No Datsyuk. No Lidstrom (and Chelios never plays more than five minutes, so make that "no Lidstrom and only five defensemen"). No Draper on faceoffs. Jesus Havlat on the ice -- you should have heard the cheering during warm-ups. You'd think no one was at home, that infiltration and reward was a possibility this afternoon, but you'd be wrong. Instead, it was misstep after misstep, booby trap after booby trap. Slapstick rather than hockey, a rollerskate rec league type of game. And in the end, the smart ones got the happy ending.

Congratulations, 'Hawks, you just rewrote Home Alone -- from the POV of the Wet Bandits.

If there's a silver lining, it's hair-thin, and it depends on this team being a bunch of prideful motherfuckers. I hope the postmatch team talk consisted of Scotty Bowman hanging up a gigantic mirror in the middle of the locker room, so that every single player and coach had to look at himself as he leaves the rink. And then I hope they erase this game out of their memories. Go into Detroit. Take the risks, but not at the expense of the reward. Fight to win, and not just to make a point, because that never works out when winning isn't the point of fighting.

Then come home and do it the right way. If they have to say goodbye, say it here. Let us bring the house down one more time. Don't let this afternoon's echoing silence be the ellipsis on the season.