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That was just downright boring.
After two fantastic rounds, culminating with 3-of-4 series going to a seventh, deciding game, I guess I thought we'd be in for a treat. This is what the hockey world was waiting for—two blockbuster Conference Finals, right?
Wrong.
So wrong, in fact, that I, a hockey-loyalist, through strikes and lockouts, sighed and grumbled with the prospect of watching Game Five of the Red Wings-Blackhawks series.
At least it went into overtime.
And Zetterberg's visible fear of the Campbell Trophy provided me with some entertainment.
I guess I should have known better.
The Penguins-Capitals Game Seven defined anticlimactic, I suppose it was just a foreshadowing of lopsided hockey to come.
I knew, going into the Semis, that the 'Hawks didn't have a shot—I was just hoping that they'd put up a bit of a fight.
Marty Havlat, the team's best regular-season scorer and a powerhouse this postseason, decided to stay off of his skates after Niklas Kronwall sent him to another galaxy.
Nikolai Khabibulin's injury opened the door for Cristobal Huet, a gentleman who has never won a playoff series.
That's all she wrote.
Oh, and the Red Wings are a much more complete, well-seasoned team.
I really thought that the Carolina Hurricanes had a chance to advance; they looked a lot like a team of destiny.
With two upsets already behind them, why couldn't they notch another one?
Evgeni Malkin—that's why.
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