What the Rangers can learn from Game 3 of the Stanley Cup Final

The Florida Panthers didn’t just beat the Edmonton Oilers—they broke them. In a game that racked up 140 penalty minutes, 27 penalties, 17 power plays, 59 hits, and 62 shots, Florida came out with a dominant 6-1 win on Monday Night at Amerant Bank Arena in Sunrise and a 2-1 lead in the Stanley Cup Final.

Just 56 seconds in, Anton Lundell powered down the slot off a setup from Eetu Luostarinen, crashing into the blue paint. Amid the net front chaos, the puck squirted free to Brad Marchand—the same guy who ended Game 2 in double OT—and the Rat King showed his patience. He held, waited for Stuart Skinner to lose his crease, then ripped it to the top corner. The building exploded, the goal horn didn't. No, literally—it was broken. A bizarre moment in an otherwise electric period. Florida nearly doubled the lead minutes later off a neutral-zone turnover by Edmonton, as Carter Verhaeghe redirected a slick Gustav Forsling pass right on goal, but Skinner made a huge stop to keep it 1-0.

The Oilers had their chances, as their first power play looked dangerous—McDavid in the slot, Adam Henrique on the doorstep, and even a bullet that clanged off Bobrovsky's mask—but Bob stood tall. Edmonton generated five shots on that man advantage, including a redirection from Henrique off a John Klingberg feed, but couldn't solve the Cats' netminder. Florida's first power play didn't yield a marker either, but Matthew Tkachuk's cross-seam look to Sam Reinhart showed how they're trying to exploit Skinner's tendency to bite on outside shots, setting up backdoor lanes. The opportunity was there, but the execution wasn't. With 2:46 to go, Viktor Arvidsson went to the box for goaltender interference, crashing into Bobrovsky. From the Panthers bench, Marchand barked toward the Oilers: "Use your head!" Seconds later, Florida made them pay.

Head Coach Paul Maurice deployed the second man-advantage unit—and it clicked. Bennett fed Nate Schmidt at the point, who dished to Evan Rodrigues on the wall. Rodrigues threaded a royal road pass across to Carter Verhaeghe, who caught it in stride, loaded his weight on the right skate, and with a quick flick of the wrist, went short side, bar-down off the crossbar and post.

The Panthers headed to the first intermission up 2-0, and Bobrovsky already looked locked in. Edmonton had the edge in puck control and offensive zone time, but Florida had the edge in execution, poise, and finishing.

Anton Lundell got tagged for roughing Bouchard, and Edmonton opened the second on the power play. With Ryan-Nugent-Hopkins mysteriously taken off PP1, the Oilers decided to go whole "shoot first, ask later" — and it worked. Bouchard, who had nine shots on the night, let one rip, Bobrovsky kicked it out, and who else but Perry cleaned it up in the crease. Just like that, it was 2–1, only 100 seconds in.

The Panthers answered back in a flash. Verhaeghe hounded Klingberg behind the net like a dog on a bone, forced a turnover, and fed Reinhart, who somehow — off-balance — roofed it short-side under the bar on Skinner, 3–1. The goal horn returned. (Edmonton probably wished it wasn't.) Just for good measure, Sam Bennett scored his 14 goals this postseason, and this one was filthy. It started with two punishing hits — Podkolzin and the struggling Klingberg got flattened —and Lusto pounced and turned on the jets. He and Bennett took off like they were stealing something. Lusto hit Bennett in stride, who showed a five-hole, pulled it to his forehand, and roofed his playoff-leading 14th marker with his strong side, 4–1 Panthers.

The Oilers' bench was stunned. Here's something subtle but telling: watch where the refs. Always outside the dot lanes, hugging the boards. Florida knows this. They were forechecking demons, and they ate along those walls, turning pucks over and dictating the pace. Edmonton couldn't escape the neutral zone if their lives depended on it. The Cats had a fortress set up across center ice. If the Rangers want to model themselves after the Panthers, they need to find their versions of Aleksander Barkov, Tkachuk, and Reinhart. That's three elite, two-way studs who tilt the ice and show up when it matters. The Blueshirts have none of those guys. Throwing a bunch of grit on the third line doesn't make you Florida magically, and there's more than one way to build a Cup contender — plenty of styles win. Still, the cats have shown everyone the blueprint. It starts with high-end, 200-foot players. Anything short of that, and you're just dressing up a copycat plan with no teeth.

The Oilers started the third on the power play and came up empty. Aaron Ekblad buried a power-play dagger that made it 5-1, and Skinner was yanked for Calvin Pickard. Then came the meltdown. With over nine minutes left, four Oilers—Darnell Nurse, Evander Kane, Mattias Ekholm, and Trent Frederic—were sent off with game misconduct after the whole thing turned into a backyard brawl. It was chaos. "Country Roads" blared through the arena, and Evan Rodrigues capped off the night with Florida's third power-play goal to seal the 6-1 party.

Through three games, Bob who made 32 saves, has stopped 116 pucks—the second-most in a Cup Final to this point in NHL history. The truth about Florida: this is how they win. They don't just beat you—they bait you. They get under your skin, drag you into the mud, and thrive while you spiral. That's their game. If you try to fight fire with fire, they'll burn you every time. Edmonton has to stop reacting. You can't beat Florida by playing Florida hockey. The only way to win is to play your game and ignore the noise. Yet when Florida gets rolling, it's a spectacle. Watching grown men lose their minds on the biggest stage, in front of millions. It's wild theater. Game 4's up next, and if the Oilers want to stay alive, they better bring their best—and leave the drama behind.