the 4th star

Whoops. Nearly forgot one. New Jersey vs. Carolina. As I type this it’s 2-0 Devils. Like I said, this is the series no one gives a Florida rat’s butt about. Other than Dr. Ian Hudson, who apparently is a closet Meadowlands fan. Let’s see, split the first two and win all the home dates. Sounds like a plan. Hurricanes in six games.

Or not. Whatever. Read the title of the post again.

The hardest opening round series to pick has to be the Battle of Pennsylvania: Pittsburgh vs. Philadelphia. If this was the National Football League I’d pray to my God for both teams beat the crap of out each other so bad that neither can continue and both have to suspend operations indefinitely. That would really be great, actually.

But this isn’t football. This is hockey, and though I really want to take Mike Richards, I just can’t get over the Flyers’ last game of the season. You know what happened: At home. Against the New York Rangers. The Orange needs just one point to catch the Penguins and claim the home-ice advantage for this round of post season hockey.

They lose. Fall flat. And now they have to start on the road.

Don’t underestimate what that does to a club. It sticks around. Said disappointment, a sadness that cannot be solved by saying the right things to the media, will remain with the Flyers through the next five games. Yes, Pittsburgh in five games. Maybe six.

Want a more tangible reason to take the Pens? The Flyers just don’t have the goaltending to slow the Crosby-Malkin double play. It’s that simple. They don’t have it. Never have.

Whoa. Very, very late for Hump Day this hump day, as the slowest NHL playoff draft ever is still currently taking place through email. The afternoon email draft quickly falls apart as soon as someone a) has to write a story; b) attends a meeting; c) is asked to do some voiceovers; d) leaves the BlackBerry in the car.

So far I have Evgeni Malkin, Marian Hossa, Eric Staal, and Henrik Sedin. Still one guy to select. Hopefully, Daniel is still on the board. Or maybe I’ll take an American.

Went out to Scotia Street this afternoon, to check out the sandbagging efforts. Jessica Alba (above) was there, though I don’t think she was really dressed for the job. She couldn’t lift anything, not that anyone complained, of course. Turns out she could boost morale in other ways.

Game 4. Second intermission. His club down two goals heading into the third against the Chicago Blackhawks and the season hanging in the balance, Jerome Iginla stands up in the Calgary Flames room. Players, not used to having a full complement in the line-up thanks to gross mis-management by GM Darryl Sutter and coach Mike Keenan through the second half, stop talking. Others stop taping their sticks. Coaches, off in the corner, cease their game-planning and look towards No. 12.

The room is silent.

And so is Iginla. He hasn’t scored all series. He starts to cry. It wasn’t supposed to end like this. The Hawks will eventually win in four games, just like they dominated the Flames in the in the regular season (they were 4-0 against Calgary).

Over in the shower area is Olli Jokinen, whispering on his cellphone to reporters, is throwing every single teammate under the bus. Turns out Matt Barnaby was right, Iginla thinks as he sighs, looks back down at his skates, and wonders if this is what it feels like to be Ryan Smyth.