The Kings didn't win - the Devils lost (written by a Devils fan)
I want to stress that I am a die-hard Devils fan. But for the loss of the Cup this year, the Devils have no one to blame but themselves. The Kings are good. But not THAT good.
Quick is one of the best goalies playing today, but was perfectly beatable.
Let me do a game by game breakdown.
Game 1 - scored in overtime on a completely preventable breakaway.
Game 2 - the team just let Carter circle around like he was doing circus tricks.
Game 3 - The Devils did absolutely nothing right and played one of the worst games of playoff hockey I’ve ever seen - every goal was their fault. Couldn’t even score on that extended 5 on 3.
Game 4 - Only well played game.
Game 5 - Still decently played, but allowed WAY too many turnovers.
Game 6 - when six goals are scored, you can only blame yourself.
Throughout the series, the Devils continuously allowed breakaways, including about six or seven alone in game 3. None of them shot above the pads or even tried for a rebound until game 4. The cup should have been personally handed to Dustin Brown by the NJ Devils defense.
I’m proud of what the Devils did this season. I’m proud how they bounced back after MacLean ruined the team. I’m glad they knocked out the Flyers and especially the Rangers. I only criticize because I love them, and there is always next season. But not how they played in the six games that mattered most.
“There is a curious paradox that no one can explain
Who understands the secret of the reaping of the grain?
Who understands why Spring is born out of Winter’s laboring pain?
Or why we all must die a bit before we grow again?
I do not know the answer, I merely know it’s true.
I hurt them for that reason, and myself a little bit too.”—
You wonder how these things begin.
Well, this begins with a glen.
It begins with a season
Which, for want of a better word, we might as call September.
It begins with a forest
Where the woodchucks woo and leaves wax green.
And vines entwine like lovers.
Try to see it—
Not with your eyes, for they are wise
But with your ears—
The cool green breathing of the leaves.
And hear it with the inside of your hand:
The soundless sound of shadows flicking light
Recall that secret place.
You’ve been there—you remember.
That special place
Where once, just once in your crowded, sunlit lifetime
You hid away in shadows from the tyrrany of time.
That spot beside the clover
Where someone’s hand held your hand
And love was sweeter than the berries or the honey
Or the stinging taste of mint.
It is September
Before a rainfall.
A perfect time to be in love.
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