The Montreal Canadiens, who are pretty sure they invented the game and don't mind reminding you of that, and the Philadelphia Flyers, who are still pursuing that long and winding quest to recapture their glory days, are about to resume their playoff hostilities.

But first, through the digital magic of however it is they do this, the Flyers present, from the archives, their talisman for all these years, Kate Smith. She performs a duet with the current resident good luck charm, Lauren Hart, who has, as they say in the business, a great set of pipes. The two do "God Bless America" so sweet and pure that, as always, it raises the hackles on the nape of your neck.

And that, folks, is quite enough with the civility, for this is hockey, after all, and we've already wastefully let three minutes go by without thumping someone.

It was anticipated that the first glove dropping would be, oh, say, three seconds after the puck dropped, because the two teams, in just two games, had managed to say snippy things about each other and set the blood to boiling. And yet the game is almost 18 minutes in before the first flare goes off. The Flyers' Steve Downie swoops in on Montreal goalie Carey Price, who has strayed from the crease and is all alone in the open, a deer halfway across the interstate.

Goalies are not fair game, no matter how far they roam. But Downie cannot resist. He aims for the goalie's legs and, using his stick like an oversized spatula, he flips Price. The Canadiens take outraged exception, and the Flyers must retaliate, of course, so soon the ice is littered with gloves and sticks, and unkind things are being said about ancestry. The population of the penalty box goes up by four.

The first period ends with no score, because Price has been a bit shaky but still undented, and because the Flyers' Marty Biron has been impregnable. He sprawls, he smothers, he snatches bullets with his glove hand. The Canadiens have that fuzzy, puzzled look that asks: "How'd he stop that one?"

The Flyers finally score in the second period when Scottie Upshall, who has stayed on the ice beyond his shift in order to get in one more rush, steams in on Price, has the time to tee up the puck, and fires something that trails blue flame. Price never sees it, and the netting behind him billows. Upshall's risk to stay for one more rush is richly rewarded.

Price seems flummoxed, and his bewilderment only intensifies moments later when Mike Richards curls across the middle and, through a screen, rips a cannon shot that ricochets off Price's glove, then off a post and into the net. That sort of stuff - off the post, off the other post, off the Zamboni, off Billy Penn's hat - happens a lot, you may have noticed.

Now the Flyers have a 2-0 lead, but this is not the cause for raucous celebration you might think. Because during these playoffs, the Flyers have treated a two-goal lead like something on the bottom of their shoe . . . er, skates.

Ah, but not tonight. No, 2-0 quickly, briskly, becomes 3-0 when R.J. Umberger fires home a rebound that leaves Price sprawled facedown in frustration. In a 13-minute span, the Flyers have scored three times. More impressive, they have scored twice in the last five minutes of the second period.

Now it is most definitely the Flyers' game to lose. Having already eliminated one team that was seeded higher than them (Washington) they are positioned to seize a two-games-to-one lead over another team rated above them.

All that is required over the next 20 minutes is to keep the heat off Biron and defend fiercely. Easy enough to say, but the opponent is prideful and resolute.

That task becomes that much more difficult when defenseman Derian Hatcher collects a costly, and considering the circumstances, utterly thoughtless, five-minute boarding penalty, plus a game misconduct. Sure enough, the Canadiens cash in on that power play, poking around in front of Biron like clam diggers, finally nudging the puck in.

And mere moments later, the price on Hatcher's penalty doubles - another Montreal power-play goal. More than half of the third period is yet to be played and what had been a romp has become a noose-tightener.

It gets even tighter when the Flyers present yet another gift to the Canadiens, another power play at the worst possible moment, this one against defenseman Lasse Kukkonen. But they manage to kill that one, and Biron is heroic in the turning away.

The Flyers get their own break - Montreal, so desperate and so anxious to mount a final charge, is caught with too many men on the ice. Power play, Flyers. Ah, but they cannot convert the advantage. Of course not. Why would they want to take the comfortable way out when they are flourishing in adversity?

The game ends with the puck on a Montreal player's stick, the last shot unfired. So, that thread the Flyers were hanging by didn't unravel after all.

Right about now, an exhale is highly recommended.