There's a statistic the Habs are up against right now that carries with it the thought that the harder you work to defeat your enemy, the more your resolve is weakened to defeat your next foe.

That telling statistic is this: No team in NHL history has won two series in the maximum seven games and then gone on to win the next round. The reasons are many for this stat to not be one of those throwaway coincidences, but a telling revelation on the gruelling nature of the playoffs.

A player has expended so much physical energy throughout 14 games often in only 30 nights that he simply cannot find a part of his body to rely on that has not been taxed by every hit, every battle in the corner, every crash into the post, every shot blocked in the leg, and every hack on the arm.

Emotional toll

The battle fatigue though is not just physical. The two month Cup war takes an emotional toll as well -- a summoning of spiritual strength to carry on fighting when others would have abandoned this salary-free journey long before.

Also consider for a moment the extra emotional toll of this particular Hab war. Not just two seven-game series, but a sleepless night on five different occasions knowing that a loss the following day was the end of a dream. Five times the Habs summoned the will to survive, but to keep fighting to the finals they'll now have to go 8 and 0 when facing elimination. An unheard of number in sports.

Band of brothers

These Habs have shown you some remarkable fortitude in these playoffs. They've banded together like brothers to support each other in the deepest trenches on the darkest nights, but the physical and emotional toll of their efforts carries with it the history of each battle before.

The third round becomes such a heavy burden, carrying with it the scars of previous warfare that your own worst enemy becomes your weakened selves.

The battles that were effectively won, opened up vulnerabilities - fissures of weakness along the walls of resolve.

Flyers expose weakness

And expose the weakness the Flyers have done, executing a plan to near perfection leaving the Habs weary. A neutral zone plan costing the Habs their greatest weapon - their speed. A defensive zone plan so impenetrable that once again the 'Leighton great save' page in my notes had in it, in Game 4, only a Plekanec chance in the first period; a single hopeless shot in the second; and a fall back to cover scramble in the third. It was a defensive performance so significant that it didn't feel at all like anything before it against the Caps or Pens. In those series, even at their lowest and most lopsided in territorial play, there were always counterattack chances the Habs had to draw strength from. Where now do they draw strength from, when the 0 on the board for a record third time is a 48 hour haunting gnaw before Game 5?

Leighton's report card

And please don't read my empty 'Leighton is great' note page at this point as a critique of his skills. It is not that at all. I have no proof either way yet. The book must remain unwritten whether Leighton has the mettle to answer the ultimate challenge against a much more powerful, one presumes, Hawks team with weapons throughout the roster. The Hawks will be a much more difficult challenge that the Flyers have not faced in these playoffs. Strangely, one could not have said that of the Habs who have seen the face of the Hawks already in the two powerhouse foes they vanquished. Leighton's report card has in it an assessment of an obviously strong mental disposition -- for if he were a quitter, then he would have years ago. But he remains physically untested by the game's best shooters on a consistent basis.

Flyers deserve credit

The Flyers have earned their position in this series not with Leighton, but with the 19 guys who protect the fortress he guards. To not acknowledge a nearly complete domination in this series by the Flyers is to be wearing blinders at this point. Leighton has three shutouts already in the series equalling a shutout mark set by 13 other goalies in a series -- the last Giguere for the Ducks when he captured the Conn Smythe in defeat. Three shutouts where he stopped maybe five quality chances in total.

These Flyers have found every way to keep the Habs to the outside where they've been firing lobs from bad angles, chasing pucks on dump-ins that they can not effectively retrieve, and surprisingly beating the Habs at their own game with blocked shots and a committed defence first philosophy.

Credit goes to Peter Laviolette who has won a Cup already and who clearly knows how to get the most out of his men both physically and emotionally.

The Flyers too have their Cinderella comeback story, but that slipper seems to be fitting more comfortably with each passing game. With the injured returning, feeling fresh without the scars of games past, they seem to be finding a new resolve, new weapons in the arsenal that give strength to those who might be otherwise too weakened to continue along the path. The new players returning are energizing the battle-weary like a blood transfusion gives oxygen to the wounded in war.

Habs need renewed strength

The Habs only strength they can draw from in this dark hour is that they have been here before. However, in their hearts, only they can answer if this feels like before when they pulled off the improbable, or does this finally feel like a bridge too far?

If this road to the Stanley Cup is a war, the Habs are now in the deepest of trenches. It has been raining constantly for a month. The armour is weakened by the elements. The sustenance to re-energize is in short supply. The ammunition is running low. And the little voice is speaking louder saying that everyone is already proud of you for your overachievement. It is okay to just stay in the foxhole now and face the inevitable. No shame would be thrust upon you after you slayed two Goliaths already. The little voice of reason and fatigue is now welcoming you to go peacefully into that good night.

Perhaps, maybe, once more, you can answer no to the voice and find another ounce of strength.

The mystique of the Cup

That feeling each winner speaks of, of using up that last ounce is why this Cup carries with it such mystique. It is why one never lifts that grail overhead or even dares touch it until the honour is earned. Through ages, each man who fights the good fight tells stories of great sacrifice, of pain endured, and an ability to pick oneself up when all seems lost.

The Cup has this mystique because of stories like the 1983 Oilers share, of passing the Islanders open locker room after losing the finals to that legendary team and expecting to see wild celebrations from Bossy, Trottier, Potvin and the rest. Instead, Wayne Gretzky, Kevin Lowe, and Mark Messier passed on for a new generation to hear that what they saw was this remarkable scene: the Isles to a man sat there almost solemn with ice packs on their entire bodies, a cold beer in hand, and exhaustion on their faces. They were a beaten down, beaten up lot without the energy to even stand in the hour after seemingly winning the finals with ease. Gretzky, Lowe and Messier noted how they themselves felt fresh, and with much more energy to spare, for more games that would not be played. They vowed looking at the exhausted Isles that they had seen and learned in that moment what it takes to win the Cup. That they would not have an ounce of energy left when they finally earned their stripes. That they would be the ones exhausted with ice packs on and wounds festering, and bruises changing hue. That in their exhaustion would they be imagining their fitting for a ring, and that beer passing through parched lips would be the most satisfying that they could ever drink. They finally saw what victory looked like and proceeded to win five Cups in seven years.

The Habs right now are like those Islanders. They are spent from the battles already won. The ultimate prize is far from theirs, but the battle has been admirably fought. The ice packs have been earned.

The Flyers seem to have miles still to go before they sleep and with the leadership they have in guys like Pronger who has already travelled this road and won, and Richards as a captain who has a never-give-up attitude on every shift, they may just be that Isles team that beat the superior in talent Oilers in '83. They may just be able to look at the young Hawks and see in them an opponent that may not yet understand the sacrifice needed like the young Oilers of yesteryear who made the same mistake of thinking talent alone wins Cups.

What leads to Cup success?

Peter Laviolette said the other day the most important thing to Cup success wasn't momentum like the questioner surmised, but desperation. Perhaps it is desperation the Flyers will understand more than the young Hawks who will imagine the prize will naturally be close at hand in many seasons to come, and who in the moment will not have faced the challenge of adversity, and who may find they don't care for its pain.

First thing's first though: let the two leaders in such comfortable positions finish the task at hand. They both seem so ready to do so, but these are brave men they're facing, men who were already expected to die who would not before accept that as their fate.

Perhaps there is more fight left in the wounded and bloodied. This is sport after all where nothing ever is guaranteed.

It is said for good reason the fourth win is always the hardest. For in these greatest of all sporting playoffs, hockey is a game where desperation and willpower influence the outcome more than any other sport. If a man is breathing, then he is still fighting.

Monday night, the Habs will draw breath. They have earned the right to by shocking two great foes, to stand here and fight, to draw life.

Breathe. Fight. Live.