Here's my problem: Nothing really rhymes with Ovechkin.
You know, other than "Gobetchkin." Or "Mushneztkin." And they're kind of hard to work into a clever catchphrase for the best young hockey player this city has ever had.
This kid, apparently, is the goods. Choice Words' chief researcher and hockey know-it-all, Michael Wilbon said: "He's a mini-Bobby Hull. He's a blur, and his shot is a blur." (What, you thought I didn't have a researcher? You thought I came up with all this vast knowledge by myself? Please.)
What Alex Ovechkin does is score goals. Which the Caps need, since they tend to give up, oh, about eight a game. This kid is a cannon. Almost every night Ovechkin puts the proverbial biscuit in the basket, eh? Automatic Alex has 14 goals in 18 games. Who was the last Cap to do that? Don't tell me Jagr. Jagr might be great now in New York, but he was a mutt here. (Jagr told the New York Times he struggled here because he broke up with his beauty queen girlfriend. Yeah, it's a hard-knock life.)
The Pittsburgh kid -- what's his name, Bing Crosby? -- already has 15 assists in 20 games to go with nine goals. He's obviously a great playmaker, but I'm taking the thunder. To me Alexander Ovechkin sounds like the hero of a Russian novel about the siege of Stalingrad. As some of you know I have pledged myself to the Capitals this year, mainly because nobody else in town seems to care enough to go to their games -- sometimes there are so few people you can sit in Section 113 and have a conversation with a guy in Section 117 without raising your voice. And now I'm pledging myself to Ovechkin, too. He's My Man! I suppose it feels something like when Dolce met Gabbana. (Not that I have actually met Ovechkin, of course, or that I could pick him out of a lineup with the Hilton sisters.) And I eagerly await all of Washington catching up with me and exclaiming loudly, "I'm Kvetchin' Over Ovechkin!"