY.

My point, ladies and gentlemen, is this: don't count us out yet. DON'T YOU FUCKING COUNT US OUT.

Plus, anyhow, any good Boston fan knows a 3-1 series deficit in the playoffs only means more games for us to watch.



Charity time! I will be doing the Walk for Hunger on Sunday, May 4. If you'd like to sponsor me as I walk 20 miles around the city of Boston and raise funds to feed hungry families in the area, please shoot me an email.

Congratulations, Evan!

Hotshot Tampa Bay rookie/my own personal anointed one Evan Longoria hit his first major league home run off Yankees reliever Brian Bruney at Tropicana Field last night. Nice job, Evan!


The run came in the 7th amidst a veritable flurry of homers -- BJ Upton and Carl Crawford also went yard -- and tied up the game at 7, which is pretty exciting given that the Rays had been down 7-2 heading into the 7th. Sadly, Robinson Cano being what he is, the Yanks went on to win the game 8-7 behind a classic 4-out Mariano Rivera save. I have to imagine that sending in Rivera to close at this point is like using up the last of a bottle of lotion, where you keep shaking it and shaking it trying to get the last little bit out, and your sister keeps asking, "Why didn't you just buy more?" and you keep saying "NO dammit I KNOW THERE'S STILL SOME LEFT," and enough comes out that you feel justified in not having gone out to buy more but secretly you know you were just being lazy because you didn't want to miss the first half of "Rock of Love."

SIGH.

Fun fact: Longoria has been dubbed "The Dirtbag" by the Rays Index because of his aggressive playing style and the mascot of his college baseball team: the Long Beach State Dirtbags. Somehow, it's not as catchy as, say, "The Ignitor" or "The Hoosier Thunderbolt," but I guess we can run with it.