Goes together like... the Oilers and spoiled beer?

I think it was around the second goal, the one Rollie didn't even see, that D asked me if I wanted a beer. The answer was an emphatic yes, little knowing what kind of an Alanis Morrisette-style ironic was going to be served up with it. In a hockey game filled with spoiled chances, I discovered over the course of the next 30-odd minutes of play that I had come back from a lengthy holiday trip to a fridge stocked with spoiled microbrew, in a flourish straight out of indie-movie hell. One bottle after another was cracked open to discover it tasted like soy sauce, so I guess the Oilers metaphorically tasted like soy sauce too last night. To drag this awful comparison further, both the beer and my team were OK when I left for Alberta in December, but at some point for each I guess, something went terribly wrong even though, my bachelor's-in-English heart would like to add, both were kept well-chilled the entire time.

I'm done with that now. I promise.

I'm under the impression that NHL Center Ice is a better deal in the US than it is in Canada, in terms of pricing structure and what it includes. Maybe I'm totally wrong. But anyway, we get all of the Oilers PPV games, and I have to say I'm pretty glad we're not paying $13 each for them. From Gene Principe getting snubbed by the equipment guy (which I guess is at least some variation from his usual interview style of: Why is your team playing so badly? Uh huh. But, would you say that you're playing badly, and why?) to Rob Brown's constant and extremely disturbing leering at the camera and his broadcast partner, to the "my angry teenage kid did this on the computer!" style music they played with their interminable spinning logo or upcoming PPV games screen, one got the feeling that while one might be paying premium prices, one is not getting the A or even B broadcast team, so much as maybe the L team? The stuff with the little kids playing hockey was predictable filler, but undeniably cute. Disturbing however, was that Sam Gagner's mom did not look any older than the moms of the seven-year-olds in the featurettes. This supports my theory that Mr. Gagner cannot be older than 10, but I'm getting old and cranky, I know. Speaking of Mr. Gagner, what was up with that stupid poll on naming the line?

Beyond harping about PPV, what is there really to say about this game? They didn't play well enough to win. They made some stupid decisions. They tried, but it wasn't enough. I don't know how to fix them. I'll limit myself to this: I hope Moreau is okay--seeing that much blood on a jersey makes me highly distressed and gets me compensatorily chanting to myself, nothing bleeds more than a scalp or a lip, even if it's very superficial. What heart he played with--even after getting whacked like that--not leaving the ice until play stopped. For once the PPV team got something right, in saying "That's why he's the captain."

Heal up soon, Captain.