Ottawa at this time of year should be bathed in the radiance of the spring sun, with trees budding and the Tulip spike jutting up from ground. Instead, I look out the window and it's grey and dreary with a sharp wind that penetrates your jacket and swirls in your ears until you get a headache. The local pigeons, rarely shy squatting for food at tourist monuments, huddle on the heating grates just a block from the parliament buildings. There will be no crumbs for them today.
Last night was a surprise visit to the new Scotia Bank Centre (nee Corel Centre) to see the playoff bound Senators lose a nail-biter to the playoff bound Pittsburgh Penguins. The game had all the trappings of a messy affair, with several scrums early on, mostly precipitated by a particularly nasty Gary Roberts who spared no hesitation to run every Senator in his gunsights. Roberts repeatedly backed down the invitation of Chris Neal, though, and Neal, despite several dumb penalties late in the game, was a physical force.
It was also an opportunity to see the much ballyhooed Sidney Crosby display his prowess. He made several good plays: drop passes and centering passes, but few times his passes were met with a penguin stick. Spezza was equally unimpressive and despite several dipsy-doodles to undress defensemen, he was frequently a liability on the ice as opposed to creative playmaker. You got the sense he was trying to be Crosby, but without Crosby's precision. Spezza's grade A dumb reverse, blind, spin-o-rama pass into the middle of the ice, on a promising Ottawa break, resulted in a break-away the other way, with Emery making a crucial save to keep the game 2 to 1 for Pittsburgh. Another fatal give-away by Ottawa led to winning goal, scored with 9 seconds left in the third, sent a torrent of bodies streaming down the stairwells to the exits.
The Scotia Centre is not overly impressive. It's a concrete leviathan in side with little effort to dress up the dreary grey walls and steel girders that are it's exoskeleton. The line for the men's washroom was sinewed throughout the food lines and grew as fast as you could seek its tail. I spent the better part of each period break waiting for that all important piss. Please, bring back the trough! And what's with the infatuation with Tim Horton's down here? Even at the hockey game, the line for Tim's was longer than the line for beer. It got us thinking, most of these people probably tossed their last Tim's cup as they walked into the Scotia Centre in the first place. And where would they go after the game? Tim's anyone?
Tonight it's off for Thai food and some wine back in the hotel room. Virtually everything in downtown Ottawa is closed on Good Friday, except for all the kilten scots celebrating Tartan day at the Parliament buildings. Surely even the Lord himself paused for nice pint while lashed to the cross. Speaking of crosses, we saw on the news that people in the Philippines were actually nailing themselves to crosses to recreate Jesus' famous crucifixion. My God, whenever we see this stuff take place in the Middle East, we say they're all wackos. And Tony Blair, that intellectual pip-squeak from across the pond is actually denying the release of the British Soldiers has anything to do with the release of Iranian diplomats on the same day. Apparently it's just a coincidence; and as usual, the story of the diplomats, arrested by U.S. forces several months ago, is buried in the back pages.
Beyond that, all is well. The eternal flame is burning strong. What happens after this, I don't know, but I do know I'm off until next Sunday. I plan on doin' nothing!
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