King Crosby

Sidney Crosby photo by Matthieu Masquelet

It’s been a few days, and I still haven’t had a chance to write anything about Pittsburgh’s beautiful Game Seven triumph. I truly believe it could have been the most satisfying victory in franchise history, Cups included. There was just so much at stake. Think how different the world would be today if the Capitals won?

From now until the end of time, we would have suffered the ignominy of corporate media pinheads spewing forth their collective stupidity in praise of Alexander Ovechkin. The annoying Caps fans, who have never won anything in their lives, would have tasted victory and been all the more insufferable for it.

Thankfully, those days are solid gone.

Ovechkin had his chance. He had the series on his stick. And for the second consecutive year, he didn’t come through. Except this time, instead of dumping the puck in the corner, he actually took the shot, and Marc-Andre Fleury told him to sit down.

Crosby responded a few minutes later with his first of the game, deftly taking Sergei Gonchar’s point shot off his right skate and dumping it behind Simeon Varlamov. That wasn’t luck, people. Crosby meant to do that. He’s Pele with the boots.

But the best moment came in the third period. With the Pens up 5-1, Crosby swiped the puck from Ovechkin and had a breakaway from his own stripe, eventually beating Jose Theodore five-hole to put an exclamation point on his dominant performance.

The difference between Ovechkin and Crosby was painfully clear throughout the series. Ovechkin is a dynamic one-on-one player with an overpowering shot and little else. Crosby is the complete player. He works all three zones, he drives the net, he makes his teammates better, and he competes every second of every shift. He wills his team to excellence. And because Crosby plays the game the right way, the Penguins follow suit.

Washington’s wanton disrespect for the puck was reprehensible. The Caps couldn’t commit enough turnovers. And it starts at the top. Ovechkin is selfish, so why should his teammates be any different? He simply refused to get the puck deep and work. He carried everything. Gain the line and shoot or attempt a ridiculous individual effort. That’s it.

If Ovechkin won’t dump the puck, why should any of the other skill guys do it? The rate of the leader determines the speed of the pack. Ovechkin is selfish, so his team’s selfish. Ovechkin plays bad hockey, so his team plays bad hockey.

Appreciation for Ovechkin is inversely proportional to one’s hockey IQ. The less you know about the game, the more impressed you are with his obvious physical attributes.

Yes, Ovechkin’s a beast. A runaway locomotive with the puck, he can create a scoring chance from anywhere on the ice with his speed and power. But he’s not a complete player.

Ovechkin is a one-trick pony. Granted, that one trick is overwhelmingly good, like Houdini’s-Water-Torture-Cell good, but it’s still a flawed act.

Washington’s defeat was the only acceptable outcome. Now coaches and fathers alike can point to this series and teach the virtues of smart, diligent hockey. Play a selfish, individual game, and you go the way of the Caps. Play like Crosby, and you win in the end. And really, isn’t it all about the kids? Think of the children.

I’m not a fan of Sidney Crosby because I’m a fan of the Pittsburgh Penguins. I’m a fan of Sidney Crosby because I’m a fan of greatness. Look in his eyes. This kid is different. He was born to win Stanley Cups. Whether it happens this year or not is irrelevant. It’s his birthright. It’s his destiny.

Crosby’s better than you, and he can prove it. And if your name is Alexander Ovechkin, he just did.

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