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Listen, folks — was it pretty? NO. Was it perfect? NO. But guess what? They got the win! GAME ONE, Stanley Cup Finals, you’re at the Garden, national TV, prime time, and the New York Rangers — they take down Chicago 7–5. You’ll take it every day of the week and twice on Sunday, alright?
Now, lemme tell ya somethin’. This game was nuts. The Rangers come out, first inning, boom — B. Sattler, gone, solo shot. Then they stack three homers in the second — Bliebernicht, Rice, Escandon. Back-to-back-to-back? No! But close enough. It’s 5–1, the Garden’s rockin’, you think, “This one’s over.” WRONG. Chicago hangs around.
Ron Hextall — ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! The guy’s a shortstop hitting .493 in the playoffs, four hits tonight, two doubles, a bomb. I don’t care if you’re from Chicago or Kalamazoo — you tip your cap. But it’s the sixth inning, two outs, Rangers up 5–3, Alex Gomez tries to sneak a curve past Mark Grubin — HA! Forget it. Upper deck, two-run shot, 7–3, ballgame. That’s the dagger.
Now, the pitching? Eh… S. Gi-Hun gets the win, but 108 pitches in five innings, 14 strikeouts, sure, but four walks, three runs, and he’s living dangerously all night. H. Wang comes in — gives up the bomb to Hextall. T. Vera? Traffic all over the bases. They’re playin’ with fire, I’m tellin’ ya.
But the bottom line is this — it’s the Finals, you’re up 1–0, you protected home ice, and you’re a step closer to the Cup. You clean up the bullpen tomorrow, you tighten the screws, but you gotta be happy you got this one in the bank.
Game 2? Tomorrow night. Same building. You take THAT one, and now you’re lookin’ at a stranglehold, okay? But Chicago? They’re too good — they’re not goin’ quietly.
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