How compelling were the first six games of the NHL Eastern Conference semifinals between the Penguins and the Capitals?
They were so compelling I wrote a column about them this week, and the first e-mail I received the following day about it started with, “You need to stick with a sport that you know a little more about ...”
You can never fool the reader — or a Red Wings fan. Still, I was flattered beyond end that this gentleman was under the assumption I knew anything about any sport at all, much less hockey.
How gripping were the first six games of the NHL Eastern Conference semifinals?
They were so gripping that two of my friends jumped me first thing Thursday with “How about those Penguins!” and a “Let’s go Caps!” that dripped with sarcasm barely before I could walk through the door.
Whatever happened to “Good morning,” or even “Hello?”
I don’t know if that bothered me because I really did find myself rooting for the Caps, or because those were the first seven spoken words I heard at a time of day (morning) I’m not so receptive to words being spoken to me. Yet I do actually believe I was bothered because I did find myself rooting for a team that had just lost a hockey game. A hockey series, of all things. A hockey series I had just followed in its entirety.
What has happened here? What’s going on? Has this sport actually grown on me? I’ve always liked hockey, particularly in person, but the first six games of this series did grow on me to the point that I didn’t want Game 7 to arrive. Which ended up being a pretty good hunch since Game 7 of this marvelously-played series that had speed, skill, athleticism, raw toughness, suspense, drama, blood and beauty on display throughout turned out to produce the most foul conclusion since “The Crying Game.” Not because the Penguins won, mind you; but because of the seemingly uncontested way in which they did it.
Having followed the Caps with one eye since the franchise’s inception, I’m well aware of Washington’s history of playoff collapse and futility at the hands of the Penguins. Still, I thought this Game 7 might be different: Different era, different players, different dynamic, different uniforms, different arena, different owner, different expectations.
Nu-uh. Same result. Same dashed hopes. Same old Caps.
But, no. They’re not the same old Caps. The bad news, of course, is even though the names, the faces and the arena (for one more year) are the same, they are still the Penguins — the Pittsburgh Penguins at that, once again playing with the pride, the grit, and the resourcefulness of the splendid old city they represent so fittingly.
Anybody paying attention over at PNC?
No, the Caps are different; they are better, and hope abounds. But this latest disappointment is no result of any kind of curse. It is the result of the Pittsburgh Penguins. They’re the constant. They must be; they beat the Caps every spring. Or at least it seems.
In some small ways, this is not unreminiscent of how the New York Yankees owned the Brooklyn Dodgers through the 1940s and 1950s when the Yankees beat the Dodgers in the World Series six out of seven times.
How? Why? Those Dodgers teams were so good. They were so great in every sense.
True. But the Yankees were just better.
Wednesday night’s win in Game 7 makes the Penguins 3-0 against Washington in Game 7s, and 7-1 in playoff series won, including four times after Washington held a two-game lead, leading us to draw the conclusion that the Penguins are and always have been just better.
It is true the Caps have won a playoff series against the Penguins, just as the ’40s-50s Dodgers did against the Yankees; but Capitals fans are still waiting for their 1955, when they finally get past their long-time nemesis and go on to win the Stanley Cup. And for the first time in franchise history, Caps fans truly believe their 1955 will arrive, just as it did for the Brooklyn Dodgers.
What was it they said in Flatbush?
Wait until when?
Mike Burke is sports editor of the Cumberland Times-News. Contact Mike Burke at mburke@times-news.com.
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