Puck Around & Find Out is a weekly comedy hockey blog, Boltsy’s chirping everything, skates still on and the music still up: quick chirps, big vibes, and hard calls. It hits fast and loud, like a locker room talk with the boys.
SET THE TONE
Everybody in this league loves saying “set the tone” like it’s a warm cup of coffee you sip on the bench.
What the hell is “tone,” anyway?
Because it’s not the first goal. It’s not the anthem. It’s not the opening faceoff win where the winger claps like he just invented effort.
Tone is: what happens when nothing is happening yet and you still decide the other team is gonna hate every inch of ice they touch.
Tone is a defenseman taking away time early so the other bench starts doing math. Tone is a forward getting a stick in ribs on the forecheck and letting the guy know, no free exits tonight. Tone is a simple rim you turn into a car crash because you beat a man to a spot and you stay on him until the whistle begs you to stop.
Tone is not vibes. Tone is contact. Tone is pace. Tone is first blood without the scoreboard.
And if you don’t set it? Someone else does. And they set it on your face.
Sharks at Canucks. 5–2.
Vancouver scores first and for a second you think, okay, we’re awake. And then Vancouver immediately starts playing like they’re trying not to wrinkle the jerseys.
San Jose goes bang-bang-bang: three goals on the first six shots in a 4:04 span and the whole thing turns into that dead, quiet scramble where nobody wants to be the guy who missed the assignment, so everyone becomes the guy who missed the assignment.
Lankinen’s gone at 5:55 after three on six. That’s not “on him.” That’s Tocchet going: wake up — somebody’s paying for this start.
You score first… and then you spend the next five minutes proving you didn’t mean it.
YOU HAVE GOT TO SET THE TONE, BOYS!!!!
After that, Vancouver’s playing chase. Not fast chase — panic chase. Reaching. Fishing. Stick-on-puck prayers. Guys “closing” like they don’t want to finish a hit. You can feel it: everything’s half a step late and everybody’s hoping the puck just… leaves.
San Jose isn’t hoping. San Jose is hunting. They’re stapling guys on the wall, taking the rim away, killing breakouts before they breathe. One Canuck tries to get cute on the exit — little curl, little touch — and the Sharks are already on his hands like it’s rent day. Now it’s glass. Now it’s chip. Now it’s dump-and-change because the middle’s gone and the wall’s a fight.
YOU HAVE GOT TO SET THE TONE!!!!!
And Vancouver keeps trying to solve it with clean hockey. Little hope play through skates. Little “we’ll make one pass and be out.” Buddy — if they’re leaning on you like that, you don’t negotiate. You get it out, you get it deep, you get a body, and you make their D turn and eat it.
San Jose took the first six minutes and made it the whole night. Vancouver spent the rest of the game trying to get back to “comfortable” and the Sharks never let ‘em.
YOU HAVE GOT TO SET THE TONE!!!!!
Roy’s not doing poetry up there. He’s telling you the part everybody tries to hide.
Passed up too many shots. Seven power-play shots.
Okay. Cool. So we’re not “unlucky.” We’re cute.
3:10. Puck dies on the half wall. Lane’s there. Net’s staring at you. You turn your wrists like you’re about to rip it—and then you bail and push it back up top.
SHOOT THE PUCK!!!!
3:22. It comes back down again. Same look, same lane, now the kill is already leaning into your habits. You still double-clutch and slide it sideways like you’re shopping for a cleaner goal.
SHOOT THE PUCK!!!!
3:34. Now you’ve made it a full lap. Everybody’s touched it, everybody’s waiting, and the one thing that actually breaks a kill—an ugly shot through bodies—you refuse again. Net’s right there. Traffic’s right there. You pass anyway.
SHOOT THE PUCK!!!!
SNIPE SHOW
Lightning in Chicago. 2–1 shootout.
This is the kind of game that tries to die three different times and Tampa just drags it back onto the ice by the collar.
Ryan Greene pops Chicago in front, Kucherov ties it late in the second like he’s bored of the storyline, and then we get to the part where everybody’s hands start shaking and pretending they’re not.
Fifth round. Dominic James.
He doesn’t come in like a guy hoping the goalie bites. He comes in like the goalie already bit and the video just hasn’t caught up yet.
Calm feet. No panic. No “please work.” Just walks him out, slides it under the door, and leaves Soderblom standing there staring at the crease like the crease owes him money.
That’s a snipe. Not “nice move.” Not “good patience.” That’s you’re done.
That’s the crown this week. Period.
HOT HOCKEY BABES
Alright, now time for the real snipe show of the week.
PWHL Montréal.
Maureen Murphy.
Player of the Week.
This is Murphy doing that thing where she makes the whole rink feel smaller.
She gets the puck and it’s instant: head up, shoulders quiet, hands already loaded. No stick taps, no “settle it,” no dust. She’s not looking for a play — she is the play. She’s already in the lane and everybody else is just trying to survive the shift.
Watch the defender: gap closes late because the gap’s a lie when Murphy decides it’s go-time. Watch the goalie: set point turns into a guess, and guesses don’t live long when a shooter can change the angle off one stride.
That release is disrespectful in the correct hockey way.
Catch, pull, rip — bar-down energy without the theatrics. She doesn’t celly like it’s a miracle. She peels off like, yeah, that’s what happens when you give me space.
That’s why she’s the babe. Not because the puck went in. Because she owns the moment before it even does. The whole rink knows what’s coming and it still happens.
Keep it clean — we’re talking hands and release points, not pickup lines.
That’s a snipe. Respect the craft.
Settle down, fellas — she’s outta your league.
That’s top-line talent — you’re waiver-wire confidence.
Go sharpen your skates — you’re getting benched for thinking.
Alright —Tip your cap. Moving on.
CONE / SIN BIN / BEAUT
CONE
The Toronto Maple Leafs are the CONE this week. Team-level. No individuals. No loopholes.
https://www.espn.com/nhl/recap/_/gameId/401803182
The Toronto Maple Leafs get a five-game homestand and turn it into a slow public collapse: 0–4–1, one point, the building full every night and the hockey getting smaller every period.
Then the closer, the one that makes the whole thing official: the Buffalo Sabres walk into Scotiabank and hang seven in a 7–4 win like they’re running a drill with the lights on.
The Buffalo Sabres didn’t “catch” the Toronto Maple Leafs — the Buffalo Sabres treated the Toronto Maple Leafs. Hat trick, five points, and a scoreboard that starts feeling like it’s yelling.
That’s Cone behavior: the Toronto Maple Leafs spending the whole week looking for a moment that never shows up, while the Buffalo Sabres show up and take the night anyway.
SIN BIN
Alright, Rust gets three for tagging Boeser and the league’s back on its annual Department of Vibes tour.
You know the rep: puck’s gone, guy pivots, shoulder comes through, and suddenly we’re watching a Zapruder cut with telestrator circles like it’s a Saturday night rules clinic. They stamp it “illegal check to the head,” hand out a three-game sit, and everybody acts stunned like this league doesn’t live in the grey between the dots.
Rust isn’t out there running a headhunting clinic — he’s finishing a hit through traffic and Boeser’s in that spot where you’re one bad edge away from turning shoulder-to-chest into shoulder-to-court-date. That’s hockey: bang-bang, bodies, timing, and whoever looks worst on the freeze-frame eats the week.
Three games is the funniest number, too. Not a warning. Not a statement. Just enough to say “we’re on it” while the next identical collision is already queued up on tomorrow’s slate.
Three games. Door closes.
Chair’s warm. Sin bin.
BEAUT
Rasmus Dahlin walked into Toronto and put up a first-career hat trick plus five points like he was the extra attacker for all three periods. Captain on the back, touch on the blade, and every time the puck hit his stick the whole shift tilted toward “something’s about to happen.” That’s not a hot night — that’s a defenseman running the game from the blue line like it’s his remote.
Beaut behavior. Loud hands. Calm feet. Whole building on notice.
Dahlin night. Don’t touch the thermostat.
PUCK AROUND
DUHAIME INVENTED “BENCH SPEARING”
Buddy reached out from the pine and jabbed Jacob Melanson like he was poking the elevator button that already lit up. League hits him $2,500 and then—because hockey is a closed-loop system—they fight later anyway. Capitals lose 5–1 and he still manages to be the most embarrassing thing in the building while wearing a track suit.
GOALIE FIGHT: “ACCOUNTANTS WITH KNIVES”
Nothing says the week’s cooked like two goalies deciding to clock in for a second job at center ice. Bobrovsky takes the scenic route from his crease like a villain who just heard his name, Nedeljkovic answers, and now you’ve got a full goalie tilt with equipment flapping like tarp in a storm. Everybody on both benches suddenly pretends they’ve always wanted “more goalie aggression.”
CHICAGO DID THE 3–0 VANISHING ACT
Hawks go up 3–0 and start playing like the third period is optional DLC. Wild drag it back, Spurgeon ties it late, Kaprizov ends it in the shootout, and Wallstedt sits there stopping all three attempts like “this is what you brought me?” Chicago turned a three-goal lead into a community donation.
SENNECKE WENT FULL MAIN CHARACTER
Rookie Beckett Sennecke doesn’t just get the hat trick — he completes it in overtime like he’s signing autographs mid-rush. First NHL hatty and he’s the one with the OT dagger too. That’s not a breakout game. That’s a birth certificate getting stamped on live TV.
THE REF DID AN APOLOGY TOUR
Lane Hutson gets clipped with a phantom call so nasty the ref skates over and apologizes like he just spilled a drink on your laptop. “My bad” doesn’t un-tilt a game, champ. That’s not officiating — that’s customer service with stripes.
HERSHEY MITES ON ICE TURNED INTO UFC 0.5
Intermission “Mites on Ice” turns into a full tiny-line brawl and the crowd reacts like they just watched a heavyweight belt change hands. Then the adults roll out statements, investigations, condemnations — like the sport didn’t spend 100 years teaching everyone that the solution is “sort it out.” Hockey culture showed up in a smaller font and nobody loved what they saw.
Alright, that’s enough puckin’ around.
THUNDERSTRUCK
Alright. Bolts the last two weeks felt like this: we’re driving the play, we’re annoying on purpose, and we’re winning even when the game tries to die. And then Columbus happened and we all had to sit there like, “who left the backdoor open and why is it wearing skates?”
St. Louis didn’t “beat” us — they survived us and the game fell into that shootout coin-flip lane where the only thing that matters is one move and a goalie guessing wrong. Everybody got dramatic. I got annoyed. Next.
Dallas, San Jose, Chicago: workmanlike Tampa. Hagel’s cooking, Kuch ties games like it’s routine, and we’ll win a boring game and make you hate watching it. That’s our brand when we’re locked.
Eight-five is not “one of those nights.” Eight-five is a parole violation. Four against in the first? That’s showing up late and trying to apologize with offense. We score five and it still doesn’t matter because we were giving up rushes like it’s open ice.
That game had every kind of stink: soft clears that die on the wall forwards tracking like they’re following the play on a delay D gaps so polite you’d hold the door for the puck carrier
And if your takeaway was “well we scored five,” congrats — you’re the reason coaches drink.
Then comes the response, and that’s why I’m not spiraling: Utah, 2–0, Vasy shutout. Building turns into a freezer. Structure back. Adults in charge. That’s the reset.
Hagel’s dragging pace. Kuch is still Kuch. Vasy is the emergency brake.
Columbus was fake. The response was real.
Alright — before we get outta here, the Kid’s got notes.
FIND OUT
[EPISODE’S OVER. THE KID HAS A MIC AND A CLIPBOARD LIKE IT’S A BUILDING INSPECTION.]
THE KID: Set The Tone: you screamed it three times and somehow Vancouver still didn’t hear you.
[MIC TO BOLTSY. PULLS IT BACK BEFORE HE CAN TALK.]
THE KID: Snipe Show: Dominic James in the fifth round — calm feet, no panic, pure disrespect. Approved.
THE KID: Hot Hockey Babes: you stayed on craft. You didn’t turn it into a comment section. That’s growth.
[FLIPS PAGE LIKE HE’S LOOKING FOR VIOLATIONS.]
THE KID: Cone: Leafs. Team-level. No loopholes. Clean work.
Sin Bin: Rust three games. Department of Vibes, chair’s warm.
Beaut: Dahlin five points. Thermostat untouched.
[MIC UNDER BOLTSY’S CHIN.]
BOLTSY: We just gotta—
[CUTS HIM OFF]
THE KID: No. Appraisal.
THE KID: Puck Around: you hit six stories in six breaths.
Bench jab? Daycare.
Goalie fight? Heritage.
3–0 collapse? Donation.
Sennecke? Door kicked in.
Ref apology? Customer service.
Mites brawl? Culture in smaller font.
[THE KID TAPS THE CLIPBOARD ON BOLTSY’S CHEST PLATE LIKE A WARNING.]
THE KID: Thunderstruck: main segment. You kept it honest. You called Columbus a parole violation.
You did not turn it into “woe is me.” You made it tape.
Then you logged the reset. That’s adult hockey.
THE KID: Here’s the only note. When you say “keep it in the room,” and then you write it into the episode…
that is not privacy.
that is publishing.
THE KID: Final grade:
Set The Tone: loud.
Puck Around: efficient.
Thunderstruck: primary.
Boltsy: still guilty.
[SHOVES MIC IN ONE LAST TIME]
THE KID: This is The Kid, Halfbak3d, proudly supported by the Set The Tone Enforcement Bureau.
