Utah Mammoths Do An Elephant Walk
Over The Detroit Red Wings
Two quick confessions here: First. It's been a minute. My writeup of last week's Stadium Series was the first sports story I've written in over a decade. I'm rusty. Bear with me.
Second. I wasn't sure if I was up to covering a game, so my original intention was to watch the new version of The Muppet Show. I got maybe ten minutes in. Sabrina Carpenter is charming. Kermit is still my ideal man and Animal is undoubtedly my id. Still, it just couldn't hold me. I started flipping through seed catalogs and Bossy Cat got fidgety. Time to check out ESPN.
For some reason, I had it in my head that Nashville was playing in Minnesota. Nope, it was the other way around. No Predators hockey for me. My other choices were Ahdunno at Ahdontcare and Detroit at Utah. It was an easy choice. I've been a Wings'n'Wheels fan longer than I've been Jas Faulkner* and there's been talk about John Gibson's metamorphosis from meh to a pretty darned good goalie. There was also the rather silly rationale that if I couldn't watch the smilodons**, another species of Ice Age megafauna would do. Mammoths for the win!
But I'm getting ahead of myself here.
First period gave those of us who are still trying to decompress from the Stadium Series twenty minutes of fairly clean, disciplined, fast-moving hockey. The grit far outweighed the shenanigans. Utah's Sean Durzi set the tone with an unassisted goal a little shy of one minute after the first puck drop. It was easy to see Andre Tourigny's playbook on the ice, an echo of Coach Q's mid-tens Blackhawks. The Red Wings' response was reactive and frustratingly unfocused. True to form, the puck chatter about Gibson was correct. He made some impressive saves before the clock ran out with an attempt by DET to recover some control of the story on the ice.
Coach McLellan may have had some heart to hearts in the locker room during first intermission. The Red Wings who skated out were much more proactive. For the first time last night, it looked like the Mammoths were going to have to put some effort in keeping up. I'd be lying if I said it wasn't gratifying to watch. Even the five for fighting was worth it. We feel you, Hamonic. As for the pair of hooking offenses by Utah, the designated adult in me wanted to take their sticks away from them until Guenther and Schmidt could behave. Yep. Make 'em play with their hands.***
This proved to be a long, long night for Detroit fans. The score was three to zero in favor of Utah for most of the game. The Wings didn't find the back of the net until Dylan Larkin hit a wrister three quarters of the way into third period. Eleven minutes earlier, Utah's Dylan Guenther shot a very pretty goal right into the back of Detroit's pipes. It really was a thing of beauty, but it also kicked any hopes of a comeback by Detroit further out of reach.
So that was the game. I guess Guenther can keep his stick. Let's hope The Red Wings come back from the Olympic break ready to play.
*Some other time. 'kay?
**Smilodon is the proper genus name of what those of us playing at home in 2026 call saber-toothed tigers. (This is #12 in a series of instances where my anthropology degree is of some use.)
***This is why I am not a coach.
Second. I wasn't sure if I was up to covering a game, so my original intention was to watch the new version of The Muppet Show. I got maybe ten minutes in. Sabrina Carpenter is charming. Kermit is still my ideal man and Animal is undoubtedly my id. Still, it just couldn't hold me. I started flipping through seed catalogs and Bossy Cat got fidgety. Time to check out ESPN.
For some reason, I had it in my head that Nashville was playing in Minnesota. Nope, it was the other way around. No Predators hockey for me. My other choices were Ahdunno at Ahdontcare and Detroit at Utah. It was an easy choice. I've been a Wings'n'Wheels fan longer than I've been Jas Faulkner* and there's been talk about John Gibson's metamorphosis from meh to a pretty darned good goalie. There was also the rather silly rationale that if I couldn't watch the smilodons**, another species of Ice Age megafauna would do. Mammoths for the win!
But I'm getting ahead of myself here.
First period gave those of us who are still trying to decompress from the Stadium Series twenty minutes of fairly clean, disciplined, fast-moving hockey. The grit far outweighed the shenanigans. Utah's Sean Durzi set the tone with an unassisted goal a little shy of one minute after the first puck drop. It was easy to see Andre Tourigny's playbook on the ice, an echo of Coach Q's mid-tens Blackhawks. The Red Wings' response was reactive and frustratingly unfocused. True to form, the puck chatter about Gibson was correct. He made some impressive saves before the clock ran out with an attempt by DET to recover some control of the story on the ice.
Coach McLellan may have had some heart to hearts in the locker room during first intermission. The Red Wings who skated out were much more proactive. For the first time last night, it looked like the Mammoths were going to have to put some effort in keeping up. I'd be lying if I said it wasn't gratifying to watch. Even the five for fighting was worth it. We feel you, Hamonic. As for the pair of hooking offenses by Utah, the designated adult in me wanted to take their sticks away from them until Guenther and Schmidt could behave. Yep. Make 'em play with their hands.***
This proved to be a long, long night for Detroit fans. The score was three to zero in favor of Utah for most of the game. The Wings didn't find the back of the net until Dylan Larkin hit a wrister three quarters of the way into third period. Eleven minutes earlier, Utah's Dylan Guenther shot a very pretty goal right into the back of Detroit's pipes. It really was a thing of beauty, but it also kicked any hopes of a comeback by Detroit further out of reach.
So that was the game. I guess Guenther can keep his stick. Let's hope The Red Wings come back from the Olympic break ready to play.
*Some other time. 'kay?
**Smilodon is the proper genus name of what those of us playing at home in 2026 call saber-toothed tigers. (This is #12 in a series of instances where my anthropology degree is of some use.)
***This is why I am not a coach.