As I've often stated, back-to-back games always make blogging a tedious affair, so in the event you missed my plea for the WKR line to wake up, scroll your way on down and check it out.
There was less than six minutes left in last night's game between the Boston Bruins and New York Rangers. I'd had enough. Bored out of my mind, frustrated by their inability to do diddly squat, I rose to my feet and contemplated how my time could be put to better use. Knowing I still had a good half hour before the local Stop and Shop closed I thought "Hey! I could go buy shampoo!", as I was on the verge of running out.
How sad, borderline pathetic even, is that?
And just as I began to march toward the staircase, the Bruins scored a short-handed goal, finally squeaking one by goaltender Henrik Lundqvist. I mockingly laughed aloud. Really? Now they wake up? And just like that, they roped me back in. My venture out into the bitter cold for shampoo was halted as I sat back down.
Just a few minutes later, Blake Wheeler scored for the first time since before I excreted my Thanksgiving dinner to tie things up at two apiece. The Bruins' lack of effort and heart, their woeful PP, and their absolutely nonexistent flow in any zone actually made me feel empathetic toward the Rangers and their fans at MSG.
With under 90 seconds to play, Chris Higgins, who had yet to score a single goal on home ice in his first season with the Blue Shirts, tucked one by Tuukka Rask as the netminder abandoned his post prematurely. Game. Set. Match. The Rangers, deservedly, hung on for a 3-2 victory.
The analysts for Versus made commentary, make that excuses, that the Bruins might have been suffering a Winter Classic hangover. And here I thought that might've been a springboard, an indication of better things to come. Instead, the B's dogged it for nearly 55 minutes of play, showing little fight until sheer luck on a short-handed shot finally woke them up.
It was too little, too late. A deserved fate, as no team playing such a lifeless brand of hockey deserved a single point for such an abysmal showing. I still managed to go out and grab the aforementioned shampoo, but I wish I had done it an hour sooner. Last night's game was as dull as dull gets, boring with a capitalized spoked-B.
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An update on Patrice Bergeron's injury, courtesy of Kevin Dupont of the Boston Globe:
NEW YORK -- The Bruins hustled out of here tonight, 3-2 losers to the Rangers, and will play tomorrow night in Ottawa, but highly-valued center Patrice Bergeron stayed behind in a Manhattan hotel room and will return to the Hub today to have a hand injury--possibly a fracture--assessed by team doctors at Mass. General Hospital.
Bergeron was nailed on the right hand by a Dennis Wideman slapshot early in the second period, returned to the bench briefly, then disappeared for the night.
''Let's put it this way, if he's not back, we've lost our best player since the beginning of the year,'' said coach Claude Julien, confirming that it was the shot to the hand that knocked Bergeron out of the action, ''that sums it up right there.''
If Bergeron sustained a fracture, be it to the hand or wrist, he likely would be lost for up to six weeks--the standard prognosis for such injuries. According to Versus, he underwent an X-ray at Madison Square Garden tonight, the results of which could have been the impetus for the club to send him back to Boston.
A fracture also would put in jeopardy Bergeron's participation in the upcoming Olympics, which begin in mid-February. He was named to the Canadian Olympic squad only last week.
JC
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