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Honestly, i wasn't looking for material guys, i was actually trying to find out the name of a song when a certain team scores and i came across this. ( BTW the song is crowd chant and it's awesome)
Talbot TKOs Philly
by Michael Menser Dell, Editor-in-Chief
Kid Crosby
photo by Matthieu Masquelet
Frank Pietrangelo flashing the leather to rob Peter Stastny. Mario Lemieux splitting the Minnesota defense to wreck Jon Casey. Jaromir Jagr dancing around the Chicago Blackhawks to whip a backhander behind Eddie Belfour.
Now another memorable moment can be added to the list.
Max Talbot head-butting Daniel Carcillo’s right hand.
Sure, Carcillo won the fight. But Talbot won the war.
With the Pens trailing 3-0 in front of a rabid Philly crowd, Talbot did what had to be done. He challenged Daniel Carcillo, he of the 22 fighting majors this season, to drop the mitts. And Carcillo, being no smarter than the average Philly fan, was all too eager to oblige, pounding Talbot to the ice with a series of right hands.
The Philly faithful ate it up. The victorious Carcillo skated to the penalty box and urged the dim-witted, unwashed masses to their feet, and they laughed and laughed and laughed, completely ignorant to the fact they’d been had.
If Carcillo just skated away and ignored Talbot’s invitation, the Flyers would no doubt be heading to Pittsburgh for a decisive Game Seven. The Pens were buried; they had dimes on their eyes. But Talbot wouldn’t let them die.
Inspired by their valiant fourth-line center, the Penguins stormed back for a 5-3 win that ranks among the most satisfying playoff victories in franchise history. And it’s all the sweeter since it hinged on a bone-headed, mouth-breathing stooge like Carcillo, the epitome of the Philly goon, winning a fight.
Irony is awesome.
Talbot’s sacrifice certainly wasn’t lost on Geno Malkin. The NHL’s leading scorer came out like a mission man on the very next shift, wheeling behind the Flyer net and powering his way in front for two cracks on goal. Ruslan Fedotenko jammed the loose biscuit under a sprawling Marty Biron to start the comeback. The goal came just 15 seconds after Carcillo’s apparent triumph.
Less than two minutes later, Mark Eaton whacked the puck out of midair to finish an odd-man break, and it was 3-2 faster than you could say, “Mark Eaton did what?!?”
Kid Crosby pulled the Birds even at 16:39 of the second. The play started innocently enough, with Bill Guerin skating wide on left wing and pushing a harmless backhander from the boards towards the cage. Kimmo Timonen somehow managed to butcher the puck, causing it to flip up in the air. Biron then whiffed with the glove, displaying the cat-like reflexes of a true No. 2 goaltender, and allowed Crosby to swat the puck home with that beloved straight blade of his. There was much rejoicing.
The rattled Flyers never recovered. It was comical watching the Orange and Black try and move the puck over the final 20 minutes. They showed all the composure of a bunch of back-biting weasels who have never won anything in their lives. So, yeah, it was pretty much what you’d expect.
Sergei Gonchar, who had been having a completely forgettable series, bagged the game-winner at 2:19 of the final frame, uncorking a laser rocket shot from the top of the right circle that devoured Biron.
Marc-Andre Fleury preserved the win with yet another miraculous pad save, this time kicking the left leg to stone Joffrey Lupul with 5:39 left on the clock. Has a goalie ever had more highlight-reel saves in one series? While Fleury was far from perfect, he stole Games Two and Four, and he turned in at least one head-shaker each night. That kid’s got the goods.
In a fitting end to the series, Crosby provided the coup de grace with a spectacular empty-net effort. Sid knocked aside a Jeff Carter pass at center and chased down the puck, putting his first shot off the side of the cage before gathering the biscuit with his glove, looping behind the net, and lighting the lamp on his second attempt.
The play exemplified the differences between the two teams. Crosby’s motor never stops. He busted his ass to steal the puck, and he never gave up on the play, even when he botched the initial shot.
Carter commits an egregious turnover and doesn’t seem to care. He just stands there and watches Crosby take off. Had Carter turned and skated right away, he would have been able to prevent Crosby from getting a second chance at the empty net. But Carter quit. That’s why the Penguins are the Penguins, and the Flyers are the Flyers.
See you next year, chumps.
Talbot TKOs Philly
by Michael Menser Dell, Editor-in-Chief
Kid Crosby
photo by Matthieu Masquelet
Frank Pietrangelo flashing the leather to rob Peter Stastny. Mario Lemieux splitting the Minnesota defense to wreck Jon Casey. Jaromir Jagr dancing around the Chicago Blackhawks to whip a backhander behind Eddie Belfour.
Now another memorable moment can be added to the list.
Max Talbot head-butting Daniel Carcillo’s right hand.
Sure, Carcillo won the fight. But Talbot won the war.
With the Pens trailing 3-0 in front of a rabid Philly crowd, Talbot did what had to be done. He challenged Daniel Carcillo, he of the 22 fighting majors this season, to drop the mitts. And Carcillo, being no smarter than the average Philly fan, was all too eager to oblige, pounding Talbot to the ice with a series of right hands.
The Philly faithful ate it up. The victorious Carcillo skated to the penalty box and urged the dim-witted, unwashed masses to their feet, and they laughed and laughed and laughed, completely ignorant to the fact they’d been had.
If Carcillo just skated away and ignored Talbot’s invitation, the Flyers would no doubt be heading to Pittsburgh for a decisive Game Seven. The Pens were buried; they had dimes on their eyes. But Talbot wouldn’t let them die.
Inspired by their valiant fourth-line center, the Penguins stormed back for a 5-3 win that ranks among the most satisfying playoff victories in franchise history. And it’s all the sweeter since it hinged on a bone-headed, mouth-breathing stooge like Carcillo, the epitome of the Philly goon, winning a fight.
Irony is awesome.
Talbot’s sacrifice certainly wasn’t lost on Geno Malkin. The NHL’s leading scorer came out like a mission man on the very next shift, wheeling behind the Flyer net and powering his way in front for two cracks on goal. Ruslan Fedotenko jammed the loose biscuit under a sprawling Marty Biron to start the comeback. The goal came just 15 seconds after Carcillo’s apparent triumph.
Less than two minutes later, Mark Eaton whacked the puck out of midair to finish an odd-man break, and it was 3-2 faster than you could say, “Mark Eaton did what?!?”
Kid Crosby pulled the Birds even at 16:39 of the second. The play started innocently enough, with Bill Guerin skating wide on left wing and pushing a harmless backhander from the boards towards the cage. Kimmo Timonen somehow managed to butcher the puck, causing it to flip up in the air. Biron then whiffed with the glove, displaying the cat-like reflexes of a true No. 2 goaltender, and allowed Crosby to swat the puck home with that beloved straight blade of his. There was much rejoicing.
The rattled Flyers never recovered. It was comical watching the Orange and Black try and move the puck over the final 20 minutes. They showed all the composure of a bunch of back-biting weasels who have never won anything in their lives. So, yeah, it was pretty much what you’d expect.
Sergei Gonchar, who had been having a completely forgettable series, bagged the game-winner at 2:19 of the final frame, uncorking a laser rocket shot from the top of the right circle that devoured Biron.
Marc-Andre Fleury preserved the win with yet another miraculous pad save, this time kicking the left leg to stone Joffrey Lupul with 5:39 left on the clock. Has a goalie ever had more highlight-reel saves in one series? While Fleury was far from perfect, he stole Games Two and Four, and he turned in at least one head-shaker each night. That kid’s got the goods.
In a fitting end to the series, Crosby provided the coup de grace with a spectacular empty-net effort. Sid knocked aside a Jeff Carter pass at center and chased down the puck, putting his first shot off the side of the cage before gathering the biscuit with his glove, looping behind the net, and lighting the lamp on his second attempt.
The play exemplified the differences between the two teams. Crosby’s motor never stops. He busted his ass to steal the puck, and he never gave up on the play, even when he botched the initial shot.
Carter commits an egregious turnover and doesn’t seem to care. He just stands there and watches Crosby take off. Had Carter turned and skated right away, he would have been able to prevent Crosby from getting a second chance at the empty net. But Carter quit. That’s why the Penguins are the Penguins, and the Flyers are the Flyers.
See you next year, chumps.
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