Everything Else

Will There Be Enough Water?

By 2257

Ok. Guess we’re going to have to drop the Kesha songs as titles. Shame, I was really enjoying it.

It’s important to make the difference clear between concern and panic. Concern is completely warranted, as losing the first two games at home and not scoring a goal in the process certainly is a new trick for the Hawks and ups the degree of difficulty to a level that will surely impress the Ukrainian judge. A lot of concern is fine, too. Watching the Hawks come up with a stale beer fart in a spot we’re used to seeing them respond is jarring.

But panic? C’mon. The Hawks lost their first two home games last year too, and pushed that to a Game 7 that they lost by the width of two posts. Sure, that series being a loss isn’t exactly something you’d draw inspiration from. And in their comebacks in the past, they rarely had to start them on the road. So again, a new trick. But it’s not like the Preds have picked some secret underbelly here. So let’s try and clean it up and see what’s what.

Everything Else

Blah Blah Blah: Predators at Hawks Game 2 Preview/Rug Cleaning

By 1743

 vs. 

Preds lead 1-0

PUCK DROP: 7pm Central

TV: NBC 

WHY DID YOU KILL THAT BIRD, ASSHOLE?: On The Forecheck

Projected Lineups

It’s almost as if it’s scripted these days. We’ve seen it before. Whatever playoff game the opponent simply packs it in their zone, traps just outside the offensive blue line, crowds their own crease, and we hear all the same things from the Hawks and the media covering them. “Traffic.” “Take away his eyes.” “Be harder (PHRASING).” “Annette Frontpresence.”

And it’s not that all of this is wrong. It’s just that you wouldn’t hear any of it if Anisimov isn’t rusty and buries one or two of his chances, or a shot into that said traffic bounces onto someone’s stick or past Rinne. It’s not like the Hawks have to make massive changes, and we don’t know if the Predators will or not either.

Everything Else

Boots & Boys: Predators 1 – Hawks 0 (Preds lead series 1-0)

By 1755

Box Score

Natural Stat Trick

In the aftermath of this one, and even really during it, I saw a lot of citing of how much time the Hawks had off, combined with not even really trying in the last week, and how bad they are when they get a lot of rest. I don’t know that this is really a viable excuse. After all, the Preds had to keep trying throughout the season and they capped it off by losing to the fucking Jets. But we’ve been down this road with the Hawks before, including against this very team seven years ago. The Hawks are rarely totally sharp in a Game 1 in the first round, and couldn’t save this one tonight even though it was sitting there like a pig on a spit. The Preds almost certainly won’t be so lucky next time.

But we did learn some things tonight.

Everything Else

We R Who We R – Nashville Predators Playoff Preview: Goalies And Defense

By 1561

As is tradition here, we will break up our preview over two days. I’ll take the back end today, because most tend to think I’m a horse’s ass, and then Matt will be around tomorrow to take you through the forward group. So let’s dive right in before they drain the pool, shall we?

Goalies

Pekka Rinne: 31-19-9, 2.42 GAA, .918 SV%, .929 EV SV%, .862 SH SV%

Ah yes, this old thing. You remember this. The Hawks have only faced one other goalie three times in the playoffs, and that would be Roberto Luongo. He was able to turn the tables on the Hawks at the third time of asking, but the 2011 team is not this team and the Predators are not the ’11 Canucks. When we first did this dance in 2010 it was a little scary facing Rinne, but then the Hawks punted him to a .911 over six games and won. In 2015 Rinne’s limitations were already well known to everyone, and while Crawford and then Darling took their turns swallowing mouthwash, Rinne couldn’t take advantage and put up a .909 over six games and was once again sent home. There’s no reason to think this will go any differently.

Everything Else

A Spring Of Trepidation

By 1398

Let’s start this with a story, one that exemplifies how childish, petty, and vitriolic being a sports fan can be. But hopefully, if you work out these kinds of emotions in this arena, you don’t apply them to the rest of your life where people close to you  might get hurt. I said, “hopefully.”

It’s the Winter Classic at Wrigley. You may not remember, but as the Hawks had exploded on the scene in November and December, they had actually crawled to within four points of the Wings for first in the division. They faced two games against them, one in the Joe and the Winter Classic. Those of us who weren’t quite in tune with our senses thought this was the moment to really fire off a warning shot. I had launched the C.I. two months before, and was still sleeping on my father’s couch while it took hold.

You might recall that the Hawks got completely pantsed in Detroit, and it wasn’t much better at the Winter Classic. The Hawks got taught a lesson on what it would take to be where Detroit was and how much farther they had to go. But that’s not the point here.

Everything Else

Could You Try To Try, Comcast Sportsnet Chicago?

By 1652

Hey there, CSN. I know you know me. I give you a lot of shit on Twitter. I don’t particularly want to, though I’ve come to appreciate it. But I wouldn’t have to if you didn’t really suck at the one thing you’re supposed to do, which is present sports. Sometimes it’s little things. Like how the filters on your cameras still make it look like the Hawks are playing in a garage. Or how you regularly don’t have the right replay angle for whatever Eddie O is blabbering about (Eddie O blabbering isn’t really your fault, but I sometimes take it out on you). Or your occasional tendency to have someone who knows nothing about hockey on your hockey coverage.

Sometimes it’s bigger stuff. Like the way you fired Josh Mora for doing his job (full disclosure: Josh is a close friend). Or the whole Susannah Collins debacle, though I know that was driven by the Hawks themselves and you just carried out their wishes. Or your insistence on putting Bobby Hull on my screen, when it’s pretty well known that Hull is a human hemorrhoid.

And yet you dig the hole deeper.

Everything Else

One More Special Message To Go: Hawks at Kings Preview/Estate Sale

By 1313

 vs. 

RECORDS: Hawks 50-23-8    Kings 38-35-7

PUCK DROP: 5pm Central

TV: CSN

HEY REMEMBER WHEN THEY MATTERED?: The Royal Half

Yeah, you know what? I’m not even going to bother with the normal preview. It’s the last game, neither of these teams are going to give the faintest of fucks, we have no idea who’s going to rest and who isn’t, and it’s an occasion best left to simply get out of the way before the Hawks can move on to the things that matter and the Kings can move on to figuring out… well, to figuring it out.

Everything Else

Bicks

By 2565

It always feels a little silly to say your heart is breaking watching millionaires, but there are instances where if it didn’t you’ve become pure granite on the inside. In this case, it’s watching someone whose whole life has revolved around one thing having that one thing simply taken away from him, and I doubt there’s an amount of money in the world that can make one at peace with that. If you didn’t see Bryan Bickell after last night’s game, you may want to seclude yourself before watching:

Everything Else

Nothing But A Lotta Talk And A Badge: Hawks 0 – Ducks 4

By 1459

I bet before Quenneville decided to rest everyone that matters save The Fun Boys and Kruger and a handful of others–and if the Hawks’ cap space and travel situation would have allowed it they would have iced the entire Hogs team–he looked ahead and saw that the Hawks would be playing a game that didn’t matter to them but did matter to the Ducks. And once he saw that I’m sure he knew that this game was going to involve a far too high level of bullshit that there would be no reason to subject his veterans to. I’m sure he told Toews that he can’t risk putting him out there to deal with any Kesler ridiculousness and losing him for any game that matters. Don’t need any of the top three d-men taking Perry slashes to the ankles, and so on.

And so it played out, the Ducks proving why they would be the most detestable organization in the league if anyone every bothered to remember they exist. This is a team that’s now won it’s division five straight seasons, and do you even give a shit? Of course you don’t, because it never matters in the end. The only time you think about them is when they prove time and time again that the lessons they learned from winning in 2007 have nothing to do with the two Hall of Famers they had on the blue line, the real reason they won. They’re still under the impression that GRIT and HITZ and TOUGHNESS and FAAAARRRRTTTT is currency in this league, which is how they end up re-hiring a giant pimple who can’t make toast as coach.

Everything Else

Pretend We’re Dead: Hawks at Avs Preview/Ropes Course

By 1259

 vs. 

RECORDS: Hawks 50-22-7   Avalanche 1-786-2

PUCK DROP: 8pm Central

TV: CSN

DON’T CRY FOR THEM FOR THEY ARE ALREADY DEAD: Mile High Hockey

PROJECTED LINEUPS

ADJUSTED TEAM CORSI %: Hawks – 50.8 (13th)  Avs – 46.2 (29th)

ADJUSTED TEAM xGF%: Hawks – 49.5 (18th)  Avs – 46.0 (29th)

POWER PLAY %: Hawks – 18.3 (18th)  Avs – 12.7 (Dead Ass Last)

PENALTY KILL %: Hawks – 77.7 (25th)  Avs – 76.5 (29th)

I’m not sure that since we started doing this there’s a more meaningless game than this one tonight. It’s been rare that the Hawks have everything so cinched up so early. There was 2013 where they really didn’t give a fuck about much in the last week and sent the Icehogs to play the Blues because thanks to the lockout their season was already over. 2010 saw them scrapping for the #1 seed overall until the last day of the season. The past two seasons have seen them pretty well entrenched in third but there was the hope that they could get higher. This is merely running out the clock.

And across the ice they’ll see one of the worst teams in the modern era, who have been waiting to bust out the golf clubs since about January. And not to actually play golf, but to repeatedly bash into their own skulls to see if they can still feel anything anymore.