Florida skated circles around Tampa and sent them packing with sunscreen and regret.
The Lightning showed up hoping to spark a comeback. The Panthers showed up with a fire hose and a bucket of goals.
Game 5 was less of a playoff thriller and more of a Panthers power play mixtape. Florida came in like they were late for a beach party and had no interest in overtime drama. Six goals, each one more savage than the last, rained down like Floridian afternoon thunderstorms.
Sergei Bobrovsky was once again the goalie equivalent of a brick wall with attitude. Tampa fired shots, and Bob just stared them down like, “Really? That’s all you’ve got?”
Matthew Tkachuk played like someone had insulted his playlist. He was everywhere—chirping, scoring, and basically living rent-free in the Lightning’s defensive zone. Verhaeghe and Reinhart joined the chaos like it was a team barbecue and everyone brought fireworks.
Tampa got a few goals, sure, but it felt more like late-night infomercial bonuses: “But wait, we’ll throw in one pity goal absolutely free!”
The Lightning looked gassed, frustrated, and deeply aware that the only cup they’re lifting this year is full of sad Gatorade. The handshake line was probably the quietest Tampa has been all series.
And with that, Florida advances. They didn’t just beat the Lightning—they tamed the storm and turned the Bolts into sparks.
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