Johan Franzen should wear a sign that reads, "Don't get me started." He is the fastest way to trouble if you're the opposing playoff team, worse than a wrong turn into a bad neighborhood, as tough to avoid as a freight train on a greased track. Your best bet is to treat him like a hibernating bear: step quietly and try not to wake him up.

Even that may not help. Because Franzen has the same internal clock as those furry forest beasts. Springtime comes, he yawns, scratches his red hair, stretches that beefy 6-foot-3 frame and says, "Me hungry."

And look out!

On Wednesday night, Franzen, who'd had a sleepy hockey winter, continued his off-the-charts spring trend of averaging nearly a point in every NHL playoff game of his career. In the second period, he took the puck after a Phoenix turnover and wristed a screaming shot so precise it could have knocked the meat out of a sandwich.

It found the upper corner of the net, behind a helpless Ilya Bryzgalov, and the Red Wings had a lead they never relinquished in this playoff opener.