Pyatt and Pouliot sign

Tom Pyatt (left) celebrates Game 3, third-round playoff goal with Maxim Lapierre.
Shaun Best, Reuters

The Canadiens signed Benoit Pouliot and Tom Pyatt to one-year contracts today.

Pouliot was acquired in the deal that sent Guillaume Latendresse to Minnesota, where he scored 27 goals. Pouliot’s totals were more modest: 17 goals (none after March 25), 11 assists. And as the Canadiens progressed through the postseason, Pouliot – drafted one spot ahead of Carey Price in 2005 – became something of an afterthought.

Pyatt was acqured in the seven-player trade with the New York Rangers that brought Scott Gomez to Montreal last June. Pyatt was a strong two-way player in the playoffs and was especially valuable on the penalty kill.

RDS is reporting Pouliot signed for $1.35 million and Pyatt for $500,000. Each earned about $800,000 last season.

The cap-stressed Canadiens are unlikely to be active on July 1, so there won’t be much in the way of Sundinian speculation this week.

Glen Metropolit, Marc-André Bergeron and Dominic Moore become UFAs on Thursday.

There is the remote possibility Carey Price will receive an offer sheet.

If Gauthier were to make trades, he probably would have made them at the draft in Los Angeles.

But you never know. Habs Inside/Out will keep an ear to the ground, and the Commentariat may feel free to tell the GM how to do his job.

 

 

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For your entertainment (and as a guide for rationaly assessing
future playoff exits) check what the Guardian’s Fiver wrote about
England’s humiliating loss to Germany:

The staggering ineptness
of England’s performance against Germany left no room for doubt. It’s
over. At long, long last the Great Delusion is over.

How
could it survive that? Seventy-odd minutes of being comprehensively
outplayed and four hammerblows to the English psyche, blows that will
panel-beat the expectations of those who saw the exhibition match at the
Free State Stadium from a towering, tottering totem of bronze into
something much more modest. An ornate watering can, perhaps? Or a
delightful little milk pan? Something neat and manageable, at least,
giving occasional pleasure, but mainly functional and unexciting. One
thing is certain: there was nothing to prevent even the most
tubthumping, St George waving, Three Lions-yawping serial denier coming
round to the inner-peace-providing conclusion that England lost to the
better team.

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