National Baseball League

[jg2977]

NATIONAL HOCKEY LEAGUE – SEPTEMBER 23, 2002
GOLDEN KNIGHTS 12, BLACKHAWKS 9
Game 2 – Western Conference Semifinals
By Jim Kaat

Well folks, if you like offense, this one had it in spades. On a cool night in Chicago — 53 degrees, light wind blowing in — the bats were red-hot anyway. We saw 21 runs, 22 hits, and a whole lot of crooked numbers on the board before Vegas walked away with a 12-9 victory over the Blackhawks, taking a 2-0 series lead.

Let me tell you, this was one of those games where you’re reminded just how important pitching and defense still are — and how quickly a ballgame can spiral if you don’t have either one working.

Big Inning Blows the Doors Off Early
The Blackhawks jumped out in front early with a pair in the bottom of the first — Nick Foligno got them started with a two-run homer, and he wasn’t done. But the top of the second? Oh, boy.

Vegas dropped a seven-spot on Chicago starter I. Salgado, who just didn’t have it tonight. A leadoff double, a walk, another walk, and then... Franck Huurman. A grand slam. And if you’re looking for a game-defining moment, that’s it right there. One swing, four runs, and the Golden Knights never looked back.

And that wasn’t even the end of it — two batters later, Ivan Barbashev launched a three-run shot of his own. Just like that, Vegas was up 7-2. You can’t spot a lineup like this that kind of lead and expect to win.

Foligno, Barbashev Trade Blows
Now I’ve played in a lot of ballgames where one guy takes over, and for Chicago, that guy was Nick Foligno. Two homers. A triple. Four RBIs. Three runs scored. He did everything you could ask for — and frankly, deserved better.

But Barbashev matched him punch for punch: 3-for-5, a homer, a triple, a double, four RBIs. That’s what we used to call hitting for extra-base dinner — skip the salad, go straight for the meat and potatoes.

Vegas: Opportunistic and Balanced
Look at the Vegas box score — 10 hits, 12 runs. That tells you all you need to know. They didn’t waste their chances. Five walks, efficient situational hitting, and three double plays on defense. That’s what wins you games in October... or, well, late September.

And how about B. Tiller? Two solo shots, a clean game at second base, and a guy who just keeps putting good swings on the ball. You need glue guys like that.

The Bullpens, the Good and the Not-So-Good
Let’s be honest — S. Montez for Vegas didn’t exactly dazzle. Three innings, seven hits, five runs, and a couple of souvenirs for the cheap seats. But give credit to F. Brault, who came in and gave the Knights five strong innings in relief. That’s not glamorous work, but it’s how playoff games get saved.

On the other side? Chicago’s bullpen couldn’t stop the bleeding. Salgado got chased in the second, and the next four relievers all gave up at least a run. V. Sanchez gave up a two-run homer to Golfin in the sixth, and by then, it felt like Chicago was chasing ghosts.

The Bottom Line
At the end of the day, it’s pretty simple: Vegas cashed in, and Chicago didn’t.

You can hit as many solo homers as you want — and the Blackhawks hit four of 'em — but if you can’t stop the other guys from scoring in bunches, you’re not gonna win.

They’ll head back to Vegas now for Game 3 on Wednesday. And let me tell ya — with the crowd in T-Mobile Arena behind them and a 2-0 cushion, the Golden Knights are gonna be a tough out.

But hey, baseball’s a funny game. You get one good start, maybe a timely double play, and suddenly the series swings the other way. That’s why we play the games.

Player of the Game: Nick Foligno (CHI)
Player of the Series So Far: Ivan Barbashev (VGK)
Time of Game: 3:53
Attendance: 41,038
Next Up: Game 3 – Wednesday, T-Mobile Arena, Vegas

Stay sharp, folks.

[jg2977]

“OH, BABY!”—RANGERS BATS EXPLODE IN GAME 3 WIN
By Sam Rosen | September 24, 2002 – Amalie Arena, Tampa

TAMPA BAY – It’s another big win for the New York Rangers! A scintillating offensive display, a 13-8 road victory, and now a commanding 3-0 series lead in the Conference Semifinals. And folks, the Broadway Blues are just one win away from punching their ticket to the next round.

And let me tell you—this one had it all. Early fireworks. Big flies. Grit. Guts. And in the end, the Rangers just outlasted Tampa Bay in a game that felt like a rollercoaster on ice.

Let’s go through it.

A First Inning for the Ages
You talk about setting the tone? How about a six-run top of the first?

The Rangers came out swinging—M. Grubin doubled to lead it off, then W. Cuylle blasted a two-run shot, and just a few batters later, *Eli Grubin—the kid—*crushed a three-run homer to deep left! Oh, BABY! What a way to start a ballgame!

Just like that, the Rangers led 6-0, chasing Tampa starter J. Perez after only one inning. And you could feel the Lightning crowd go silent.

Relentless at the Plate
New York followed up that monster first with five more runs in the second, including three home runs in the frame—I. Bliebernicht, B. Rice, and A. Grubin all went deep in a display of raw power and tremendous timing.

When the dust settled? It was 11-1 Rangers—and folks, it felt like a knockout punch. But not so fast.

Tampa’s Big Fightback
The Lightning didn’t quit. And how about Soup Nazi? The shortstop was 3-for-4, with a home run, two doubles, and 4 RBIs. He put the team on his back, and for a while, it looked like the comeback might be on. Baha Duqaq added two solo homers, and catcher B. Quero joined the power party with a blast of his own.

They cut the lead to 12-6 by the fifth. Then 12-7 after eight. And by the ninth, with Duqaq doubling and Nazi slashing another two-out double, it was 13-8. But that's as close as it got.

The Rangers bent—but they did not break.

Pitching with Poise
Let’s be honest: this was not a pitcher’s duel. H. Macias got roughed up for New York—4.2 innings, 4 earned, 4 home runs allowed. But credit to O. Nunez and the bullpen. They came in, quieted the storm, and gave the offense room to breathe.

And that, my friends, is how you win playoff games.

Across the Diamond
K. Kramer had three hits for New York, W. Cuylle was on base four times, and the Grubins—Eli, Avery, and Mark Grubin—combined for 6 runs, 6 hits, and 5 RBIs.

Oh, and how about that triple from M. Grubin in the ninth? Talk about hustle. That’s Ranger hockey baseball—er, you know what I mean!

What’s Next
So now, it’s Game 4, tomorrow, again in Tampa. The Rangers are hot. The bats are booming. And the Lightning? Well, their backs are against the wall.

You don’t have to be John Davidson to know what comes next: “It’s go time.”

A sweep is in sight. But you better believe Tampa Bay won’t go down without a fight.

For now though, the Rangers take a 13-8 win, a 3-0 series lead, and a whole lot of momentum.

Final Score: Rangers 13, Lightning 8
Player of the Game: Soup Nazi (Tampa Bay)
Game Time: 4:05
Attendance: 32,978
Series: Rangers lead 3-0

And as always, folks… “Thanks for joining us. Stay with us. This one’s far from over!”

[jg2977]

A Most Satisfying Display of Offensive Efficiency
By Dr. Sheldon Cooper, B.S., M.S., M.A., Ph.D., Sc.D.

Let me begin by expressing my deep and unshakeable admiration for the Long Island Islanders' performance in Game 3 of the Conference Semifinals. Not because I have any emotional attachment to the team (sports are, by definition, irrational), but because I appreciate patterns, outliers, and statistical anomalies—and this game had all three.

The Islanders’ 20–8 victory over the Florida Panthers was not merely a triumph; it was a mathematical marvel. Allow me to elaborate.

Warming Bernabel: A Walking, Talking, Bat-Swinging Physics Problem
Let us take a moment to acknowledge the thermodynamic miracle that is Warming Bernabel. The shortstop went 5-for-6, including two home runs, one of which was a grand slam in the ninth inning.

He recorded 11 total bases, 6 RBIs, and scored 4 runs. This individual performance has a Win Probability Added (WPA) that likely rivals the emotional satisfaction I experienced when Leonard finally re-aligned the laser in our apartment’s Wi-Fi router.

If this were The Flash, Bernabel would be vibrating through walls. In this case, he vibrated baseballs through the Florida night.

J. Bauer: The Quantum Particle of Run Production
Jack Bauer, the Islanders’ center fielder, exhibited wave-particle duality by both scoring and driving in runs simultaneously, with two home runs, a double, and a jaw-dropping 7 RBIs. Seven. That’s a prime number. As is three, which is how many hits he had by the fourth inning.

His performance supports my longstanding hypothesis: that when Jack Bauer plays like this, the laws of probability are temporarily suspended in his immediate vicinity.

Offense By the Numbers (and Oh, What Numbers)
Let us appreciate the following numeric feats:

23 hits.
20 runs.
9 extra-base hits.
Only 5 runners left on base.
From a mathematical standpoint, this is called run conversion efficiency. From a baseball standpoint, it’s called obliteration.

Florida: A Curious Case of Catastrophic Inefficiency
Now, I must address the Florida Panthers. Despite scoring 8 runs, they were utterly outclassed. Their pitching staff surrendered 20 runs, 3 of them via Warming Bernabel's orbital launch off D. Felipe in the ninth.

To continue with my physics metaphors, the Florida bullpen resembled a black hole, not in its gravitational pull, but in its capacity to suck all hope and matter out of the stadium by the fifth inning.

Pitching: Or, More Accurately, Its Absence
C. van Laar, the winning pitcher for Long Island, was not so much dominant as he was adequate relative to the chaos behind him. He allowed 6 runs in 5 innings, which in this context, qualified him as a stabilizing force.

Meanwhile, Florida’s O. Gomez lasted two innings while allowing 6 runs and 4 home runs, a sequence so statistically improbable, I briefly thought I had accidentally opened a simulation model from my laptop.

Final Notes
Let’s not forget the setting: Amerant Bank Arena, with a roof closed and a climate-controlled 79 degrees. Despite this, the heat generated by the Islanders' offense would have raised the temperature inside by several kelvins—though, unfortunately, no one thought to measure that.

Attendance: 37,768 humanoids.
Time of Game: 3 hours, 49 minutes, or 13.8 minutes per run scored.
Errors: Zero. Which pleases me immensely.

Conclusion
This game was not merely a victory. It was a textbook demonstration of entropy, velocity, and what happens when nine bats align like the planets during a solar eclipse.

Should the Panthers wish to remain in this series, they will need a drastic recalibration of their tactical approach. Or a miracle. Or both.

Until then, I shall sit back, adjust my noise-canceling headphones, and run Bernabel’s swing trajectory through my finite element analysis software for further study.

Bazinga.

[jg2977]

Hi-ho! Kermit the Frog here, reporting live from T-Mobile Arena in Las Vegas!
And oh boy, what a ribbiting—I mean, riveting—baseball game we had on our hands today as the Chicago Blackhawks took down the Vegas Golden Knights by a score of 6 to 5 in Game 3 of the Conference Semifinals! Yayyy!

Now, let me tell ya, folks… this game had everything: drama, dingers, and a whole lotta excitement! Almost as exciting as watching Fozzie try to bunt a watermelon. (Don’t ask.)

🌟 Connor Bedard: Superstar with a Capital S!
Wowzers! Connor Bedard was an absolute firecracker out there today! He went 2-for-4 with a home run, a triple, three runs batted in, and even swiped a base! If he were a Muppet, he’d definitely be Scooter—fast, smart, and always in the right place at the right time.

And let’s not forget his 2-out, 3-run homer in the 4th inning! It soared through the air like Gonzo in a cannonball act—BOOM! Right over the fence and right into the hearts of Chicago fans everywhere. 🧡⚾

💥 Nick Foligno: Captain Clutch
Just when the crowd thought it was safe to put the foam fingers down, Nick Foligno said, “Not so fast!” In the top of the ninth inning, he blasted a solo home run that broke a 5–5 tie and sent the Chicago dugout into a frenzy! Yay!

That was his only hit of the day, but boy oh boy, it was the one that counted. Sometimes it’s not about quantity—it’s about timing. Like knowing exactly when to interrupt Miss Piggy. (Actually, never do that.)

🎭 Tales of Two Teams
Let’s talk about Vegas for a second—because they didn’t go down without a fight! Barbashev stole a base, Squillino had three hits and three RBIs, and B. Tiller clobbered a solo homer in the seventh. It looked like the Knights were about to pull a dazzling comeback, but alas… the curtain fell just one run short.

And hey, I’ve gotta give a shoutout to Vegas’s pitcher B. Watts, who came in with hope but left with heartbreak after giving up that go-ahead homer. Oof. It’s okay, B—there’s always another act in this series.

🎶 The Stats That Sing
Chicago had 11 hits, 8 walks, and stranded 12 runners.
That’s a lot of frogs left on the lily pad, folks!
Vegas had 10 hits, and Barbashev now has 5 homers this postseason! That's more bombs than Dr. Bunsen Honeydew’s lab last week.
And speaking of explosions: Chicago’s F. Bautista pitched a solid 6 innings despite letting in 4 runs. Then M. Rivera came in like Animal on the drums and shut it down for the win!

🐸 Final Thoughts
So after tonight’s thrilling adventure, the series stands at 2–1, with Vegas still leading. But the Blackhawks are flapping their wings, folks, and Connor Bedard is flying high!

Game 4 is tomorrow, and I, for one, can’t wait to see what happens next! Will Vegas strike back? Will Bedard do more Bedard things? Will Miss Piggy throw a fastball out of frustration?

Stay tuned, and as always…

Yayyyyyy baseball!!! 🐸⚾💚

[jg2977]

THE 9TH INNING OF GEORGE
From the press box of despair, paranoia, and unlikely triumph

So get this... Dallas wins a playoff game. Dallas. The Stars. I don’t even know if they know how. I mean, they were down in the series, they were practically toast, crumbling like day-old rye. And then—boom! Out of nowhere, they score five runs in the ninth inning and walk off with an 8–5 win in Calgary.

I mean, who are these people!?

Let me tell you something, folks—this was not a comfortable win. No, no, no! This was the kind of game that raises your blood pressure, gives you stomach cramps, and makes you question every decision you’ve ever made, including that questionable egg salad sandwich you had before first pitch. But you know what? It was worth it.

George Costanza Hits a Grand Slam. Let Me Say That Again. A GRAND SLAM.
Now I’m not saying I’m the hero, but I’m the hero. One hit, four RBIs. You know what that’s called? Efficiency. You give me one shot, I’ll give you four runs. I’m like the Costco of clutch hitting. Maximum value.

It’s the top of the ninth, bases loaded, two outs, full count, and I’m thinking to myself: This is it. This is my moment. This is why I didn’t go into latex. And BAM! I send that baby into orbit! The ball is flying, the bench is erupting, and I'm rounding the bases like I’ve just stolen a parking space in Manhattan during alternate side rules. Glorious.

Nazem Kadri—This Guy!
Listen, you want to talk about consistent? Nazem Kadri is hitting like he’s being paid in home runs and doubles. Today, he goes 2-for-3, hits a homer, takes two walks like he’s strolling through Central Park, and makes life miserable for the Flames. This guy is so locked in, he could hit a fastball blindfolded with a breadstick.

Pitching? Let’s Not Get Crazy... But It Worked.
C. Kim started for Dallas. He gave up five runs in four and a third innings, walked five batters, and somehow still survived. That’s like me managing to live in my parents’ house until I was 34. Not pretty, but effective!

Then this guy F. Cespedes comes in, shuts the door in the eighth like he’s guarding the last piece of cheesecake, and L. Sanchez gets the save. It’s not what you’d call elegant, but hey—it got the job done. Like Kramer fixing a sink with a spatula.

Meanwhile, in Calgary... Pain.
Oh, Flames fans. You had it. You had it. Up 5–3 going into the ninth, your guys are probably dusting off their brooms, thinking sweep. But no. Then comes Costanza with the grand salami and poof—your bullpen collapses like a cheap folding chair at a family barbecue.

Your manager, Juan Medina? He looked like he just got stuck in a revolving door that won’t stop. Quote of the night: “We didn’t play well enough to win.” Really? You think?!?

A Game for the Ages… Or at Least for the Therapists.
This one had everything. High drama, emotional trauma, and just enough offense to make you forget you haven’t done your taxes. If Dallas can somehow bottle this ninth-inning magic, they might just crawl back into this thing.

But let me be clear: I don’t trust it. I’ve seen too much. They win one game, you start to believe... next thing you know, you’re buying a jersey, they lose three straight, and you’re eating spaghetti alone in the dark. AGAIN.

Next Game? Same Place. Same Chaos.
Scotiabank Saddledome. Game 4. Will Dallas tie it up? Will Calgary bounce back? Will Costanza get another at-bat? (Probably not.) Tune in tomorrow—because you never know when a neurotic third baseman with one hit and a dream will strike again.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to lie down.

[jg2977]

New York Rangers: 19th Conference Finals berth
1981 1983 1984 1985 1986 1987 1988 1989 1990 1991 1992 1993 1994 1995 1998 1999 2000 2001 2002

New York Rangers at Tampa Bay Lightning — September 25, 2002
Recap by Milton Waddams (yes... yes I was told I could write it)

Um, okay... so the New York Rangers... they, uh, they beat the Tampa Bay Lightning. They scored fifteen runs. That’s a lot of runs, and I was going to watch the game, I told them I was going to watch it, but they turned the channel. Again. They said it was "just a formality" because the Rangers were up three games to none, but I was like, "I like formality..."

Anyway, the Rangers won 15 to 11, and now they’re going to the Conference Finals, and nobody even asked me if I wanted them to win, which... it would’ve been nice, you know?

They said the game was at Amalie Arena, which is where I used to keep my radio before they took my desk. The game started at 1:05 PM, and it lasted three hours and fifty-eight minutes, which is longer than they let me sit in the break room.

Will Cuylle... He Did a Thing
So... this guy, Will Cuylle, he’s apparently very good. He hit a bunch of home runs, four of them in the series. They gave him MVP, and, uh... I didn’t get anything. I asked if I could get a trophy, maybe a small one, just for watching, and they told me I should go back to Storage B.

Cuylle said, and I quote, “On to the Conference Finals and feeling good.” Well, that’s good for him. I also feel good when I’m not being relocated to the basement. Maybe I could come to the Finals? I have a flashlight.

Ben Rice Was Also There
Ben Rice hit two home runs. They called him the Player of the Game. I had a red stapler once. I was the Player of the Office. And, um, they took that too.

Ben Rice had eight total bases, and everyone was very excited, but I bet he didn’t have his cake taken before he got any, which happened to me at the last office birthday party.

Home Runs Were... Everywhere
It was like... a home run contest, I think. The Rangers hit seven home runs. Tampa Bay hit six. That’s thirteen. That’s... that’s one more than twelve. It’s a baker’s dozen of destruction, if you like metaphors. I like metaphors. And cake. Especially bundt.

Anyway, M. Grubin, B. Sattler, W. Cuylle, B. Rice (twice), A. Grubin (twice) — all hit dingers. It was like everyone got to use the good stapler but me.

Tampa had a guy named Dimas hit two homers, and then R. Sifonte, Duqaq, Perez, and Nazi all added one each. Nazi is a weird name. I'm not allowed to say that in the office anymore.

Pitching... Was Not a Priority
So... both teams gave up 14 hits, and the starting pitchers had ERAs that looked like someone sat on the calculator. New York’s G. Contreras gave up 7 runs in 3.1 innings, and Tampa’s M. Gonzalez gave up 6 in 3.0. That’s bad. That’s, like... very bad. It’s like when they said my timecard was “lost.” You can’t lose something you never looked for.

There were a lot of pitching changes. Nobody seemed to know what they were doing. There were zero strikeouts by the Rangers’ bullpen, but they still won. I once reorganized an entire supply closet and didn’t get a raise.

Conference Finals? Huh? Oh... Okay.
So the Rangers are moving on, and they don’t know who they’re playing next. It could be the Long Island Islanders or the Florida Panthers. I could play. I mean, no one asked me, but I brought my own helmet... it’s red.

They said the schedule will be released soon, but last time I asked about a schedule, they told me to “circle back after Q3.” I don’t know what that means. I just want to see the game.

Anyway... the Rangers are very good. Tampa Bay is going home. I’m going back to the basement now. If the Rangers win the Finals, I hope they give me back my stapler. I think that’s fair. I told them it was mine. It was red. And if they don't... I’ll set the rink on fire.

[jg2977]

.

[jg2977]

LONG ISLAND ISLANDERS @ FLORIDA PANTHERS — SEPTEMBER 25, 2002
Recap by Peter Gibbons, guy who used to care about things... kinda.

So yeah, I’m gonna go ahead and talk about this game between Long Island and Florida. Not that it matters. I mean, it was basically four hours of chaos, a bunch of guys hitting the crap out of the ball, and a bunch of pitchers pretending like they’ve never done this before.

Final score: Long Island 15, Florida 13.
That’s not a typo. That’s just what happens when nobody really wants to be at work.

Let’s just say if this game were played in an office, HR would be sending out a "Let's talk about performance" email to every pitcher involved. Except maybe Brenton. That guy actually tried.

Adrie Sijtsma, Definitely Not Doing the Bare Minimum
So there’s this dude, Adrie Sijtsma. Second baseman. Probably one of those guys who actually likes his job. He went 2-for-3, hit a home run, walked twice, and somehow ended up with 4 RBI and 3 runs scored.

I mean, I guess if you’re gonna bother showing up to a baseball game, you might as well go all in. Some people are just built that way.

Eighth-Inning Madness (a.k.a. TPS Report-Level Fire Drill)
Let’s talk about the eighth inning. Florida scored six runs. Six. Like they suddenly remembered they were getting paid to play. Home runs from Espinoza and Salad — yes, there’s a guy named Salad — tried to make it interesting. And yeah, the Panthers made it close, but... let’s be honest, they still lost. So, classic Florida.

Also, Espinoza hit two home runs. Probably still got overlooked in the postgame meeting.

Pitching... Was There
Look, I’m not saying the pitching was bad. Actually, no — that’s exactly what I’m saying. This was like watching a staff meeting where no one read the agenda. Guys walking batters, giving up bombs left and right. ERA’s floating in the double digits like they’re balloon animals at a kid’s birthday party.

Florida’s D. Felipe? Faced 5 batters, gave up 3 runs. ERA: 54.00.
Long Island’s E. Rivera? Gave up 4 runs without recording a single out. That’s not pitching, that’s just clocking in to watch things burn.
So What Now?
Long Island’s up 3-1 in the series. One more win and they’re on to the Conference Finals. They’ll play Game 5 back at UBS Arena on Friday. Probably gonna win unless they collectively decide they’re done trying.

Personally, I’d rather be fishing. Or sleeping. Or maybe gutting the break room printer with a baseball bat. But hey — if you’re into dramatic baseball with no defense and enough scoring to make a football coach blush, this was your game.

Anyway... if you could go ahead and give Sijtsma the MVP parking spot early, that’d be great.

Oh, and Florida? Yeah, I’m gonna need you to come in on Friday... and win. Mmmkay?

[jg2977]

DALLAS STARS AT CALGARY FLAMES — SEPTEMBER 26, 2002
Recap presented by Bill Lumbergh, Regional Manager of Baseball Operations, probably.

Yeah, I'm gonna go ahead and talk about Game 4 of the Conference Semifinals here, mmmkay?
So, uh, Dallas… they did win this one, 9 to 5, which, you know, technically ties the series at 2 games apiece. That’s great. That’s just great.

Now, if you could go ahead and give a big "thanks" to George Costanza, that’d be terrific. He went 4-for-5 with a homer, didn’t get fired, and even managed to not screw anything up in the field. He’s basically the guy you call when you need someone to come in on a Saturday and finish those TPS reports, ya know?

And then there’s Amenzu Jabiri — yeah, that guy. Grand slam in the ninth. Again. That's two games in a row for the Stars. I mean, I’m not saying he has to carry the entire offense on his back... but if he could just keep doing that for the rest of the series, that’d be super.

Let’s Talk Pitching... Unfortunately
So, uh, yeah. Quezada, for Dallas? Yikes. He threw 82 pitches to record eleven outs, gave up 5 runs, walked five guys, and hit one. So we’re gonna need him to come in early next time and maybe, I dunno, throw some actual strikes. That’d be great.

But, hey — bullpen kinda did their jobs. Van Steenis looked like he read the memo. Cespedes? He’s that one guy in the office who quietly saves the whole team and doesn’t even demand a pizza party in return.

Calgary, Mmmyeah, We're Gonna Need More from You
So Calgary… they had this one. They really did. But then T. Stanford happened. He came in, gave up a grand slam, then gave up another solo homer for good measure. So, uh, yeah. That’s a tough look. Maybe check your calendar and make sure it’s not Casual Implosion Friday.

And then there’s Mila Grubin. Look, walking four times in a playoff game? That’s actually impressive. But also… it’s kinda like bragging about how you filled out your time sheet on time. We expect that.

So Here’s the Deal...
Game 5’s gonna be in Dallas on Saturday. Lot riding on it. So, if everyone could go ahead and not implode in the ninth this time, that’d be fantastic. Also, if the bullpen could stop giving up historic meltdowns, we’d all really appreciate it.

And Flames? Mmmkay, if you could go ahead and not lose the next one, that’d be greeeat.

Alright, thanks a bunch. Let me know if you need me. I’ll be in the press box pretending to write emails.

[jg2977]

CHICAGO BLACKHAWKS 16, VEGAS GOLDEN KNIGHTS 13 (10 INNINGS)
— As explained by John Madden

BOOM! Now this is what I call a ballgame! You get sixteen runs on one side, thirteen on the other, home runs flying out of the yard, extra innings — this thing had more action than a Thanksgiving Day turkey stuffed with fireworks! I mean, forget pitching duels — this was a run explosion, folks!

You look at the scoreboard and think, “Hey, is this a baseball game or the fourth quarter of Bears-Raiders?” Because lemme tell ya, Chicago put up a five-spot in the 1st, and Vegas answered right back with three. That’s like starting a football game with back-to-back kickoff returns. You don’t see it often, but when you do? Oh man.

Lançarote Golfin — THE WHOLE ENCHILADA!
Now if you’re talking about MVPs for the losing team, you gotta start with Lançarote Golfin. This guy goes 4-for-6 with two homers, two doubles, five RBIs, and four runs scored. That's not a game — that's a season for some guys!

It was like every time he came up, he was hitting the ball so hard I thought it was gonna end up in the parking lot at Allegiant Stadium. Boom! Boom! Double! Home run! Double again! I mean, if the Knights had eight more GOLFINS, we’d be talking about a blowout the other way.

R. Hextall — NAME SOUNDS LIKE A HOCKEY PLAYER, HITS LIKE A CLEANUP GUY
Now let’s talk R. Hextall, shortstop for the Blackhawks — and yes, I know the name makes you think of a goalie getting into a fistfight — but this guy? He was out there going 3-for-6, two home runs, a double, and three RBIs. That's what I call multi-sport talent, boom!

And don’t forget about Jimmy Lautzenheiser — you might say, “John, I don’t know who that is.” Well, you do now! Pinch hits in the tenth inning, hits a go-ahead bomb, drops the mic, walks off. That’s the kind of thing you dream about as a kid: “Hey, Mom! I wanna grow up and hit a clutch dinger in Vegas.” And he did!

LET’S TALK ABOUT DEFENSE. OR, UH... LACK THEREOF.
Now there was a lot of hitting in this one, but let’s just say... the bullpens? They were kinda like trying to stop a runaway train with a pool noodle. You had J. Gould starting for Chicago — gave up three runs before most fans even found their seats. And the Vegas bullpen? B. Watts comes in, gives up back-to-back bombs in the 10th. That’s like fumbling the ball twice on the same kickoff.

And the relievers — they weren’t just giving up runs, they were feeding them! Like, “Hey buddy, here’s a three-run homer, on the house!”

BEDARD’S BIG NIGHT
Oh! Almost forgot Connor Bedard — this guy hit three doubles in a playoff game. That ties a WC record! And if you’re tying records that don’t even sound like they belong in baseball, you’re doing something right. Kid's got wheels, pop, and vision — triple threat. If I were building a fantasy team, I’d want 11 Bedards and maybe a mascot.

WHAT’S NEXT?
So we’re tied up, 2-2, heading to Chicago. If Game 5 is anything like this, folks, grab your popcorn, your nachos, and your seatbelt, because it’s gonna be a wild ride. I mean, both these teams are swinging like it's the Home Run Derby and fielding like it's a game of freeze tag.

In conclusion — 29 combined runs, 31 hits, 7 homers, and a game that took 4 hours. Folks, that’s baseball the Madden way. BOOM!

[jg2977]

New York Islanders: 5th Conference Finals berth
1997 1998 1999 2000 2002

LONG ISLAND ISLANDERS 7, FLORIDA PANTHERS 6
— As reluctantly recapped by Michael Bolton (from Office Space)

Yeah, so... uh... the Long Island Islanders beat the Florida Panthers 7-6 on Friday night, and, uh... they won the Conference Semifinals. Which is, like, good for them. I guess.

Warming Bernabel hit some clutch double in the 9th. Game over. Series over. Islanders move on. Confetti, or whatever. Honestly, I’d rather be home listening to real Michael Bolton — you know, the guy who didn’t ruin my life by sharing my name.

But, uh... yeah. Let's go ahead and break this one down.

Sijtsma. Again.
You want to talk about who got it done? Fine. It was Adrie Sijtsma. Again. The guy hit .526 for the series. He scored 11 runs. He drove in 9. He probably answered phones in the front office, too. I dunno. MVP? Sure. Why not.

Quote from him: “Only thing better than getting MVP for winning in the playoffs would be winning MVP for winning in the Stanley Cup Finals.”
Wow. Cool. Great. Must be real nice.

The Panthers Tried, Okay?
I mean, Florida scored 6 runs. That should be enough. They even hit a solo homer in the 8th from S. Saito. They tied it up! Then, of course, they lost it in the 9th, because... why not?

Let’s be honest — you don’t give up a walk-off double to a guy named Warming Bernabel unless your bullpen's motto is “we tried.”

Oh Good, A New York Rivalry
So now it’s Long Island vs. the New York Rangers in the Eastern Conference Finals. A full-on New York showdown. That’s just... that’s just terrific. I hope every sports bar in Manhattan explodes with 37 simultaneous “Let’s Go Rangers” chants. That won’t be annoying at all.

Meanwhile, I’ll be here... updating spreadsheets... listening to coworkers ask if I’ve ever met the other Michael Bolton... again.

Final Thoughts (Because I’m Contractually Obligated to Give Them)
Florida’s bullpen: Bad.
Long Island’s bullpen: Slightly less bad.
MVP: Sijtsma. Whatever.
Attendance: 43,274 people made louder noises than I ever will in my cubicle.
Game length: 3 hours and 15 minutes. Just like every meeting that should’ve been an email.
Anyway... Long Island moves on. The Panthers go home. And I’m gonna go put on my headphones, queue up “How Am I Supposed to Live Without You” and stare blankly at my screen until the printer jams again.

Game over.

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DALLAS 10, CALGARY 5
As reluctantly reported by Samir Nagheenanajar, TPS-report survivor

Okay. So. Dallas won again. That’s, what, three in a row now? Yeah, they lost the first two, but apparently they decided, “Hey, let’s stop losing,” and now they’re up 3–2 in the series. I mean... it must be nice to do your job competently and get credit for it. Unlike some of us.

Amenzu Jabiri hit a grand slam in the sixth inning. A grand slam. Four runs with one swing. I guess that’s what happens when your boss doesn’t make you fix formatting issues on your own birthday.

Jabiri and the Stars: Like a Good TPS Cover Sheet
Yeah, so, Jabiri had a triple, a grand slam, and just generally decided, “No, I will not go quietly into that night.” The guy finished with five RBIs. And here I am, getting lectured for using the wrong stapler.

And then you’ve got George Costanza — no, not that one — hitting bombs, legging out triples, and just generally showing the kind of hustle that would’ve saved Initech if we had more guys like him. And less like Lumbergh.

Calgary: Not Gonna Work Here Anymore
Okay, I’ll admit it — N. Kadri is terrifying. Six homers in the series? He might be the Michael Bolton of playoff hockey — lots of hits, little appreciation. But it wasn’t enough.

Their pitcher, Asai? He gave up seven runs. Seven! You know how many customer satisfaction surveys you’d have to mess up to get seven dings? Actually, don’t answer that. I already know.

So Now What?
Game 6 heads back to Calgary. Dallas needs one more win to advance. One. If they pull it off, they'll move to the Conference Finals, and I’ll still be stuck explaining to HR why “Samir.Nagheenanajar” doesn’t fit in the login field again.

You know what would be nice? A little recognition. Maybe a Player of the Game ribbon for “Didn’t yell at the printer even though it jammed during timesheet submission.” But I digress.

Final Notes (Because If I Don’t Submit These, I Get Another Meeting Invite)
Player of the Game: Jabiri. Obviously.
Pitching MVP: Fernandez. 6.2 innings. 8 strikeouts. Didn’t collapse. Gold star.
Most Underappreciated: Probably me. But fine, give it to George Costanza if you must.
Time of Game: 3 hours, 22 minutes. Longer than my lunch break, shorter than a team-building workshop.
Attendance: 41,030 people who don’t have to file their own parking validation forms.
Anyway, if you need me, I’ll be over here... staring at a broken copier... wondering how Jabiri gets to play in front of 40,000 fans while I get to explain the difference between a PDF and a Word doc again.

[jg2977]

BLACKHAWKS 9, GOLDEN KNIGHTS 4
By Charlie Kelly, PhD in Wildcarding

Okay so first off — listen, listen, you gotta hear me out, ‘cause this game was bananas, alright? The Blackhawks, who were basically dead, like they were two losses deep, lookin’ like birds with no wings, right? Now they’re alive, baby! That’s three wins in a row! Count ‘em: one, two, THRICE! This ain’t no regular hockey — this is hockey mayhem, and I am INTO IT.

So Vegas comes in thinkin’ they’re all hot stuff with their shiny gold armor and Barbashevs and their Huurmans and whatnot — and BAM! Chicago goes full hawk-mode, feathers flying, skate blades blazing, everybody’s gettin’ triples and jacks and Hextall’s flying around like some kind of baseball-hockey hybrid Frankenstein!

Let’s Talk About Connor Freakin’ Bedard
Bedard? Bedard’s not just a guy, okay? He’s like... he's like a unicorn, but a mean one. Dude goes TRIPLE, HOMER, SAVES A RUNNER AT THIRD WITH AN OUTFIELD LASER BEAM like he’s freakin’ Iron Man if Iron Man played sports instead of fighting crime.

Three hits, two ribs, a dinger, and he says something like “hitting’s contagious.” Contagious? No, man — it’s a full-blown outbreak! These dudes were spreading offense like rats in Paddy’s basement! We’re talking CDC-level domination.

The Vegas Collapse (A.K.A. “The Day the Knights Got Slayed”)
So Ramon Reyes, their starter? Absolutely got got. Boom — triples. Boom — homers. Boom — his ERA now looks like my bar tab on a Sunday morning. Nine runs on 14 hits. That’s not hockey. That’s chaos. That’s war. That’s... probably illegal in Canada.

Also Golfin hits a homer late like, “Hey guys, wait up!” but by then it’s too late. That’s like trying to put the trash fire out with a Capri Sun.

Nick Foligno: Secret Weapon
Now Nick Foligno? Nick was out there acting like he invented baseball. He’s slapping triples, launching homers, driving in four. This dude’s got the eyes of a hawk and the bat speed of a hummingbird on Red Bull. He’s like, “What if I just win the game myself?” And then — he does it. This man’s a menace. I love him.

Final Notes from Your Favorite Wildcard
Player of the Game: Connor “Triple Threat” Bedard
Most Likely to Start a Bar Fight With a Hat Trick: Nick “I Don’t Miss” Foligno
Pitching MVP: D. Perez. The man threw 114 pitches like his landlord was watching. Respect.
Time of Game: 3 hours and 6 minutes. That's like, one Mac and Charlie rat-hunting montage.
Attendance: 42,029 fans and exactly one raccoon probably in the vents.
So what’s next? Game 6 in Vegas, baby. Bright lights, big trouble. If Chicago closes this out, I’m gonna lose my freakin’ mind, and I’m gonna write a musical about it — Connor: The Bedardening. It’s got lasers, it’s got skates, and it’s got vengeance.

Alright, I gotta go put some glue traps in the boiler room. GO BLACKHAWKS!

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FLAMES 7, STARS 6
By Dennis Reynolds, Human Adonis and Emotional Puppet Master

So... Dallas. Oh, Dallas. You thought — you actually thought — you were going to just waltz into Calgary and claim your little fourth straight win, wrap up the series like it was some casual Tuesday night wine-and-dine? No, no, no. That’s not how this works. That’s not how any of this works. This is Game 6. The semifinals. The crucible of the Western Conference. And you came in with your loose collars, your false confidence, your mediocre bullpen, and expected to dominate?

Enter: Lloyd. Freaking. Braun.

This man didn’t just show up. He arrived. Like a god descending from Mount Olympus, wearing fire-colored cleats and a smug grin that could melt the Arctic. The man went 3-for-4 with a home run, a double, 3 RBIs, and frankly, I suspect stole the virginity of at least one Dallas fan’s soul. Player of the Game? Obviously. That wasn’t baseball — that was a performance art piece called "How to Ruin a Man’s Career with a Bat."

Carlos Meraz: The Aesthetic Closer
And then there’s Carlos Meraz. Oh, sweet Carlos. The man had one job. One at-bat. And what does he do? He walks up, shirt rippling with untapped potential, eyes glimmering with vengeance, and he obliterates a baseball into the sun. Bottom of the ninth. Walk-off three-run jack. Cold-blooded. Devastating. Beautiful.

That wasn’t a swing — it was a statement. A primal roar from the bottom of the depth chart that screamed, "I’m better than you. I always have been."

Dallas pitcher L. Sanchez? You just got seduced, used, and discarded by a pinch hitter with one AB to his name and zero respect for your dreams.

A Brief Note on Dallas: You’re Embarrassing
You dropped six runs early, sure. But you let a bullpen with a combined ERA in the double digits shut you down for the final four frames. That’s not grit, that’s not poise — that’s emotional fragility. Look at your numbers:

A. Jabiri? Still magnificent. Obviously.
G. Costanza? Like a charmingly self-deluded stockbroker — boom or bust.
B. Grubin? Cool name, empty stat line.
Thien? Nothing. Not even a whisper of impact. Get it together.
You guys got 10 hits. And you squandered them. Just like you squandered your shot at ending this series early.

Pitching Notes? Fine, If We Must.
Kunisada somehow threw 116 pitches, mostly as an elaborate form of slow-motion self-sabotage.
Cespedes was the only guy who looked like he even read the scouting report.
Sanchez... oof. My guy. You blew the save in such spectacular fashion, it bordered on performance art. I’d honestly respect it if I didn’t feel nauseous watching it happen.
Calgary’s Pen: A Glorious, Glorious Dumpster Fire That Somehow Didn’t Burn
Let’s not kid ourselves. Calgary's bullpen was basically a game of Russian roulette played by six men with caffeine dependencies. Pastor? Gone before the popcorn was warm. Velasquez? Got through on pure vibes. But somehow — somehow — this chorus of chaos kept Dallas at bay long enough for Carlos freakin’ Meraz to do the only thing that mattered.

Final Thoughts, Delivered with Poise and Emotional Mastery
Game 7. In Dallas. This series is now one game, winner takes all, loser writes poetry in the dark for the rest of the offseason.

Dallas has the talent. Calgary has the emotional momentum. And Carlos Meraz has the glint of a man who knows he owns your nightmares now.

I’ll be watching. Shirt off. Eyes locked. Martini in hand. And if the Stars blow this?

Well...

They deserved it.

Dennis Reynolds, out.

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BLACKHAWKS BLOW IT, VEGAS WINS, EVERYONE LOSES
by Frank Reynolds — rat wrestler, war dog, man of business

Alright. Let me paint you a picture here, alright? You’re sittin’ on a 3-2 series lead. You’ve got 14 hits. You got 14 hits! That’s a buffet! That’s a freakin’ Sizzler, alright? You gotta EAT when you got that kind of spread. You close the deal, you take the win, you go home, you hose off. But what do the Blackhawks do?

They leave 11 guys on base. ELEVEN.
That’s not baseball. That’s a waste management crisis.

Let’s Talk About Salgado… Or Don’t, Actually
Now I’m not here to roast the pitching, but I’m absolutely here to roast the pitching. Salgado goes out there and gives up five dingers like he’s handing out free t-shirts at a freakin’ casino opening. Every inning, it’s like “Hey, who wants to take a victory lap?” BOOM! Home run. BOOM! Another one. I haven’t seen that many balls leave the park since the time I tried to run a fight club outta that Little League dugout.

And that’s not even the worst of it — Gould? Rivera? They might as well have been throwing meatballs soaked in kerosene. Vegas lit them up like a bum’s trash fire behind Paddy’s.

Barbashev? That Guy’s an Assassin
This guy Barbashev, right? He's out there like a cold-blooded Russian hitman, just destroying souls. Two homers, a walk, scores twice — probably kicked someone in the teeth on the way out. That man hits like he owes money to nobody and fears nothing. He’s not playing baseball, he’s waging psychological warfare with a Louisville Slugger.

And then there’s Bob Tiller. That little SOB hits for the cycle minus a triple, if anyone was paying attention. Single, double, homer. Dude looked like he was just hitting buttons on a pinball machine — DING DING DING, Jackpot!

Chicago’s Offense: All Bark, No Mauling
Listen, I love a good offensive game. I’m a man of appetites, alright? And this game had me licking my freakin’ fingers until I looked at the LOB column. ELEVEN. LEFT. ON. BASE. You’ve got Connor Bedard, you’ve got Nick “The Folignator” Foligno, you’ve got this Hextall kid smashing dingers — and what do you do?

You strand them like rats on a floating mattress.

You score 7 runs, you hit doubles, triples, homers, you steal bases — and you STILL lose? That's not unlucky. That's self-sabotage. That’s Charlie trying to cook a steak in a toaster.

Fielding? Don’t Even Talk to Me
Chicago turned three double plays. Sounds good, right? Wrong. That was just damage control because your pitching staff was getting shelled like a sardine factory. Meanwhile, Vegas is throwing guys out at second, at home, probably from the parking lot — Barbashev and Squillino just hosing people down like it’s freakin’ Normandy.

And that Sanchez kid? Two hit-by-pitches and zero hits. Buddy, were you even awake?

Conclusion: We’re Going to Game 7, and I Need a Drink
We’re heading back to Chicago now. And if I were the Blackhawks? I’d lock the gates, light some candles, and summon a demon, because that’s what it’s gonna take to stop Barbashev and Tiller now. These Vegas guys are jacked up on momentum, churros, and God knows what else.

Chicago had the game in its hands, and they let it slip through like spaghetti in a wet paper bag. Frankly? I respect it. That’s a real scumbag move, and I know a thing or two about scumbag moves.

Game 7’s on Wednesday. Somebody bring me a gun and a wet nap.

— Frank Reynolds,
Bloodhound of Baseball, Co-Owner of Paddy’s Pub (and your mom’s favorite sports analyst)

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Dallas Stars: 12th Conference Final berth
1989 1990 1991 1992 1993 1994 1995 1997 1998 2000 2001 2002

STARS STRIKE BACK: DALLAS MASTERFULLY DOMINATES THE FLAMES WITH PHYSICAL POWER, SPIRITUAL BALANCE, AND ULTIMATE BODY CONTROL
by Ronald "Mac" McDonald, Assistant (Unlicensed) Strength Coach, Karate Expert, and Champion of Western Morality

Listen up, bro. You don’t just survive Game 7s. You transcend them. And that’s what the Dallas Stars did tonight — they transcended the flesh, transcended fear, and they advanced to the Western Conference Final for the 12th time in franchise history, because that’s what champions do.

Now, I know what you're thinking:
"Mac, are you implying that Dallas used a spiritual blend of Shaolin discipline and UFC-caliber upper-body strength to win this game?"

Yes. That is exactly what I am saying.

Step One: Establish Dominance with Power Moves
From the first inning, Dallas came out flexin'. Grubin? BOOM. Montez? BOOM. My boy Jabiri? He didn’t even have to get a hit to dominate — dude just vibed his way on base and let his teammates feed off his alpha energy. Two walks, a sac fly, and the whole Calgary lineup was shook.

You think a man with 6 homers and 19 RBIs in a single series is scared of elimination? Bro. He lives for that pressure. That’s some maximum density clutch right there. Series MVP? Hell yeah, he is. The guy’s basically the Tommy Oliver of playoff baseball. That’s the Green Ranger, bro.

Step Two: Unleash the Body
Let’s talk power output. Pagan smashes a solo blast in the 6th. Two batters later, Grubin Jr. drops a two-out nuke to take the lead back. That’s pure torque-to-mass ratio. That’s glute activation, core engagement, and years of disciplined creatine cycling.

And don't even get me started on Montez. Guy goes 3-for-4, scores 3 times, swipes a bag, and looks like he trains in a sensory-deprivation tank filled with HGH and determination. If this guy isn’t doing CrossFit between innings, I’ll eat my sleeveless tee.

Step Three: Physical Defense, Spiritual Control
The pitching? Bro, it was like a battle meditation. Kim had a rocky start, sure. But this isn’t about looking good — it’s about absorbing punishment like a tank and letting the bullpen monks finish the job. Korevaar? Clean. Cespedes? One batter, one K, vanished like smoke. And Sanchez? Two shutout innings, closing this game out like a ninja disappearing into the mist.

No errors. No mistakes. No mercy.

Meanwhile, Calgary Flails Like a Pack of Emotional Teenagers
Let’s be honest, the Flames had the firepower. Kadri was still dangerous, Grubin hit a bomb, and they loaded the bases more times than Dennis at an open bar. But you can feel it, bro — they cracked. They mentally folded under the pressure of a fully engaged Dallas machine. You don’t leave 13 runners on base and win games. That’s not elite behavior.

Carlos Meraz? Yeah, he hit a double. But this ain’t Game 6 anymore, chief — this is the dojo, and the Stars own the mat.

Final Thoughts: This Is a Team of Warriors
This wasn’t just a baseball game, it was a test of will, a battle of essence, and the Stars ascended. I haven’t seen this much focus, grit, and shredded muscle since I led my own tactical assault unit (that I designed, ran, and staffed entirely with mirrors).

Dallas moves on. Whoever they face — whether it’s Vegas or Chicago — they better come prepared. Because this Stars team? They're sharpened, they're chiseled, and they are spiritually yoked.

Mac out.
Assistant Strength Coach (self-appointed)
Master of Jiu Jitsu/Jeet Kune Do/Krav Maga Fusion
Friend to Eagles, Enemy to Weakness

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[jg2977]

Chicago Blackhawks: 5th Conference Finals berth
1977 1989 1999 2001 2002

Blackhawks Surge Past Golden Knights in Game 7 Thriller, Advance to Western Conference Finals
By Chicago Tribune Staff
October 3, 2002 | United Center, Chicago

For nearly three hours, the South Loop roared with hope, dread, and — by the end — unfiltered jubilation. In a game that featured 25 hits, 22 runs, and more than a few heart palpitations, the Chicago Blackhawks outlasted the Vegas Golden Knights, 14-8, in Game 7 of the Western Conference Semifinals at United Center.

The win propels Chicago into the Western Conference Finals for the fifth time in franchise history. The defending Stanley Cup champions will face the Dallas Stars, who themselves escaped a seven-game series against Calgary just a few hours earlier.

"We're still breathing," Nick Foligno said after the win, sweat glistening on his brow as he stood by the dugout steps. "These games — they take a toll. But we’re not done yet. Not even close."

A Comeback for the Ages
After falling behind 5-2 early, the Hawks responded with resilience and a few heavy swings of the bat. Down 5-3 in the sixth, Chicago erupted for four runs, capped by a grand slam from fourth year phenom Connor Bedard, his fifth home run of the postseason. Just an inning later, they blew the game wide open with a six-run seventh, thanks in part to a pair of doubles by Foligno and four straight plate appearances with men on base.

Foligno, who entered the series as a veteran presence and left it as its undisputed MVP, finished with a staggering .556 batting average, four home runs, and 17 RBI across seven games.

"That’s playoff baseball," manager Rick St. Clair said postgame. “You bend. You stretch. You hope the dam doesn’t break. And then someone like Connor or Nicky just grabs the whole thing by the neck and drags it home.”

Hextall Leads the Charge
If Foligno was the soul of the series, Ron Hextall was its spark. The shortstop homered twice in the first four innings — both solo shots — and ended the night 4-for-5 with four runs scored and two RBI. He reached base in all five plate appearances except one and played a pivotal role turning the double play that snuffed out a Vegas threat in the top of the eighth.

"I just saw the ball well tonight," Hextall said. "And when you're in front of this crowd, man, you want to give them something to remember."

They’ll remember this one for a long time.

Vegas Punches Back, Then Fades
To their credit, the Golden Knights did not go quietly. Ivan Barbashev, a nightmare for Chicago pitchers all series, added four more RBI to his staggering postseason total of 20, including a second-inning grand slam that briefly stunned the sellout crowd of 41,960.

But Vegas’s bullpen collapsed in spectacular fashion. Four relievers combined to give up 11 runs in just three innings, including two wild pitches and three walks with the bases loaded. They used six pitchers in all, none of whom had an answer for Chicago’s middle order.

“It hurts,” Vegas manager Tsunesaburo Tanaka admitted. “But Chicago earned this one.”

Conference Final Awaits
With the win, Chicago will now turn its attention to the Dallas Stars, a team as bruised and battle-tested as the Blackhawks. Dallas won its series 4-3 over the Flames and boasts its own series MVP in Amenzu Jabiri, who hit .481 with 19 RBI.

"It's going to be a war," said Foligno, still gripping the bat handle like he hadn’t let go since the seventh inning. "We’ll rest for about 10 minutes. Then it’s right back to it."

Game 1 of the Western Conference Finals will be held at American Airlines Center in Dallas. Dates and times are expected to be announced by Thursday morning.

BOX SCORE NOTES

Player of the Game: Ron Hextall (CHI) – 4-for-5, 2 HR, 4 R, 2 RBI
Vegas Pitching: J. Baez (L, 0-1) gave up four runs without recording an out in the 6th.
Chicago Pitching: A. Almaraz (W, 1-0) steadied the ship after a rough start, allowing just 3 earned runs over 6.2 innings.
Weather: Partly Cloudy, 55°, Wind 9 mph from right
Attendance: 41,960
Chicago Tribune Coverage Continues:

�� Gallery: United Center erupts in Game 7 celebration
�� Column: Bedard's bat may be young, but it's already legendary
�� Preview: Blackhawks vs. Stars — numbers, matchups, and predictions

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