It appears that Space Cadet Ilya Bryzgalov has achieved liftoff.
I have to wonder if he wasn’t rattled by the WC as well. Coming from a more hockey-casual Phoenix, and seeing 46,000 people out there … and 46,000 chanting devoted fans cheering a bunch of senior citizens playing the hockey equivalent of slow pitch … could have been a bit intimidating. Plus, he seems to run at the mouth when he talks, and the media seems to like to prod him into doing it, unsurprisingly. As long as he buttons it, does his job, and uses the pronoun “we” more often, I think they’ll gel well.
I’m stopping just short of saying that someone should take his car keys away from him, though. No, it’s not funny. It’s not meant to be.
Lots of junk going on at work lately — a great deal of high-stress road travel next week that will require that I leave my kitty almost for four solid days, so music has been at absolute zero lately. I’ve got a few things on the burner, and I’m getting tired of slugging on all of them with no end in sight. Yet, if I relax on any of them, I’ll lose whatever grip I’ve got. I need to record them to keep them in my ear, and just take a break from them all, I think. I just so want to finish another one, and maybe two more … and start really woodshedding on my own pieces instead of other people’s. It would be wonderful to have a nice list of my own stuff to pop off at a moment’s notice, and really do it up well.