I don't know of any other less cataclysmic method of summarizing what tonight is supposed to mean to Habs' fans. Frankly, I'm almost all out of words, period. The same gaggle of enthusiasm that overpowered a whole city (and thensome) after Tomas Plekanec's overtime winner in Game One that prompted the creation of Stanley Cup commercial parodies of "What if Theodore was as good as Miller or Brodeur?" has been replaced with a cloud of devastation and disappointment, all signs pointing to the 3-1 deficit that now seems impossible to surmount.
Impossible because of the missed opportunities on one side and the capitalized opportunities on the other. Impossible because of the lack of consistency in officiating. Impossible because number 1 in the playoffs is facing number 16. Impossible because there were only 6 seconds left in that period.
But is it impossible to show them what we're made of, on their ice, just one more time?
It's been done. We know it's been done. There are some elements of the last decade that haven't been complete aberrations (much to the contrary of what it may seem like now). We remember those, and we remember it was 3-1 then, too.
Jaroslav Halak gets the call. Habs' fans take their seats. Some get out their keyboards (shameless promotion: the live blog on The Checking Line that will take place throughout the game, featuring your comments and writers' insight. I might pop by for a bit myself) and all eyes will be on Game Five, underway at 7 tonight.