Near 10:00 last night I had a singing Little Orphan Annie stuck in my head:
The sun will come out, tomorrow
Bet your bottom dollar
That tomorrow, there’ll be sun
Jus’ thinkin’ about, tomorrow
Clears away the cobwebs and the sorrow
‘Til there’s none
Annie, though generally not commonly channeled for her thoughts on the Stanley Cup playoffs, was a red-head. And Cristobal Huet wishes it were merely cobwebs in his goal crease as opposed to a swarm of Philadelphia Flyers. Instead, there’s plenty of sorrow there.
Were Annie following this playoff series “tomorrow” for her wouldn’t refer to Thursday’s game 4 but rather next year, for the Caps. The Caps this April have some not-so-ready-for-prime-time players on their roster — including the planet’s greatest hockey player and most particularly his center. I also thought this last night: didn’t Sidney Crosby’s young (sorta) Penguins manage to win just one playoff game last spring against Cup-finalist Ottawa in their maiden postseason appearance as a rebuilt club?Â
Lest you think this is merely a 2-1 deficit for the Caps to climb out of, know this: of the series’ nine periods played the Flyers have been in thorough control for eight of them. They take penalties but pay no price for taking them, as their penalty killing acumen is elite. They are following their coach’s strategems perfectly. They are in synch. And they are in complete control of this series largely because they have experience in this mission.Â
Miracles can happen, and larger deficits in playoff series of course have been overcome (don’t we in D.C. know about that), but generally youth doesn’t serve them. You can just tell that Scott Hartnell’s been through this before. Ditto for Daniella Briere. And while Derian Hatcher is largely a pylon at this stage in his career, he’s a very springtime-tested one. Youth is being served in orange and black in the form of Mike Richards. What a stud.
In the interest of making it as tough as possible for the Flyers to prevail I would like to see Gabby tinker a bit more with his lineup. It was right to remove the overmatched Tomas Fleischmann and re-insert Eric Fehr. And I’m with JP: I’ve seen enough of John Erskine, and I want to see a heck of a lot more of Steve Eminger. Â
There is some good news for Caps’ fans this week: Alexander Semin, whom most in hockey thought would be brutalized by the Flyers’ aggression tactics in this series, is the Capitals’ best forward, and likely only to get better. Do you know how many hockey players there are on planet Earth who can stand on one leg and basically decapitate a well armored netminder?
This would be a more interesting series were warrior Chris Clark a part of it, but that’s spilled milk. No matter how healthy the Caps roster this spring, some brutally tough postseason lessons would have to be learned by the dozen in Caps’ sweaters who’d never participated in them. However aberrational 6-14-1 was last fall, it just isn’t the calendar season stuff of Lord Stanley. I suspect most Caps’ fans recognized this even in the delirium of last Friday night. ‘85 Villanova types generally don’t get their names etched on the Big Silver: that trophy requires eight weeks of excellence, not 40 minutes. And its winners overwhelmingly are comprised of players who’ve slogged through seasons’ worth of hockey’s springtime marathon — one that bears little resemblance to its regular season. Â
For Game 4 tomorrow I’m attending a late-afternoon Capitol Hill game-watch barbeque with a Sea of Red set under a forecast of springtime perfect skies. For a few minutes late last night I thought about a somberness settling in over our planned picnic, but my friends will read this and I trust be persuaded that tomorrow’s game, and however many more follow before we pack it in this hockey season, is an occasion to celebrate. We in hockeyWashington were orphans from postseason dreams present and future just last fall; now we’re mezzanine ticket holders headed toward orchestra seats.    Â





























