"As much as you want to hit them, I don't think ... well, obviously it’s not working. Basically, all it does is tire you out."
Scott Hartnell is 35. He can barely skate anymore. He can't really play much, either. And heaven knows he's never been accused of burning excess brain cells, certainly not once he steps inside Pittsburgh city limits. He once bit Kris Letang's finger here. Just a month ago, he invested each shift in flagrantly charging random opponents, running up nine hits and probably a pint of blood.
And yet, it was this born-to-be-a-Flyer boor who somehow, with that quote up at the top there, most sweetly summarized this first-round Stanley Cup playoff series that finished Thursday night with the Penguins burying the Blue Jackets, 5-2, in Game 5 at PPG Paints Arena.
Seriously, no one said it better. Not before the series, not after, and definitely not during, including when Hartnell spoke those two truths a couple days ago in Columbus.
He figured it out way before his head coach did. Way before the front office that misguidedly picked up his six-year, $28.5 million contract in 2014 primarily so he could poke and prod at the Penguins, the Blue Jackets' fantasy rival.
Way before it all came to pass, all through this series.
Let's state this plainly, once and for all: These Penguins aren't those Penguins.
"You want to hit me? Fine, come and hit me," Ian Cole was telling me after this one was done. "But you've got to understand, I don't care. Hit me all you want. I'll take it. But I'm going to get the puck past you, and we're going to do something with it."
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