Last night I felt a little like Christopher Nolan in the film Memento. I felt I was afflicted with a kind of short-term amnesia, unable to store new memories, and so to put everything together, to make sense of it all.
So strange was it, that not even in retrospect, with the benefit of hindsight, can any kind of coherent narrative be ascribed to this game.
Luongo lets in a bad first goal. Loungo makes a necessary third period breakaway save, but can’t manage to prevent Simmonds from scoring shortly after. Subsequent to allowing two more powerplay goals, the Canucks looked as trepidatious and psychologically afflicted as I’ve ever seen before – yet, and in the same game, Henrik Sedin scored a goal that was an example of pure will, confidence and fortitude. The team had some dominating shifts, while on others, it was clearly the victim of domination.
This lack of any kind of coherency is almost enough to induce schizophrenia.
Deep down, I can’t help but to think that this Canuck team is not one primarily in battle with an opposing team – it is in battle with itself. Not until that gets sorted out, can we begin to make sense of what we’re watching.