Watching the Nashville Predators take on the Seattle Kraken is the sports equivalent of choosing which flavor of lukewarm tap water you prefer. It is a clash of franchises that exist primarily to justify the existence of regional cable contracts and overpriced arena nachos. Nashville has long perfected the art of being just interesting enough to make the playoffs, only to exit with the grace of a tourist trying to navigate Broadway after four whiskeys.

Meanwhile, Seattle seems to have built an entire team based on the premise that if you give people a cool logo, they will ignore the fact that the actual hockey is roughly as consistent as a toddler’s nap schedule. Key details of this thrilling mediocrity: - Location: The Preds call Music City home, which provides a nice distraction from their power play woes. - Personnel: Both rosters are filled with guys who look exactly like every other guy who has ever played bottom-six minutes for a team struggling to find an identity.

- Historical Stakes: Absolutely none, unless you count the desperate thirst of city council members looking to keep tax revenue flowing into downtown districts. The real loser in this matchup is the casual viewer who stumbled upon the game while searching for literally anything else on the remote. Between the relentless organ music in Tennessee and the manufactured hype of the Kraken’s sea-shanty entrance, your ears are going to stage a protest long before the third period hits.

We are meant to believe these teams are building something special, but the reality is much more mundane. They are just two groups of tired men skating in circles, hoping the overtime point saves them from a particularly brutal film session on Monday morning. Does anyone actually believe these squads have a legitimate shot at the Cup, or are we all just waiting for the expansion draft drama to provide some actual entertainment?