The storylines to St. Louis' Stanley Cup triumph are spectacular: First championship in the franchise's 52 years. First team in history to ascend from last overall as late as January into the playoffs, never mind winning it all. First chance to celebrate for one of the league's most consistently committed fan bases.
It's a just reward, that 4-1 Game 7 roll last night in Boston. And it's legitimately a great day for hockey. I believe that.
I also believe we witnessed the rise of Ryan O'Reilly into stardom.
Not that he's ever been some Grade B talent. The Penguins' scouts loved him back in the 2009 NHL Draft, but Ray Shero bypassed him for Simon Despres, and the Avalanche picked him 33rd overall. He averaged 18 goals over a half-dozen seasons in Denver, then 22 over three seasons in Buffalo.
But this season, after being traded to the Blues last summer, he blossomed in every direction, setting career marks with 28 goals, 49 assists, 77 points, a plus-22 and nominations for the Selke and Lady Byng trophies. And that was before becoming an oft-unstoppable force in the playoffs, battling through an early rib injury to produce eight goals and 15 assists in 26 games.
In this Final alone, he scored goals in four consecutive games, the first to do so since Wayne Gretzky in 1985.
None bigger than the icebreaker last night at 16:47 of the first period:
Jay Bouwmeester puts his head down, rips it toward the net, O'Reilly chops his blade downward and deftly redirects it through Tuukka Rask's wickets.
Nothing special, right?
Well, OK. But like so much about these Blues, the appreciation comes from the buildup. Because no one in the league forechecked with their level of tenacity or time of possession, as people found out in Winnipeg, then Dallas, then San Jose and ultimately in Boston. They were a four-line relentless steamroller.
This shift began with a dump-in that wrapped back around to the left point for a routine keep by Bouwmeester:
But watch as O'Reilly and then Pat Maroon overpower the Bruins' Torey Krug and Brandon Carlo behind Rask's net. That's men vs. boys. And it gets even more lopsided once the puck squirts back up the left boards and the Blues' Sammy Blais annihilates the Bruins' Noel Acciari -- shoulder to shoulder, I should add -- and takes command of the puck.
At that stage, with their opponents' ears still buzzing, Blais and O'Reilly exchange passes behind the Boston net before working the puck back to the right point for Colton Parayko.
This is a clearer view from behind:
The Bruins aren't doing much wrong here, it's worth noting. The hustle's there, as is the awareness. They just aren't a physical match.
Once the puck's at the points, O'Reilly fends off a high stick from Carlo and springs out between the hashes. Whatever's about to come toward Rask, he wants a piece of it. Carlo hooks him but smartly peels off before he's penalized.
Doesn't matter. Because, as Reilly would tell reporters in Boston afterward, "All I wanted there was to get my stick free."
He did:
Rask had no chance. And once the Blues scored again late in the period, the Bruins had no chance, either. Because the Blues then went about Blues-ing the rest of the night. More of the above. Boom, boom, boom. Owning the puck all over the rink.
Again, that's nothing special. Nor is it revolutionary, if you ask me. But O'Reilly and the Blues made a forceful statement, and NHL executives won't ignore it. A league that had been swinging far into the direction of speed at the expense of size might swing back, even if slightly and/or gradually. It can be argued that Jim Rutherford and the Penguins already had, to an extent, though their specific effectiveness in that regard is open to debate.
Tomorrow, I'll take a look at where the Bruins went awry in Game 7. And no, it won't just be a stream of Jordan Binnington saves.
