The York Guardian

I can't remember ever seeing a first round with as much jam-packed excitement across the board.

Both the Boston/Montreal and Washington/Philadelphia series were fast-paced, non-stop, end-to-end entertainment.

The Dallas/Anaheim and Calgary/San Jose battles were the kind of rock 'em sock 'em affairs that would bring tears to the eyes of Don Cherry.

Nashville surprisingly gave Detroit all it could handle and then some.

Colorado and Minnesota fought tooth and nail right down to the wire.

Pain in the you-know-what Sean Avery of the Rangers made sure there was never a dull moment - on or off the ice - in the New York/New Jersey match-up. Heck, even the Pittsburgh/Ottawa series, which was decidedly lopsided, was a delight to behold. Watching the Penguins' Sidney Crosby and Evgeni Malkin dominate play, though barely out of their teens, evoked memories of Wayne Gretzky and Mario Lemieux in their early years.

If their performances didn't send chills up and down your spine, I think it's time to go visit the Wizard of Oz and see if he can outfit you with a new heart.

Yeah, it's all been great, except for one thing.

I have to admit with games going every night, and on the weekends, day and night, I've overdosed on the national anthems. One day last week there were five, count 'em, five games going on one evening. That's a lot of anthems, folks.

I've never understood why they play anthems before sports events in the first place. I've never gotten the connection. Particularly before hockey games.

Think about it.

Players and fans all stand at attention. Hands over their hearts. Eyes fixed resolutely on the flag. Humming or singing along reverently.

And then no sooner does the song end, bam, some poor guy gets cross-checked in the kisser with a Bauer Supreme and spits out three molars and a bicuspid to be named later.

At major boxing title fights in Las Vegas promoters used to invite the legendary Ray Charles to deliver a tear-jerking version of "America the Beautiful". You had a lump in your throat from start to finish and then faster than Ray could say "Baby what I say", a guy from Panama would deliver a flurry of haymakers and put a lump in the throat of a guy from Venezuela.

But the oddest juxtaposition of all took place before Flyers home games in Philadelphia at the fabled Spectrum.

The venerable Kate Smith used to lead the entire crowd in a heart-warming rendition of "God Bless America" and then before Kate sat down - and anywhere she wanted to, I might add - a player hailing from Flin Flon would try and assassinate a player from Moose Jaw.

Does that make any sense to you?

Nope, I don't think we should be singing any anthems before a couple of hockey players are gonna get in each other's faces, especially at playoff time.

It ought to be something more appropriate, oh, say, such as Paul McCartney's "Live and Let Die."

And now if you'll excuse me, it's back to the couch for round two.

"When you were young and your heart was an open book, you used to say live and let live ..."