There are two things that can be said about a game such as this. One takes the form of a string of assorted Anglo-Saxon descriptive adjectives capable of blistering the paint off a battleship. However, as the community guidelines state, profanity is not permitted on this blog, rendering this an unavailable option. The other, while acceptable, is somewhat more difficult to put in a blog post. For whatever reason, spellcheckers have difficulty with inarticulate screams. Guess I'll have to figure out something else.
Games like last night's are best contemplated while listening to the Clash's two biggest hits: "Train In Vain," since it's a sixty minute long trainwreck (well, in this case forty), and "Should I Stay Or Should I Go," something everyone in attendance save the assorted Buffalo boosters in attendance who will use this game as a salve to ease the lingering wounds of Daniel Briere and Chris Drury skating away on the thin ice of the new day, otherwise known as free agency.
But enough stalling; on to the game itself. Nights like this are going to happen. While there are individual screw-ups that can properly be labeled as the reason for this or that goal against, at their core they're team efforts. When everyone individually tries to either atone for their mistakes or simply stop the bleeding, the team falls apart. And you quite deservedly get blown off the ice.
It doesn't help that the Sharks are in full-bore Joe Thornton and the Seventeen Or So Dwarfs mode. Someone else needs to score. Or make plays. Or just . Soon.