The fact that Ryan Miller is injured makes me nervous. It makes a whole bunch of people nervous. And pissed. I was listening to the post-game report on Saturday night, and the announcer came unhinged. It was almost as if he'd forgotten he was hosting a radio show. He sounded more like he was sitting in his living room, a cooler of Canadian beer cracked open at his feet, and asking what the hell was wrong with the NHL these days. The Sabres, he said, were fools not to go after the kid who took Miller out behind the net. Damn fools. You weren't supposed to let anyone run at your goalie like that. Your goalie. He just didn't understand why, on the very next play, one of the boys hadn't dropped his gloves and thrown a punch to say, "You know what? You're never going to do that again, ass-head." He wanted blood.
That sounded good to me, too, and to most of the Buffalo fans who called in to tell him he was absolutely right and that the boys should've gotten busy breaking some noses, some teeth.
Still, even if Ryan Miller is injured, and even if he's out for a vague and undisclosed period of time--which gives me heart palpitations in a not-so-hot way--I was able to get some slightly nicer heart palpitations when I checked on him tonight: