Before getting into the game itself, a couple of side notes.
Have you ever noticed how in most every movie located on the streets of New York, there's a minor character named either Lenny or Benny, who's either a cab driver or a small-time bookie, that talks non-stop in an irritating high pitched voice? He was sitting behind Mrs. Dude and I. Oh what fun.
Second, what is with these illegitimate children of Bob or Doug McKenzie who keep showing up at the Tank, then every time their team scores start screaming and carrying on as if they just won the Cup? Look, if I lived in Alberta and had an excuse to visit California in February I'd jump on it too. But try to behave like something other than a cliché, eh?
Anyway, the game. Yeah, the Sharks completely outplayed the Flames, generated all kinds of offense and tons of scoring chances, blah blah blah. But when you didn't capitalize on them because on those occasions (and there were many) when Miikka Kiprusoff wasn't keeping things under control the Sharks had either already packed it in for the shift and peeled off, or simply didn't get to where they needed to be in order to control the rebound, so what? Meanwhile, whenever San Jose would make a mistake, there would be Calgary taking full advantage. Swell.
As to the absence of Patrick Marleau, while the on-ice production level remained the same the bewilderment level noticeably declined.
It's also becoming more than a little noticeable that Evgeni Nabokov is beginning to not so much slip in his level of play as looking worn out. Given the massive road trips forthcoming in the near future, this is definitely a concern.
Not much comfort to be taken in the "yeah but we outplayed them" argument for this one.