Last night, the bearded giant and I went to watch the Canes play on a very special night. Last night, they retired Rod Brind'Amour's number from the Canes. It is an amazing sentiment - no player who joins the team will ever wear #17 again. I wasn't ready for Brind'Amour to leave the team when he did. And after he'd left, I was hopeful that his knee injury would heal and that he'd come back and steer the team again. Not the case, of course. It was an emotional night and I was thankful that we were sitting next to some diehard hockey fans, but sad to be sitting in front of some douches who talked through the game and didn't know a thing about hockey.
I hate to be judgmental about the fans at Canes games. There are definitely the good, the bad and the ugly. Word to the wise: if you go on a night when they're honoring one of the most accomplished leaders that the team has ever had, you should probably just watch the game with reverence and shut.your.piehole.
That being said, it was an anxiety-inducing game where players who have been going through the motions stepped up, shaped up and looked great. Cole and LaRose were on fire last night. Skinner, who looks pretty green on the ice...and a little too graceful for my tastes, picked up the pace and seemed a bit in awe of Rod the Bod. They were all playing a little harder and their lines looked a little better. That being said, every time we had a Power Play, we blew it. Rather than shooting over and over again, we puttered around, taking our time and sometimes not even taking shots...
In the end, we prevailed 3-2 over the Flyers. And while sometimes winning matters, what mattered last night was that we got a little bit of the fire back.