Just When It Can Get No Worse

It gets worse.

I love Chico’s comment: “This team might not be together next year.” Of course they won’t be together next year, because short playoff runs are depressing.

Colin White: miss your guy, then reach instead of skating. And his guy was Carcillo. Kind of sums it up.

Mike Mottau: Three words: “Where’s my guy?” Three of the best words fans can hear: Unrestricted Free Agent.

No even strength or single man advantage goals. Too many uncontested shots. When Paul Martin doesn’t close the gap and pressure the guy coming in, you know the team is played conservatively, scared and badly. Sure, the officiating was inconsistent, but that can’t possibly be a factor when you can’t score, don’t skate, let the Flyers run rampant and look like you’re in cement. Another three power plays wouldn’t have mattered.

Yes, the Devils might win three in a row. But they’ve been so badly, badly outplayed in three of the last four periods of hockey, it’s hard to believe they can sustain nine good ones, including scoring some goals. I am not giving up hope, and I’ll cheer until the final horn of the last game of the season, but it would be nice for the Bubba to see the Devils actually produce in the playoffs before he goes off to college (their last 3rd round or better series was when he was completing the ever-challenging 2nd grade).

The good news, if there is good news, is that sharing defeat through sports brings families together. When we pass on fan loyalty to our kids, we give it to them as another form of genetic material that can make us grow as easily as it makes us susceptible to disease. We cheer, and share the pain when our teams lose, and find ways to console each other until the season starts again. I just really want the Devils to win another Cup before I am taking my grandchildren to games.

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