DK: These Penguins knew about themselves well before this
They knew.
Not here, though. This wasn't where it happened, I can attest with conviction.
It wasn't when Egor Chinakov looked off the entirety of the Prudential Center on this Thursday night before blindly setting up this Bryan Rust beauty:
"I wasn't sure," Chinakhov would tell me with a grin when I asked if even he'd anticipated he'd pass that one. "But it worked, right?"
Sure did, kid. Everything he's touched since arriving has turned to ... well, black and gold.
But that wasn't it, either. That wasn't when they knew that this franchise, not so long ago a Stanley Cup playoff fixture, would be making it back for the first time since 2022.
Nor was it this symbolism-coated sealer from, of all people, Sidney Crosby and Evgeni Malkin:
Nor was it even once these precocious 2025-26 Pittsburgh Penguins had finished the Devils, 5-2, to finally, formally have that little X down there affixed to the standings:
NHL
Nope. Because they'd known before. Way before.
____________________
Flash back to the seventh of October. Season opener. Madison Square Garden. Just across the Hudson River from here.
Expectations couldn't have been lower. This was supposed to have been, by every reckoning, inside and outside the organization, another step in Kyle Dubas' methodical ... if it's not a rebuild, then a reload or a restructure? Whatever the label, it was well underway, and almost nothing about the summer's low-level activity -- Anthony Mantha? Seriously? That old guy with the bum knee? -- was about to change anyone's minds. Least of all the, uh, creative Canadian media that was busy concocting so many trade rumors about Sid, Geno, Bryan Rust, Rickard Rakell and others that it'd convinced pretty much the whole hockey world that this was about to be lottery or bust.
One problem: All of that was bunk to begin with, as I'd been told from the inside.
Second problem: It never, of course, occurred.
Third problem: No one really seemed to get that memo.
I recall a day spent in Cranberry, Pa., early in training camp, watching part of a session alongside Dubas from atop the risers. It wasn't some formal interview or anything, so I did the bulk of the chit-chatting, but I did dare to ask the one question it seemed nobody'd been asking of him ahead of the coming season: Can this team make the playoffs?
I got the sense he was somewhat taken aback, given that most of his answers had been about prospects and projects and potential selloffs. But he smiled slightly and answered, "Yeah, we can. Things have to go right, but we can."
They didn't just go right. They went close to perfectly.
I've been in this line of work in our city for more than three decades, my friends, and I've been telling anyone who'll listen I've never seen an executive nail a single summer the way Dubas did. Nobody ever hits on every move, but he came as close as anyone I've covered. And I could proceed to list all of the various Justin Brazeau, Connor Dewar and Parker Wotherspoon additions he nailed. And I could remind that Ben Kindel, an 18-year-old who'll never ride a minor-league bus, was selected after 10 other prospects in the most recent NHL Draft. And I could add the superb midseason acquisition of Chinakhov, one worthy of the great Craig Patrick in terms of its boldness and ambition.
And I could take it further:
PENGUINS
I'll instead share that, as our conversation that September day proceeded, the first player Dubas would point out to me as pivotal ... was Mantha.
Yeah, he's good. They're all good, Dubas' staff.
The coach he hired isn't too bad, either.
All I knew about Dan Muse upon his arrival was that he wasn't Mike Sullivan, and I couldn't have guessed at whether that was good or bad. I'd been aware that Sullivan's welcome had been worn, but that wouldn't have mattered if he'd been replaced by someone buried by the burden of replacing him. And of being tasked with the bizarre blend of developing young talent while dealing with living legends.
He's been brilliant. His system. His consistency of message. His bona fide belief in the players he deploys, one that boomerangs back at him with big-time faith. And maybe above all, his passion, something he doesn't display to the public too often.
After this game, in the cramped visitors' locker room, I saw Muse having an intense-looking talk with Rust at the latter's stall, almost forehead to forehead. It's not a normal sight in a postgame setting, but this wasn't just any setting. And Rust's not just any figure in this orbit. He's the heart and soul.
I asked Rust, soon after that, what returning to the playoffs means to him, a two-time champion in this sweater. The answer didn't disappoint:
"Feels great," he'd begin, as if I was about to be sold some stock answer.
But then ...
"I'll be honest: It feels a little bit better given the outside expectation all year, giving a big middle finger to a lot of people, I think, feels good."
"For me," he'd proceed, "I've seen the top of the mountain and I've seen not making the playoffs. I've seen the bottom. And I think it doesn't matter what year it is, what you think might come in the future, you don't take for granted the opportunities that you have in front of you. I think, in my earlier years, after my first two years winning the Cup, I thought we'd be in the playoffs every year. But I was sadly mistaken. And I think with this group we have in here, with the opportunity that we have with how we've come together as a team, I think, we can't take that for granted."
Beautiful.
Almost as beautiful as looking back on this big chart from the oddsmakers at MoneyPuck.com illustrating all 32 NHL teams' chance of success in 2025-26:
MONEYPUCK
I'll spare everyone the eye-strain: Third-worst odds of anyone just to make the playoffs.
Any space to superimpose a middle finger on there?
____________________
OK, so, back to the Garden.
The Penguins prevailed that night, 3-0, swarming the Rangers way back when people thought their piece of the pie would be like what's just above. It felt like a big deal. Arguably, in that raucous place with real excitement having been riled up for Sullivan on the home bench, it legitimately was a big deal.
There was more, though. The visitors weren't just feisty. They were fast. And they were together. And they stuck up for each other all over the ice. And they didn't fold at the first sign of something going amiss.
This was ... different. That's the term I'd keep referencing in any discussion.
And once this game was done, and once Sid's regular media obligations were done at his stall, I ran some of these observations by him, grafting those onto other talks we'd had through camp and the preseason as all of this was being assembled.
As I thought we'd finished and he'd slung his big equipment bag over his shoulder, he turned around and said, "Yeah, but you know what? There's more there. We can do better."
It was one thing to hear it from the higher-ups before the season. Another to hear it from the new coach, or Kris Letang and other leaders. But it's quite another, always, when it's Sid.
I reminded him of that remark after this game here, and he responded matter-of-factly, "It's a long season. It takes time to come together. We did that as a team."
But he knew. And that's when he knew.
He couldn't have known precisely how. Oh, I'm betting he felt strongly that he and Geno could both go point-a-game again. But he couldn't have known, even though everyone marveled at the camp Erik Karlsson had, that he'd rediscover Norris Trophy form. Or that the league's very best fourth line would emerge from Blake Lizotte between Noel Acciari and Dewar. Or that Mantha would blow through a career high to exceed 30 goals. Or that Chinakhov would be acquired for a song to lead the team in goals for this calendar year.
Or any of all of this:
PENGUINS
Know what else Sid couldn't have known?
(Hint: I'm certain of this because I had to inform him myself after this game.)
That these Penguins are the highest-scoring team of his tenure in the NHL.
"Really? Wow."
Really. With a handful more here, they've now got 282 goals, third-most in the league -- an astounding achievement unto itself, weighed against expectations and longer-term injuries to Sid, Geno, Rakell and others -- and the previous high in the Crosby era had been the 279 of the 2016-17 champs.
Nothing to overthink with how it's happened: Sure, scoring's up everywhere and save percentages are down, but there's far more to be spoken for having a dozen players with double-digit goals, all with at least 12, setting a franchise record with the latter.
"It's a team, a true team," Karlsson would tell me after this. "We had contributions from everyone."
Pause.
"But Geno’s mad at me.”
Oh, boy. So yeah, I absolutely should broach this, too: It's a team that gets along magnificently. The bond's been in place from the beginning, there's never even been a bump of any kind off the ice according to those who'd know best, and it's created a culture that those who were part of it will credit first, not last, with how this unfolded.
Except Geno, of course. And yeah, I played along and asked.
"He wanted the empty-netter, I shot it, and he's mad at me," Karlsson would explain.
Mad enough, apparently, that this would carry over onto a dialogue deeper into the night under Rakell's innocuous posting about the clinching:
ERIK KARLSSON / INSTAGRAM
Go ahead and laugh, but this stuff matters.
And so does, as a result, what's coming next.
____________________
For me, again, the belief began at the Garden.
I asked Muse after this game, and his began much earlier:
"I think in training camp," he'd say of when he thought he had a good team. "Before the season."
Why? What'd he see?
"I mean, I just saw the competitive nature of the group. That combination of the competitiveness and the different players we have, the way you'd be able to see we'd have a full lineup and depth and options and go out on the ice in different situations. And as we went through training camp and exhibition games, a lot of belief was built up for our staff. But I think the group was believing, as well."
Of making the playoffs, he'd add, “It’s a big step for the group. I’m proud of these guys, happy for these guys, the staff, everybody involved. The players have done a great job throughout the year. We talked about earning things at the beginning of the year, and this group earned it.”
They earned this video, too, that the Penguins' social media team put out shortly after the game, including the salt and snarl all through it:
When this ended, there was no whooping, no hollering, no visible, audible celebration of any kind. And I was close enough to the locker room to report that the lone noise was the standard smattering of applause following the presentation of the postgame helmet:
And it doesn't sound like they're set, especially the resident serial winner, to see it end.
“I know how hard it is,” Sid would say. “I understand that. We’ve had some tough finishes where it’s come down to the last day and we didn’t get in, and you don’t ever know. I thought right from camp that we’ve had playoff intentions and had that belief. I’m just really happy that we’re going back there.”
Happiest I've seen him in some time. He's an easy read on this subject in any event, but I can't even imagine this following all the fuss that he'd want to leave Pittsburgh because he'd never win here again, and all that.
"It's exciting," he'd add. "That’s why you play. It's the best time of the year. And to know that we’re going to be there, that we set out to do that ... it’s nice to get rewarded. Everybody's had a part in this. Especially with this group, everybody’s contributed to get here.”
Bring on the Flyers. Or Islanders. Or Blue Jackets.
THE ASYLUM
DK: These Penguins knew about themselves well before this
They knew.
Not here, though. This wasn't where it happened, I can attest with conviction.
It wasn't when Egor Chinakov looked off the entirety of the Prudential Center on this Thursday night before blindly setting up this Bryan Rust beauty:
"I wasn't sure," Chinakhov would tell me with a grin when I asked if even he'd anticipated he'd pass that one. "But it worked, right?"
Sure did, kid. Everything he's touched since arriving has turned to ... well, black and gold.
But that wasn't it, either. That wasn't when they knew that this franchise, not so long ago a Stanley Cup playoff fixture, would be making it back for the first time since 2022.
Nor was it this symbolism-coated sealer from, of all people, Sidney Crosby and Evgeni Malkin:
Nor was it even once these precocious 2025-26 Pittsburgh Penguins had finished the Devils, 5-2, to finally, formally have that little X down there affixed to the standings:
NHL
Nope. Because they'd known before. Way before.
____________________
Flash back to the seventh of October. Season opener. Madison Square Garden. Just across the Hudson River from here.
Expectations couldn't have been lower. This was supposed to have been, by every reckoning, inside and outside the organization, another step in Kyle Dubas' methodical ... if it's not a rebuild, then a reload or a restructure? Whatever the label, it was well underway, and almost nothing about the summer's low-level activity -- Anthony Mantha? Seriously? That old guy with the bum knee? -- was about to change anyone's minds. Least of all the, uh, creative Canadian media that was busy concocting so many trade rumors about Sid, Geno, Bryan Rust, Rickard Rakell and others that it'd convinced pretty much the whole hockey world that this was about to be lottery or bust.
One problem: All of that was bunk to begin with, as I'd been told from the inside.
Second problem: It never, of course, occurred.
Third problem: No one really seemed to get that memo.
I recall a day spent in Cranberry, Pa., early in training camp, watching part of a session alongside Dubas from atop the risers. It wasn't some formal interview or anything, so I did the bulk of the chit-chatting, but I did dare to ask the one question it seemed nobody'd been asking of him ahead of the coming season: Can this team make the playoffs?
I got the sense he was somewhat taken aback, given that most of his answers had been about prospects and projects and potential selloffs. But he smiled slightly and answered, "Yeah, we can. Things have to go right, but we can."
They didn't just go right. They went close to perfectly.
I've been in this line of work in our city for more than three decades, my friends, and I've been telling anyone who'll listen I've never seen an executive nail a single summer the way Dubas did. Nobody ever hits on every move, but he came as close as anyone I've covered. And I could proceed to list all of the various Justin Brazeau, Connor Dewar and Parker Wotherspoon additions he nailed. And I could remind that Ben Kindel, an 18-year-old who'll never ride a minor-league bus, was selected after 10 other prospects in the most recent NHL Draft. And I could add the superb midseason acquisition of Chinakhov, one worthy of the great Craig Patrick in terms of its boldness and ambition.
And I could take it further:
PENGUINS
I'll instead share that, as our conversation that September day proceeded, the first player Dubas would point out to me as pivotal ... was Mantha.
Yeah, he's good. They're all good, Dubas' staff.
The coach he hired isn't too bad, either.
All I knew about Dan Muse upon his arrival was that he wasn't Mike Sullivan, and I couldn't have guessed at whether that was good or bad. I'd been aware that Sullivan's welcome had been worn, but that wouldn't have mattered if he'd been replaced by someone buried by the burden of replacing him. And of being tasked with the bizarre blend of developing young talent while dealing with living legends.
He's been brilliant. His system. His consistency of message. His bona fide belief in the players he deploys, one that boomerangs back at him with big-time faith. And maybe above all, his passion, something he doesn't display to the public too often.
After this game, in the cramped visitors' locker room, I saw Muse having an intense-looking talk with Rust at the latter's stall, almost forehead to forehead. It's not a normal sight in a postgame setting, but this wasn't just any setting. And Rust's not just any figure in this orbit. He's the heart and soul.
I asked Rust, soon after that, what returning to the playoffs means to him, a two-time champion in this sweater. The answer didn't disappoint:
"Feels great," he'd begin, as if I was about to be sold some stock answer.
But then ...
"I'll be honest: It feels a little bit better given the outside expectation all year, giving a big middle finger to a lot of people, I think, feels good."
Now that's how one wins the media good guy award, boys and girls.
"For me," he'd proceed, "I've seen the top of the mountain and I've seen not making the playoffs. I've seen the bottom. And I think it doesn't matter what year it is, what you think might come in the future, you don't take for granted the opportunities that you have in front of you. I think, in my earlier years, after my first two years winning the Cup, I thought we'd be in the playoffs every year. But I was sadly mistaken. And I think with this group we have in here, with the opportunity that we have with how we've come together as a team, I think, we can't take that for granted."
Beautiful.
Almost as beautiful as looking back on this big chart from the oddsmakers at MoneyPuck.com illustrating all 32 NHL teams' chance of success in 2025-26:
MONEYPUCK
I'll spare everyone the eye-strain: Third-worst odds of anyone just to make the playoffs.
Any space to superimpose a middle finger on there?
____________________
OK, so, back to the Garden.
The Penguins prevailed that night, 3-0, swarming the Rangers way back when people thought their piece of the pie would be like what's just above. It felt like a big deal. Arguably, in that raucous place with real excitement having been riled up for Sullivan on the home bench, it legitimately was a big deal.
There was more, though. The visitors weren't just feisty. They were fast. And they were together. And they stuck up for each other all over the ice. And they didn't fold at the first sign of something going amiss.
This was ... different. That's the term I'd keep referencing in any discussion.
And once this game was done, and once Sid's regular media obligations were done at his stall, I ran some of these observations by him, grafting those onto other talks we'd had through camp and the preseason as all of this was being assembled.
As I thought we'd finished and he'd slung his big equipment bag over his shoulder, he turned around and said, "Yeah, but you know what? There's more there. We can do better."
Remember this?
It was one thing to hear it from the higher-ups before the season. Another to hear it from the new coach, or Kris Letang and other leaders. But it's quite another, always, when it's Sid.
I reminded him of that remark after this game here, and he responded matter-of-factly, "It's a long season. It takes time to come together. We did that as a team."
But he knew. And that's when he knew.
He couldn't have known precisely how. Oh, I'm betting he felt strongly that he and Geno could both go point-a-game again. But he couldn't have known, even though everyone marveled at the camp Erik Karlsson had, that he'd rediscover Norris Trophy form. Or that the league's very best fourth line would emerge from Blake Lizotte between Noel Acciari and Dewar. Or that Mantha would blow through a career high to exceed 30 goals. Or that Chinakhov would be acquired for a song to lead the team in goals for this calendar year.
Or any of all of this:
PENGUINS
Know what else Sid couldn't have known?
(Hint: I'm certain of this because I had to inform him myself after this game.)
That these Penguins are the highest-scoring team of his tenure in the NHL.
"Really? Wow."
Really. With a handful more here, they've now got 282 goals, third-most in the league -- an astounding achievement unto itself, weighed against expectations and longer-term injuries to Sid, Geno, Rakell and others -- and the previous high in the Crosby era had been the 279 of the 2016-17 champs.
Nothing to overthink with how it's happened: Sure, scoring's up everywhere and save percentages are down, but there's far more to be spoken for having a dozen players with double-digit goals, all with at least 12, setting a franchise record with the latter.
"It's a team, a true team," Karlsson would tell me after this. "We had contributions from everyone."
Pause.
"But Geno’s mad at me.”
Oh, boy. So yeah, I absolutely should broach this, too: It's a team that gets along magnificently. The bond's been in place from the beginning, there's never even been a bump of any kind off the ice according to those who'd know best, and it's created a culture that those who were part of it will credit first, not last, with how this unfolded.
Except Geno, of course. And yeah, I played along and asked.
"He wanted the empty-netter, I shot it, and he's mad at me," Karlsson would explain.
Mad enough, apparently, that this would carry over onto a dialogue deeper into the night under Rakell's innocuous posting about the clinching:
ERIK KARLSSON / INSTAGRAM
Go ahead and laugh, but this stuff matters.
And so does, as a result, what's coming next.
____________________
For me, again, the belief began at the Garden.
I asked Muse after this game, and his began much earlier:
"I think in training camp," he'd say of when he thought he had a good team. "Before the season."
Why? What'd he see?
"I mean, I just saw the competitive nature of the group. That combination of the competitiveness and the different players we have, the way you'd be able to see we'd have a full lineup and depth and options and go out on the ice in different situations. And as we went through training camp and exhibition games, a lot of belief was built up for our staff. But I think the group was believing, as well."
Of making the playoffs, he'd add, “It’s a big step for the group. I’m proud of these guys, happy for these guys, the staff, everybody involved. The players have done a great job throughout the year. We talked about earning things at the beginning of the year, and this group earned it.”
They earned this video, too, that the Penguins' social media team put out shortly after the game, including the salt and snarl all through it:
That's fun.
So ... it's all gravy now, right?
Eh.
When this ended, there was no whooping, no hollering, no visible, audible celebration of any kind. And I was close enough to the locker room to report that the lone noise was the standard smattering of applause following the presentation of the postgame helmet:
That's fun, too.
And it doesn't sound like they're set, especially the resident serial winner, to see it end.
“I know how hard it is,” Sid would say. “I understand that. We’ve had some tough finishes where it’s come down to the last day and we didn’t get in, and you don’t ever know. I thought right from camp that we’ve had playoff intentions and had that belief. I’m just really happy that we’re going back there.”
Happiest I've seen him in some time. He's an easy read on this subject in any event, but I can't even imagine this following all the fuss that he'd want to leave Pittsburgh because he'd never win here again, and all that.
"It's exciting," he'd add. "That’s why you play. It's the best time of the year. And to know that we’re going to be there, that we set out to do that ... it’s nice to get rewarded. Everybody's had a part in this. Especially with this group, everybody’s contributed to get here.”
Bring on the Flyers. Or Islanders. Or Blue Jackets.
Then whoever's next.
Man, who could've known?
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