My little sister, who is 12, wrote an essay for school about Lord Stanley and the Stanley Cup. How awesome is that? I've clearly taught her well. When she was little, I used to quiz her on the names/numbers of Wings. She had most of the roster memorized back in the day. Anyway, here's the essay she turned in to her 7th grade class. I'm so proud. Maybe she's a Wings blogger in the making:
"Do you know what the great hockey trophy is?" Joey asked his class.
"Is it the Davis Cup?" Molly asked.
"No," Joey answered.
"The Temple Cup?" shouted Matt
"World Cup?" answered Sarah
"Vince Lombardi Trophy?" questioned Jeff
"No, no and no" Joey answered.
"It's the Stanley Cup!" Joey exclaimed. "The Stanley Cup, which has been abandoned, stolen, and even used as a toilet, but still loved and kissed, was made by the Great Frederick Authur Stanley."
Frederick Arthur Stanley, also known as Lord Stanley, was born on January 15, 1841 in London, England. He was a political and sporty man, who loved fishing, he was the 16th Earl of Derby, Lord Mayor of Liverpool, and the First Chancellor of the University of Liverpool. Frederick went to Eton College, Eton, England for High School and Royal Military Academy Sandhurst for a university. Secondly, Lord Stanley served in the British Army from 1858-1865, and he was in the British Parliament. Thirdly, Frederick was also in the Secretary of State. Lastly, he was of English origin and Anglican and Episcopalian background.
Lord Stanley came from a large family, and he had many children. Firstly, his parents were Edward George Geoffrey Stanley and Emma Caroline Bootle-Wibraham Smith, and Frederick was born into one of the richest families. He married a English woman and had ten kids. Two of the kids were girls while the rest boys, the first, a girl, named Katherine Mary died at infancy. The other girl, the ninth kid, Lady Isobel Constance Mary Stanley Gathorne-Hardy, loved hockey and was one of Canada's first woman hockey players. Some of the brothers formed hockey teams to play against each other at public rinks. All of the Stanley's loved hockey, and none of them ever even saw a playoff game for the cup. The family moved back to England for Frederick's brother, Edward Henry's death.
The most recognizable trophy to ever be made, The Stanley Cup, was made for Lord Stanley's kids' teams to compete for. Firstly, the Stanley Cup was not originally named The Stanley Cup, its first name was the Dominion Hockey Challenge Cup. To elaborate, the new name was given when Lord Stanley passed away in 1908. Secondly, The cup was inducted into the Hockey Hall of Fame in 1945, and is known as Hockey's Holy Grail. Thirdly, the cup is also the oldest trophy, its 7 years ahead of the Paris Cup (tennis), and 1 year ahead of the Temple Cup (baseball). Lastly, the cup does not get bigger anymore, every 13 years a new ring is added and an old one is taken off. To this day, The Stanley Cup has 2,000 and more names on it, and every year new names are added.
The history of the cup and its maker is very exciting, and includes many adventures and trips. When he bought the cup was worth 10 Guineas, which present day would be 50 dollars. The cup was donated in 1892 and has been played for ever since. Secondly, the first team to ever win the cup was the Montreal Amateur Athletic Association, and it has been competed for for 116 years. Also, it has the largest sports traditions, like adventures, including: swimming, baptisms, wine glasses, and evenused as a popcorn bowl. Lastly, when bands are removed they are sent to Lord Stanley's Vault in Vancouver.
Lord Stanley made one of the most famous trophies to ever live, he will be remembered Poor Lord Stanley died of an illness, but he will always be in memory of the trophy. He passed away in Holwood, Kent, England; spending his last years in Liverpool. He was buried in Knowley, Lancashire, England, but has many memorials in Canada. For example, there are Lord Stanley Suites, located in Vancouver in memory. Another example is Stanley Park, which is located next to Lord Stanley Suites, in Vancouver. Also, in Stanley Park there is a huge monument honouring him, with his achievements.
The Stanley Cup is remembered every year by the Play offs that take place in the late spring. Lord Stanley is important to ever hockey player, amateurs, kids, college students, and especially the pros. Even though many things have happened to the cup it is still the most recognizable trophy today, and the creator isn't even given that much respect and credit.
Showing posts with label Stanley Cup. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Stanley Cup. Show all posts
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Monday, November 9, 2009
It's Time to Celebrate the Stevie...
(No snark today. This post is all heart.)
Well, this day has been inevitable for quite some time now. Tonight the greatest Captain in all of sports officially takes his place amongst the hockey royalty in the Hall of Fame. The three years since his retirement have really just been a countdown to today.
I can’t believe it’s been three years since he hung up his skates for good. There’s still a little part of me that expects to see him out there taking a key defensive zone faceoff late in a game. Can you honestly say that you don’t briefly see Yzerman every time a Wing uses his stick to prop himself up as he gets to his feet? Or whenever you catch a glimpse of the C on Nick Lidstrom’s sweater? I was born in 1986 not long before the NHL season started that year. When Stevie retired, I had literally never seen another player wear the C for the Wings. I honestly worried that I wouldn’t feel the same about the game after he retired. My hockey fandom was incredibly tied up in my love for the Captain, and on top of that, I was living in Florida at the time, completely cut off from the hockey world (my access to games was limited and I pretty much cut myself off from it in order to stay sane.). I wondered if I would feel the same way I had before when I came back to Michigan. Obviously, it wasn’t an issue since I’m here writing this blog. But that’s how much Steve Yzerman meant to me as a fan of this hockey team. In my mind, he wasn’t just The Captain, he was the Red Wings.
When I first got into the game, I was drawn to the speed and flashy moves of Sergei Fedorov. I quickly came to realize, though, that Steve Yzerman was more my style. His public approach to the game was very similar to the way I approach my life. And I don’t think I’m alone. He’s the kind of guy we can identify with here in Detroit. We aren’t flashy. We don’t seek the spotlight. We’ve had our share of disappointments and setbacks, but we haven’t given up. We may never be the biggest city or the most respected or the richest or a popular destination, but that’s not going to stop us from trying. And here we are hobbling along with the auto industry barely staying afloat and hearing about a friend or neighbor or family member who lost their job on a daily basis, surviving by determination and heart alone. So it’s no wonder this area fell head over heels for Steve Yzerman.
I can’t think of another leader whose personality came to embody a team in the way that The Captain’s did. This is even more amazing because of how understated Stevie’s public persona was. Even with the veritable all-star team that the Wings fielded in ’02, there was never any question that he was the guy. And that year, when expectations were higher than ever, he led the way. On one leg.
As the latest round of career eulogies goes out to mark this occasion, there is a lot of focus on the ’02 Cup run as the epitome of Stevie’s career. It surely was a highlight, but in my mind there are other ways to define him. I think of him being the guy sent in to win an important faceoff late in a game. I think of sitting on my family room couch as my Dad, just a few months old when the team won the 1955 Cup, tried to hide his tears as The Captain hoisted Stanley for the first time in ’97. I think of him coming back from a ridiculous knee surgery because he still had something left in the tank. I think of standing in the lower bowl of Joe Louis Arena in my bright red #19 jersey clapping until my hands were red the night he scored his 600th goal. I think of the way a picture of him hoisting the Cup can still bring grown men in this city to tears. I think of seeing him play an exhibition game at Yost during the lockout and sticking around to sign autographs for all of the junior players and some of the NHLers too. I think of sitting in the upper bowl in December of 2005, knowing that I was moving to Florida and that he would probably be retiring soon, watching every shift he took and wondering if it would be the last time I saw him set foot on the ice in person. I think of standing on a concrete barrier, craning my neck to catch a glimpse of him during the ’02 parade. I think about trying to explain to my roommate why I felt the need to watch the replay of his jersey retirement ceremony that they showed last month even though I had a mountain of homework, and only being able to point to my misty eyes because I couldn't find words. I think of the way he almost shies away from all of the praise and attention that continues to come his way. I think of the love that transcends the traditional fan/player relationship that the people in Detroit have for him.
Steve Yzerman is and always will be my favorite player of all time. And I couldn’t be happier to see him entering the Hall of Fame tonight. I was lucky to grow up watching Stevie here in Hockeytown, and his is the standard by which I will measure every other player who dons the Winged Wheel. The odds of anyone living up to them are pretty slim.
Well, this day has been inevitable for quite some time now. Tonight the greatest Captain in all of sports officially takes his place amongst the hockey royalty in the Hall of Fame. The three years since his retirement have really just been a countdown to today.
I can’t believe it’s been three years since he hung up his skates for good. There’s still a little part of me that expects to see him out there taking a key defensive zone faceoff late in a game. Can you honestly say that you don’t briefly see Yzerman every time a Wing uses his stick to prop himself up as he gets to his feet? Or whenever you catch a glimpse of the C on Nick Lidstrom’s sweater? I was born in 1986 not long before the NHL season started that year. When Stevie retired, I had literally never seen another player wear the C for the Wings. I honestly worried that I wouldn’t feel the same about the game after he retired. My hockey fandom was incredibly tied up in my love for the Captain, and on top of that, I was living in Florida at the time, completely cut off from the hockey world (my access to games was limited and I pretty much cut myself off from it in order to stay sane.). I wondered if I would feel the same way I had before when I came back to Michigan. Obviously, it wasn’t an issue since I’m here writing this blog. But that’s how much Steve Yzerman meant to me as a fan of this hockey team. In my mind, he wasn’t just The Captain, he was the Red Wings.
When I first got into the game, I was drawn to the speed and flashy moves of Sergei Fedorov. I quickly came to realize, though, that Steve Yzerman was more my style. His public approach to the game was very similar to the way I approach my life. And I don’t think I’m alone. He’s the kind of guy we can identify with here in Detroit. We aren’t flashy. We don’t seek the spotlight. We’ve had our share of disappointments and setbacks, but we haven’t given up. We may never be the biggest city or the most respected or the richest or a popular destination, but that’s not going to stop us from trying. And here we are hobbling along with the auto industry barely staying afloat and hearing about a friend or neighbor or family member who lost their job on a daily basis, surviving by determination and heart alone. So it’s no wonder this area fell head over heels for Steve Yzerman.
I can’t think of another leader whose personality came to embody a team in the way that The Captain’s did. This is even more amazing because of how understated Stevie’s public persona was. Even with the veritable all-star team that the Wings fielded in ’02, there was never any question that he was the guy. And that year, when expectations were higher than ever, he led the way. On one leg.
As the latest round of career eulogies goes out to mark this occasion, there is a lot of focus on the ’02 Cup run as the epitome of Stevie’s career. It surely was a highlight, but in my mind there are other ways to define him. I think of him being the guy sent in to win an important faceoff late in a game. I think of sitting on my family room couch as my Dad, just a few months old when the team won the 1955 Cup, tried to hide his tears as The Captain hoisted Stanley for the first time in ’97. I think of him coming back from a ridiculous knee surgery because he still had something left in the tank. I think of standing in the lower bowl of Joe Louis Arena in my bright red #19 jersey clapping until my hands were red the night he scored his 600th goal. I think of the way a picture of him hoisting the Cup can still bring grown men in this city to tears. I think of seeing him play an exhibition game at Yost during the lockout and sticking around to sign autographs for all of the junior players and some of the NHLers too. I think of sitting in the upper bowl in December of 2005, knowing that I was moving to Florida and that he would probably be retiring soon, watching every shift he took and wondering if it would be the last time I saw him set foot on the ice in person. I think of standing on a concrete barrier, craning my neck to catch a glimpse of him during the ’02 parade. I think about trying to explain to my roommate why I felt the need to watch the replay of his jersey retirement ceremony that they showed last month even though I had a mountain of homework, and only being able to point to my misty eyes because I couldn't find words. I think of the way he almost shies away from all of the praise and attention that continues to come his way. I think of the love that transcends the traditional fan/player relationship that the people in Detroit have for him.
Steve Yzerman is and always will be my favorite player of all time. And I couldn’t be happier to see him entering the Hall of Fame tonight. I was lucky to grow up watching Stevie here in Hockeytown, and his is the standard by which I will measure every other player who dons the Winged Wheel. The odds of anyone living up to them are pretty slim.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Random Things to Brighten Your Day...
Okay sunshines, I’m phoning this one in. I’ve already turned my focus to deciding what to eat for my birthday lunch in Mexicantown tomorrow, but I wanted to post these links. And yes, that decision may very well take me twelve hours. There are too many things that I love to pick just one.
First off, if you read nothing else today, read this post from Snapshots. It may not make you happy, but it’s guaranteed to make you feel better. Plus, the notion of the “all-reject free agent team” made me laugh.
Speaking of things that made me laugh, I recently discovered this gem from When Cameron Was in Egypt’s Land. I’m not sure how I missed it before, but I think I’m a little better for having read it now. I tried to think what my fantasy game would include, and I’m pretty sure it would play out just as Cameron envisioned. Highlights: In the first period,
Christy Hammond also posted her five reasons for loving hockey over at Winging it in Motown. This will improve your life as well. There isn't a single bad reason to like hockey, and I love that everyone has their own set of aspects of the game that drew them in.
And finally, the next time someone asks you to explain why Wings fans are the best in the world, just show them this video. We are Hockeytown.
First off, if you read nothing else today, read this post from Snapshots. It may not make you happy, but it’s guaranteed to make you feel better. Plus, the notion of the “all-reject free agent team” made me laugh.
Speaking of things that made me laugh, I recently discovered this gem from When Cameron Was in Egypt’s Land. I’m not sure how I missed it before, but I think I’m a little better for having read it now. I tried to think what my fantasy game would include, and I’m pretty sure it would play out just as Cameron envisioned. Highlights: In the first period,
“Then Roy tries to statue-of-liberty it and Yzerman slaps him as Shanahan pokes it in.”I think I snickered for five minutes when I read this. There isn’t a person in the world whose life wouldn’t be improved by seeing Steve Yzerman slap Patrick Roy. Not a single one, including Roy himself. In the third period,
“Scott Stevens and Pronger try to cheap shot Yzerman collectively, miss him on the boards, and tear their ACLs.”No fantasy game could be complete without a reenactment of one of my favorite moments of irony/karma. Finally,
“Zetterberg and Franzen put their beards together like the WonderTwins and form the Beard of Justice. It engulfs Jordin Tootoo and rids him of this world. The crowd goes crazy. Don't Stop Believin' starts playing and the PA cuts the volume for "Born in South Detroit." Game ends. Red Wings win 1919-0. Kenny Holland hands Yzerman the Cup, which has recently been re-engraved to award the Red Wings with every championship back to 1893.”And afterward,
“I'm picked to go down into the locker room and meet all the players. Yzerman invites me out to dinner. Datsyuk's cell phone rings. Shanahan holds the Cup for me as I drink cold Blue Moon from it. The players say what the hell and have the white-glove guy engrave my name on Lord Stanley too. Right next to Stevie's.”This kind of brilliance only comes around once in an off-season. So read it and enjoy, because if that fantasy doesn't bring joy to your life, you're probably not a real Wings fan.
Christy Hammond also posted her five reasons for loving hockey over at Winging it in Motown. This will improve your life as well. There isn't a single bad reason to like hockey, and I love that everyone has their own set of aspects of the game that drew them in.
And finally, the next time someone asks you to explain why Wings fans are the best in the world, just show them this video. We are Hockeytown.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Why I Love Hockey...
Inspired by Puck Daddy’s “5 Reasons I Love Hockey” series, I decided to spend the weekend writing my own list. Unfortunately, I was unable to stop at five. So I decided to write the ten biggest reasons for my undying love for the game. They’re not in any particular order because it was impossible to choose which meant more to me. So here you go.
I love hockey…
…Because every player gets his name engraved on the Stanley Cup.
I know it’s cliché to say that you like hockey because of the Stanley Cup. But there’s a reason so many people love that silver chalice. What trophy out there is cooler? The NBA trophy looks like abstract art, the Lombardi trophy looks like something you’d give out to the runners-up in a middle school football league, and the MLB trophy just looks like a really good way to put your eye out. Can you drink out of any of them? I didn’t think so. What other trophy has the names of all of the players engraved on it? It’s nice to see each one recognized on it because hockey players so rarely take credit for their individual efforts. As if the Cup itself wasn’t cool enough, the traditions surrounding it are awesome. Some of the stories about Stanley’s adventures are the stuff of legend. Face it kids, the Cup is just cool. I also think it’s the shiniest thing I’ve ever seen. And I’ve seen a lot of shiny things because I notice each and every one of them.
…Because Steve Yzerman is the greatest Captain to ever walk the face of the earth.
I loved Steve Yzerman every bit as much as I hated the Avalanche. While other girls my age grew up idolizing JTT and Leonardo DiCaprio, I had a different hero. I never had many idols growing up because I was always afraid that they would turn out to be a disappointment, but you always got the sense that Stevie Y would never let you down. When I was a kid I told my mom that if I ever got a terminal disease, I wanted her to tell Make A Wish that I wanted to meet The Captain in case I couldn’t talk anymore. Clearly, I was a pleasant child to be around. I was at the Joe the night he scored his 600th goal. Every person in the arena clapped and clapped for what seemed like forever. And Yzerman simply stood up near the end of the bench, raised his stick up in the air once, and sat back down and went to work. Because that’s what leaders do. As a Wings fan over the years, I’ve seen my share of (future) Hall of Famers come and go. Somehow, surrounded by all of that talent, Steve Yzerman always managed to stand out. Quite simply, he embodied everything that a captain should be. I don’t need to explain what he means to this team/city. It’s self-evident, and if you don’t understand now, you never will. Stevie’s character has left a legacy in the Wings locker room that still shows. And that class is one of the things that makes me so proud to be a Wings fan. There is very little that any player could ever do to surpass Steve Yzerman in my heart.
…Because mini sticks ruined my knees.
Remember when mini sticks were all the rage? I do. The fad swept through my elementary school shortly after I first got into hockey. No one would let me play at school because I was a girl, but at home, my brother and I would play for hours on end. We never got to play real hockey, so this is as close as we’d get to any real action. We both chose player nicknames that we would use when we were in the “rink.” His was “Fozzie Ozzie,” but for the life of me, I can’t remember what mine was. We agreed on very detailed rules and had an elaborate system for deciding who was right when goals were disputed. We had some epic battles over the years, and it’s a wonder that we never broke anything (furniture or bones). I fully believe that those countless hours spent jumping around my family room floor on my hands and knees is the reason why my knees are in such sorry shape at the ripe old age of twenty-two. It was worth it, though.
…Because Mickey Redmond likes to drink “ginger ale.”
My least favorite thing about the playoffs is the fact that as the Wings advance we no longer get to hear Mickey Redmond on the broadcast. He’s well-known around these parts for his catchphrases like, “Bingo Bango” and “Holy Mackerel,” but that’s not all he brings to the broadcast booth. Then there's his penchant for excessive use of the Telestrator. Aside from that, he’s as old-school as they come and he clearly loves a good “donnybrook” as much as the rest of us. And I love him for it. There are few things more entertaining than hearing him get all riled up about a call on the ice. You get the feeling at times that ol’Mick is fully prepared to head on down to the ice and drop the gloves with a ref or an opposing player to teach him a lesson about how real hockey is played. I keep waiting for him to regale us with the tale of how he used to have to walk to the rink, barefoot, carrying all of his hockey gear, uphill both ways. One of my favorite moments last season was when he and Ken Daniels interviewed Gary Bettman and Mick kept arguing with him while Daniels awkwardly searched for a way to reign him in. the fact that this moment hasn’t made it to YouTube is a fail of epic proportions. Plus, he sings…
…Because I still know all of the words to “I Want Stanley.”
Back in the day, the Wings used to have an official playoff anthem every year. They were cheesy and lame, but they were strangely endearing, especially to 9-year olds. A little part of me wishes they still made them, although I shudder at the thought of what they would’ve created for “The Beard is Back.” The best of the best was “I Want Stanley” from the ill-fated ’96 playoff run. To this day, I can’t listen to the original “I Want Candy” song without hearing the lyrics to the Wings’ edition in my head. My brother and I were obsessed with the Arena Version (Rap Version here). We had an intricate, choreographed interpretive dance routine that we would perform over and over. It involved crosschecks, running laps around our family room with pretend sticks, and an excessive amount of raising the roof. Really the only things that we were lacking were spirit fingers and a few jazz squares. We fought like cats and dogs for most of our childhood, but once we threw on that CD and lined up for the fake opening faceoff that began our routine, we were a team, working together in perfect harmony. At least for those few minutes.
…Because I like being quirky.
I like being an outsider. When it’s not irritating, it can be fun. As much as it annoys me sometimes, I like that hockey’s not “mainstream.” It’s one of the major aspects of my love/hate relationship with the game. Growing up in Michigan, I was lucky to be surrounded by a lot of hockey media coverage thanks to the popularity of the Wings. But travel out of state and you’ll be lucky to find so much as a game recap for the local team. I have to admit that a little part of me likes going on vacation and picking up a newspaper only to complain that they devoted an entire page in the sports section to high school lacrosse, but couldn’t even bother to print NHL box scores. Seriously though, it’s more fun to be on the fringe. It makes you feel edgy and unique. People find it strange and quirky when you say that you like hockey. It’s fun, even if it means that you sometimes have to call around to find a bar that carries Versus. And is willing to turn it on for you.
…Because Darren McCarty turned Claude Lemieux into a turtle on March 26, 1997.
How many regular season scores and game dates do you remember from twelve years ago? Probably not many. How many fights do you celebrate the anniversary of every year? I’m guessing not a whole lot. But when Darren McCarty exacted his revenge for Lemieux’s dirty hit, he heightened a rivalry that defined a large portion of my childhood. What other sport could that happen in? If he were a basketball player, he would’ve just had teammates pretend to hold him back while hoping that their grip didn’t slip and force him to actually fight. In baseball, he would’ve just thrown his batting helmet at Lemieux. I'm not sure what would've happened in an NFL game, but I'm willing to bet that it would've involved an obnoxious celebration afterward. I still have a framed picture of that fight hanging on my bedroom wall. And my hatred that began with Claude Lemieux quickly spread to the rest of the Avs. I can’t even tell you how much I hated them back in the day. Part of me still does, even though it’s not nearly as much fun now. I’m pretty sure that I’ll always take a little more pleasure in beating the Avs than any other team. The classic Wings-Avs battles were everything that a rivalry should be. There was bad blood, amazing hockey, epic goalie fights, and repeated playoff meetings. I spent the better part of my formative years hating those guys. Nothing could get me riled up like mentioning the Avs or any of their players in casual conversation (Ask my family. It was a fun little game they used to play.) Watching those games was addictive. You never knew when things were going to boil over. I still have my Patrick Roy voodoo doll that I cut out from the Freep in ’02 sitting on my hockey memorabilia shelf somewhere. For all of the NHL’s attempts at creating division rivalries, nothing even comes close to the animosity that existed between these two teams during the height of the rivalry.
…Because the smack of a solid tape-to-tape pass is music to my ears.
I absolutely love the sounds of a hockey game. One of the reasons that I hate watching basketball is because I can’t stand the sounds of their shoes squeaking on the floor. I literally have to mute the TV on the rare occasions that I tune in. Not so with hockey. I love the slash of skate blades digging into the ice and the crisp sound of a good slapshot. The sound of boards and plexiglass rattling will never fail to bring a smile to my face. Depending on which end of the ice it occurs, sometimes I even like the cling of a puck bouncing off of a goal post. Try listening to a few minutes of play with your eyes closed the next time you DVR a game. You won’t regret it.
…Because anything can happen at any moment.
I’m one of those people who has to be doing at least three things at a time. I have the attention span of a small child in a room full of shiny objects. (As I write this, I’m watching the Tigers game on FSN, G-chatting, and semi-working on a 15-page paper.) When I watch TV shows and even my beloved Tigers, I have to have something else to do, whether it’s a crossword, Sudoku, a book, or my homework. Otherwise I get bored. Not so when hockey’s on. As soon as the puck drops, I’m riveted to the screen. There’s so much going on that I can’t take my eyes off lest I miss something. You never know when the puck is going to ricochet off of two sticks, a skate, someone’s teeth, and Tomas Holmstrom’s rear end and wind up in the goal. Things like that come out of nowhere all the time during hockey games. And if you miss that moment when the puck hits the back of the net, you miss out on part of the fun. Watching it on replay just isn't as much fun. Not only that, but the little things like great defensive coverage or gorgeous outlet passes are too easy to miss if you’re not paying attention, and too often they go unnoticed and aren’t replayed (This was more of a problem in the days before DVR.). I love losing myself in the game and completely clearing my head for a while. I can’t even follow along with the live blogs because they’re too distracting. In short, Red Wings hockey is the only thing that I’ve found that can captivate me like that. And I love every second of it.
…Because getting dirty looks from passing cars is fun.
When I was younger, my family would go on a huge roadtrip every summer. We would invariably find ourselves passing through one or two NHL cities. Accordingly, my brothers and I would spend hours in the car drawing (stick-figure goalies count as drawing, right?) Red Wings pictures and making obnoxious signs. We then proceeded to tape them all over the windows of the van for the viewing pleasure of our theoretically hostile audience. After the car was appropriately decorated, we would spend even more time waving at passing cars in an attempt to draw their attention to our handiwork. We got flicked off our share of times, which always elicited a round of cheers and high fives between us kids, words of disgust from my mother, and admonishment from my father who was certain that every driver was going to run us off the road and pull out a shotgun. In retrospect, it’s almost astonishing that that never happened and that the car was never keyed, the tires never slashed, and the windows never broken. I’m fairly certain that the only reason this tradition was allowed to continue was because otherwise we would have spent all of our time fighting. Clearly the possibility of falling victim to road rage was preferable to driving to the Grand Canyon and back with us bickering in the backseat.
The highlight of our cross-country Red Wings sign-fests came during our trip out west in 2002. The Wings had just won the Cup and we were ecstatic. Our trip would take us to Denver and St. Louis, both homes of teams that had been beaten by the Wings en route to the Finals. Fresh off of our triumph, we set to work planning ideas in advance. I even used my then-burgeoning Photoshop skills to create this little beauty that was slated for display in each window in order to maximize its effect. On our day in Denver, we all dressed head-to-toe in Red Wings gear, most of us sporting our crisp new Stanley Cup Champions shirts. Over the years, we’ve made it to just about every corner of the country, and you had better believe that every mile along the way was highlighted by our Red Wings signs, shirts, hats, and even socks.
Wow, that turned into a novel. Many apologies. Since you made it this far, I’d like to know what drew you into hockey. There are so many things to love about the game.
I love hockey…
…Because every player gets his name engraved on the Stanley Cup.
I know it’s cliché to say that you like hockey because of the Stanley Cup. But there’s a reason so many people love that silver chalice. What trophy out there is cooler? The NBA trophy looks like abstract art, the Lombardi trophy looks like something you’d give out to the runners-up in a middle school football league, and the MLB trophy just looks like a really good way to put your eye out. Can you drink out of any of them? I didn’t think so. What other trophy has the names of all of the players engraved on it? It’s nice to see each one recognized on it because hockey players so rarely take credit for their individual efforts. As if the Cup itself wasn’t cool enough, the traditions surrounding it are awesome. Some of the stories about Stanley’s adventures are the stuff of legend. Face it kids, the Cup is just cool. I also think it’s the shiniest thing I’ve ever seen. And I’ve seen a lot of shiny things because I notice each and every one of them.
…Because Steve Yzerman is the greatest Captain to ever walk the face of the earth.
I loved Steve Yzerman every bit as much as I hated the Avalanche. While other girls my age grew up idolizing JTT and Leonardo DiCaprio, I had a different hero. I never had many idols growing up because I was always afraid that they would turn out to be a disappointment, but you always got the sense that Stevie Y would never let you down. When I was a kid I told my mom that if I ever got a terminal disease, I wanted her to tell Make A Wish that I wanted to meet The Captain in case I couldn’t talk anymore. Clearly, I was a pleasant child to be around. I was at the Joe the night he scored his 600th goal. Every person in the arena clapped and clapped for what seemed like forever. And Yzerman simply stood up near the end of the bench, raised his stick up in the air once, and sat back down and went to work. Because that’s what leaders do. As a Wings fan over the years, I’ve seen my share of (future) Hall of Famers come and go. Somehow, surrounded by all of that talent, Steve Yzerman always managed to stand out. Quite simply, he embodied everything that a captain should be. I don’t need to explain what he means to this team/city. It’s self-evident, and if you don’t understand now, you never will. Stevie’s character has left a legacy in the Wings locker room that still shows. And that class is one of the things that makes me so proud to be a Wings fan. There is very little that any player could ever do to surpass Steve Yzerman in my heart.
…Because mini sticks ruined my knees.
Remember when mini sticks were all the rage? I do. The fad swept through my elementary school shortly after I first got into hockey. No one would let me play at school because I was a girl, but at home, my brother and I would play for hours on end. We never got to play real hockey, so this is as close as we’d get to any real action. We both chose player nicknames that we would use when we were in the “rink.” His was “Fozzie Ozzie,” but for the life of me, I can’t remember what mine was. We agreed on very detailed rules and had an elaborate system for deciding who was right when goals were disputed. We had some epic battles over the years, and it’s a wonder that we never broke anything (furniture or bones). I fully believe that those countless hours spent jumping around my family room floor on my hands and knees is the reason why my knees are in such sorry shape at the ripe old age of twenty-two. It was worth it, though.
…Because Mickey Redmond likes to drink “ginger ale.”
My least favorite thing about the playoffs is the fact that as the Wings advance we no longer get to hear Mickey Redmond on the broadcast. He’s well-known around these parts for his catchphrases like, “Bingo Bango” and “Holy Mackerel,” but that’s not all he brings to the broadcast booth. Then there's his penchant for excessive use of the Telestrator. Aside from that, he’s as old-school as they come and he clearly loves a good “donnybrook” as much as the rest of us. And I love him for it. There are few things more entertaining than hearing him get all riled up about a call on the ice. You get the feeling at times that ol’Mick is fully prepared to head on down to the ice and drop the gloves with a ref or an opposing player to teach him a lesson about how real hockey is played. I keep waiting for him to regale us with the tale of how he used to have to walk to the rink, barefoot, carrying all of his hockey gear, uphill both ways. One of my favorite moments last season was when he and Ken Daniels interviewed Gary Bettman and Mick kept arguing with him while Daniels awkwardly searched for a way to reign him in. the fact that this moment hasn’t made it to YouTube is a fail of epic proportions. Plus, he sings…
…Because I still know all of the words to “I Want Stanley.”
Back in the day, the Wings used to have an official playoff anthem every year. They were cheesy and lame, but they were strangely endearing, especially to 9-year olds. A little part of me wishes they still made them, although I shudder at the thought of what they would’ve created for “The Beard is Back.” The best of the best was “I Want Stanley” from the ill-fated ’96 playoff run. To this day, I can’t listen to the original “I Want Candy” song without hearing the lyrics to the Wings’ edition in my head. My brother and I were obsessed with the Arena Version (Rap Version here). We had an intricate, choreographed interpretive dance routine that we would perform over and over. It involved crosschecks, running laps around our family room with pretend sticks, and an excessive amount of raising the roof. Really the only things that we were lacking were spirit fingers and a few jazz squares. We fought like cats and dogs for most of our childhood, but once we threw on that CD and lined up for the fake opening faceoff that began our routine, we were a team, working together in perfect harmony. At least for those few minutes.
…Because I like being quirky.
I like being an outsider. When it’s not irritating, it can be fun. As much as it annoys me sometimes, I like that hockey’s not “mainstream.” It’s one of the major aspects of my love/hate relationship with the game. Growing up in Michigan, I was lucky to be surrounded by a lot of hockey media coverage thanks to the popularity of the Wings. But travel out of state and you’ll be lucky to find so much as a game recap for the local team. I have to admit that a little part of me likes going on vacation and picking up a newspaper only to complain that they devoted an entire page in the sports section to high school lacrosse, but couldn’t even bother to print NHL box scores. Seriously though, it’s more fun to be on the fringe. It makes you feel edgy and unique. People find it strange and quirky when you say that you like hockey. It’s fun, even if it means that you sometimes have to call around to find a bar that carries Versus. And is willing to turn it on for you.
…Because Darren McCarty turned Claude Lemieux into a turtle on March 26, 1997.
How many regular season scores and game dates do you remember from twelve years ago? Probably not many. How many fights do you celebrate the anniversary of every year? I’m guessing not a whole lot. But when Darren McCarty exacted his revenge for Lemieux’s dirty hit, he heightened a rivalry that defined a large portion of my childhood. What other sport could that happen in? If he were a basketball player, he would’ve just had teammates pretend to hold him back while hoping that their grip didn’t slip and force him to actually fight. In baseball, he would’ve just thrown his batting helmet at Lemieux. I'm not sure what would've happened in an NFL game, but I'm willing to bet that it would've involved an obnoxious celebration afterward. I still have a framed picture of that fight hanging on my bedroom wall. And my hatred that began with Claude Lemieux quickly spread to the rest of the Avs. I can’t even tell you how much I hated them back in the day. Part of me still does, even though it’s not nearly as much fun now. I’m pretty sure that I’ll always take a little more pleasure in beating the Avs than any other team. The classic Wings-Avs battles were everything that a rivalry should be. There was bad blood, amazing hockey, epic goalie fights, and repeated playoff meetings. I spent the better part of my formative years hating those guys. Nothing could get me riled up like mentioning the Avs or any of their players in casual conversation (Ask my family. It was a fun little game they used to play.) Watching those games was addictive. You never knew when things were going to boil over. I still have my Patrick Roy voodoo doll that I cut out from the Freep in ’02 sitting on my hockey memorabilia shelf somewhere. For all of the NHL’s attempts at creating division rivalries, nothing even comes close to the animosity that existed between these two teams during the height of the rivalry.
…Because the smack of a solid tape-to-tape pass is music to my ears.
I absolutely love the sounds of a hockey game. One of the reasons that I hate watching basketball is because I can’t stand the sounds of their shoes squeaking on the floor. I literally have to mute the TV on the rare occasions that I tune in. Not so with hockey. I love the slash of skate blades digging into the ice and the crisp sound of a good slapshot. The sound of boards and plexiglass rattling will never fail to bring a smile to my face. Depending on which end of the ice it occurs, sometimes I even like the cling of a puck bouncing off of a goal post. Try listening to a few minutes of play with your eyes closed the next time you DVR a game. You won’t regret it.
…Because anything can happen at any moment.
I’m one of those people who has to be doing at least three things at a time. I have the attention span of a small child in a room full of shiny objects. (As I write this, I’m watching the Tigers game on FSN, G-chatting, and semi-working on a 15-page paper.) When I watch TV shows and even my beloved Tigers, I have to have something else to do, whether it’s a crossword, Sudoku, a book, or my homework. Otherwise I get bored. Not so when hockey’s on. As soon as the puck drops, I’m riveted to the screen. There’s so much going on that I can’t take my eyes off lest I miss something. You never know when the puck is going to ricochet off of two sticks, a skate, someone’s teeth, and Tomas Holmstrom’s rear end and wind up in the goal. Things like that come out of nowhere all the time during hockey games. And if you miss that moment when the puck hits the back of the net, you miss out on part of the fun. Watching it on replay just isn't as much fun. Not only that, but the little things like great defensive coverage or gorgeous outlet passes are too easy to miss if you’re not paying attention, and too often they go unnoticed and aren’t replayed (This was more of a problem in the days before DVR.). I love losing myself in the game and completely clearing my head for a while. I can’t even follow along with the live blogs because they’re too distracting. In short, Red Wings hockey is the only thing that I’ve found that can captivate me like that. And I love every second of it.
…Because getting dirty looks from passing cars is fun.
When I was younger, my family would go on a huge roadtrip every summer. We would invariably find ourselves passing through one or two NHL cities. Accordingly, my brothers and I would spend hours in the car drawing (stick-figure goalies count as drawing, right?) Red Wings pictures and making obnoxious signs. We then proceeded to tape them all over the windows of the van for the viewing pleasure of our theoretically hostile audience. After the car was appropriately decorated, we would spend even more time waving at passing cars in an attempt to draw their attention to our handiwork. We got flicked off our share of times, which always elicited a round of cheers and high fives between us kids, words of disgust from my mother, and admonishment from my father who was certain that every driver was going to run us off the road and pull out a shotgun. In retrospect, it’s almost astonishing that that never happened and that the car was never keyed, the tires never slashed, and the windows never broken. I’m fairly certain that the only reason this tradition was allowed to continue was because otherwise we would have spent all of our time fighting. Clearly the possibility of falling victim to road rage was preferable to driving to the Grand Canyon and back with us bickering in the backseat.
The highlight of our cross-country Red Wings sign-fests came during our trip out west in 2002. The Wings had just won the Cup and we were ecstatic. Our trip would take us to Denver and St. Louis, both homes of teams that had been beaten by the Wings en route to the Finals. Fresh off of our triumph, we set to work planning ideas in advance. I even used my then-burgeoning Photoshop skills to create this little beauty that was slated for display in each window in order to maximize its effect. On our day in Denver, we all dressed head-to-toe in Red Wings gear, most of us sporting our crisp new Stanley Cup Champions shirts. Over the years, we’ve made it to just about every corner of the country, and you had better believe that every mile along the way was highlighted by our Red Wings signs, shirts, hats, and even socks.
Wow, that turned into a novel. Many apologies. Since you made it this far, I’d like to know what drew you into hockey. There are so many things to love about the game.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Almost Deja Vu...
Oh holy God. We're headed to Game 7. I'd be lying if I said I didn't expect this, but it still stings. I was a total wreck throughout the third period. I probably would've been sucking my thumb if it didn't still taste like my softball mitt. In the end, the Wings wound up the same way my softball team did: beaten and bloodied. Well, I didn't actually see any Wings shed blood, but it wasn't for lack of trying on Anaheim's part. Honestly, every time they survive a game against Pronger.You.Goon without him taking someone's head off with an elbow, I feel like I've witnessed a modern miracle.
As I said before, I had a bad feeling about this game all day. There was a clerk at the grocery store today who saw my Wings T-shirt and said he was confident that they were going to win tonight and that they were definitely going on to hoist the Cup. I tried to be polite, but I practically ran away from him like he had swine flu. I couldn't risk inducing the wrath of the ever-fickle Hockey Gods. As if I needed another reason to hate Kroger.
And sure enough, my worst fears were realized. Tonight played out exactly like Game 3 did, as well as so many during the regular season. While I had hoped for the Game 5 edition of the Wings, all I got was a slow start and lack of effort. It was like asking Santa for a new bike and finding your cousin's hand-me-down tricycle under the tree on Christmas morning.
At the beginning of the game (and I never do this), I predicted that Datsyuk would get two goals if for no other reason than to mentally will him onto the scoresheet. I was wrong (which is why I never make those predictions), but dang if he didn't put on a puck-handling clinic tonight. As beautiful as it was to watch, there were times when I felt like he was trying to do too much. Now that he's all fired up from his little scrum at the end (Quote of the Day: "Please don't break your face!"), maybe he'll reach down deep and find that ridiculous extra gear that you have to believe he has.
Speaking of the scrum at the end, why is it that every time the Ducks win a game, they have to goon it up after the horn? What other team does that? In Game 3, when the Wings had every right to be upset, it was the Ducks who were instigating the stuff at the end. Same story here, except for the part about the Wings getting robbed by the referee. (Also, was it really necessary to replay the video of the Goal That Wasn't near the end of the game? I personally would be more than happy if all tape of that incident was permanently destroyed.)
While I'm on the subject of the referees, I honestly believe that this series has showcased the worst officiating I've ever seen in my life. My dad keeps trying to bait me into crying conspiracy, but I'm really not that kind of fan. I do, however, believe that this type of epic failure is endemic of the Gary Bettman regime (I apologize for that sentence. I took one too many PoliSci classes in college.). The one incident that stands out in my mind is during a Wings powerplay mid-way through the second period. Homer was literally getting mauled in front of the net. Once he was down, he got a couple more cross-checks and ended up bouncing his face off of the ice. In what universe is that not a penalty? And what is the deal with the quick whistles around the net that have gone universally in the Ducks favor? There were at least two plays whistled dead around their net when clearly the puck was still loose. On the other end of the ice, I specifically remember Ozzie sitting on the puck and getting whacked at and yet play continued.
And seriously, what was with Z getting thrown out on every face-off? He must've spit in the linesman's Gatorade. Or insulted his mother. Or...I don't know. But it can't have been nice.
In the end, though, it wasn't the refs who lost the game for the Wings. You could pretty much see the first Ducks goal coming. You can only take so many stupid penalties before the puck ends up in the back of your net. I can't even remember the last game I saw where a team took two penalties for delay of game like that. Although the Ducks racking up two penalties for too many men on the ice wasn't exactly brilliant. It looks like somebody decided to let PYG do the counting.
But enough complaining. I'm going to move on.
It was good to see Rafalski back in the line-up. Franzen's goal doesn't happen unless he's there to hold the puck in the zone. And nobody does that better than Brian Rafalski. Nobody.
Speaking of Franzen, if he's not the best Big Goal scorer (you know what I mean) in the game, I don't know who is. Also, my Red Wings necklace nearly chipped my tooth as I was wildly jumping around in celebration of said goal. I feel the need to mention that my brother has the biggest man-crush I've ever seen on the Mule. For a long time, I refrained from giving him the credit he deserves just because my brother and I do not agree on anything (Except for our mutual love of the Wings and "The Office.") and I couldn't allow myself to express any affection for my brother's favorite player. I'm pretty sure this man is unstoppable, though. I sure wouldn't want to be the person who get assigned the task of standing in his way.
Another guy who has skyrocketed his way into my heart over the last couple of playoffs is Darren Helm. I call him Helmet for no reason whatsoever. Also, Taz, because he's like a frickin Tasmanian Devil out there. He works his butt off every single shift, and good things seem to happen whenever he's on the ice. It's no coincidence that he drew that tripping penalty. I also feel like Energizer Bunny would be a good nickname for him, but I'm pretty sure that has way too many syllables. This is also a good place to note that I make up a lot of strange nicknames for players. Most of them probably don't make sense to anyone else, but they're mine and I like them. So there.
On the other side of the spotlight, where on earth has Tomas Holmstrom been this series? I seriously love this man most of the time. He's the best in the world at what he does, and just when he started receiving a modicum of credit for it, the NHL decided to crack down on him and revoke what seemed like half of the goals he helped create last year during the playoffs. I think part of his problem is that every time he gets near the crease, he gets destroyed by Anaheim's goon squad, but he should be used to that after all of these years. In all honesty, I wouldn't be surprised to hear that he and Datsyuk are hurting after things are all over and the veil of secrecy has been lifted.
The FSN post-game show ended with this quote: "There's the difference between winning and losing: one tipped puck." They were showing a replay of Anaheim's second goal, but this is exactly what scares me about Game 7s. All it takes is a bad bounce, a bad call, a bad line change, or a bad turnover to ruin everything. I know the last Game 7 the Wings played turned out pretty well (I only bring this up so that I can have positive thoughts as I go to bed), but holy Jesus, the next two days will be stressful.
Fortunately for my nerves, I'm not a big believer in game-to-game momentum. Within games, there definitely is such a thing as momentum, but I've always felt like each game starts with a clean slate momentum-wise. I hope to the Hockey Gods that I'm right.
As I said before, I had a bad feeling about this game all day. There was a clerk at the grocery store today who saw my Wings T-shirt and said he was confident that they were going to win tonight and that they were definitely going on to hoist the Cup. I tried to be polite, but I practically ran away from him like he had swine flu. I couldn't risk inducing the wrath of the ever-fickle Hockey Gods. As if I needed another reason to hate Kroger.
And sure enough, my worst fears were realized. Tonight played out exactly like Game 3 did, as well as so many during the regular season. While I had hoped for the Game 5 edition of the Wings, all I got was a slow start and lack of effort. It was like asking Santa for a new bike and finding your cousin's hand-me-down tricycle under the tree on Christmas morning.
At the beginning of the game (and I never do this), I predicted that Datsyuk would get two goals if for no other reason than to mentally will him onto the scoresheet. I was wrong (which is why I never make those predictions), but dang if he didn't put on a puck-handling clinic tonight. As beautiful as it was to watch, there were times when I felt like he was trying to do too much. Now that he's all fired up from his little scrum at the end (Quote of the Day: "Please don't break your face!"), maybe he'll reach down deep and find that ridiculous extra gear that you have to believe he has.
Speaking of the scrum at the end, why is it that every time the Ducks win a game, they have to goon it up after the horn? What other team does that? In Game 3, when the Wings had every right to be upset, it was the Ducks who were instigating the stuff at the end. Same story here, except for the part about the Wings getting robbed by the referee. (Also, was it really necessary to replay the video of the Goal That Wasn't near the end of the game? I personally would be more than happy if all tape of that incident was permanently destroyed.)
While I'm on the subject of the referees, I honestly believe that this series has showcased the worst officiating I've ever seen in my life. My dad keeps trying to bait me into crying conspiracy, but I'm really not that kind of fan. I do, however, believe that this type of epic failure is endemic of the Gary Bettman regime (I apologize for that sentence. I took one too many PoliSci classes in college.). The one incident that stands out in my mind is during a Wings powerplay mid-way through the second period. Homer was literally getting mauled in front of the net. Once he was down, he got a couple more cross-checks and ended up bouncing his face off of the ice. In what universe is that not a penalty? And what is the deal with the quick whistles around the net that have gone universally in the Ducks favor? There were at least two plays whistled dead around their net when clearly the puck was still loose. On the other end of the ice, I specifically remember Ozzie sitting on the puck and getting whacked at and yet play continued.
And seriously, what was with Z getting thrown out on every face-off? He must've spit in the linesman's Gatorade. Or insulted his mother. Or...I don't know. But it can't have been nice.
In the end, though, it wasn't the refs who lost the game for the Wings. You could pretty much see the first Ducks goal coming. You can only take so many stupid penalties before the puck ends up in the back of your net. I can't even remember the last game I saw where a team took two penalties for delay of game like that. Although the Ducks racking up two penalties for too many men on the ice wasn't exactly brilliant. It looks like somebody decided to let PYG do the counting.
But enough complaining. I'm going to move on.
It was good to see Rafalski back in the line-up. Franzen's goal doesn't happen unless he's there to hold the puck in the zone. And nobody does that better than Brian Rafalski. Nobody.
Speaking of Franzen, if he's not the best Big Goal scorer (you know what I mean) in the game, I don't know who is. Also, my Red Wings necklace nearly chipped my tooth as I was wildly jumping around in celebration of said goal. I feel the need to mention that my brother has the biggest man-crush I've ever seen on the Mule. For a long time, I refrained from giving him the credit he deserves just because my brother and I do not agree on anything (Except for our mutual love of the Wings and "The Office.") and I couldn't allow myself to express any affection for my brother's favorite player. I'm pretty sure this man is unstoppable, though. I sure wouldn't want to be the person who get assigned the task of standing in his way.
Another guy who has skyrocketed his way into my heart over the last couple of playoffs is Darren Helm. I call him Helmet for no reason whatsoever. Also, Taz, because he's like a frickin Tasmanian Devil out there. He works his butt off every single shift, and good things seem to happen whenever he's on the ice. It's no coincidence that he drew that tripping penalty. I also feel like Energizer Bunny would be a good nickname for him, but I'm pretty sure that has way too many syllables. This is also a good place to note that I make up a lot of strange nicknames for players. Most of them probably don't make sense to anyone else, but they're mine and I like them. So there.
On the other side of the spotlight, where on earth has Tomas Holmstrom been this series? I seriously love this man most of the time. He's the best in the world at what he does, and just when he started receiving a modicum of credit for it, the NHL decided to crack down on him and revoke what seemed like half of the goals he helped create last year during the playoffs. I think part of his problem is that every time he gets near the crease, he gets destroyed by Anaheim's goon squad, but he should be used to that after all of these years. In all honesty, I wouldn't be surprised to hear that he and Datsyuk are hurting after things are all over and the veil of secrecy has been lifted.
The FSN post-game show ended with this quote: "There's the difference between winning and losing: one tipped puck." They were showing a replay of Anaheim's second goal, but this is exactly what scares me about Game 7s. All it takes is a bad bounce, a bad call, a bad line change, or a bad turnover to ruin everything. I know the last Game 7 the Wings played turned out pretty well (I only bring this up so that I can have positive thoughts as I go to bed), but holy Jesus, the next two days will be stressful.
Fortunately for my nerves, I'm not a big believer in game-to-game momentum. Within games, there definitely is such a thing as momentum, but I've always felt like each game starts with a clean slate momentum-wise. I hope to the Hockey Gods that I'm right.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
In Which I Show Some Love, and Some Hate...
In lieu of reporting any actual news, I've decided to put a little more of myself out there.
For starters, my hockey fandom began one day during the 1995 Stanley Cup Finals. I was 9. My dad had been closely following the Wings playoff run, but for some reason that probably made sense to my little mind, I had refused to join him in watching the games. You might chalk that up to me being a girl, but I always sat and watched Tigers games, and I'm told that I even enjoyed the Lions at one (very sad) point in my life. Finally, my dad sat me down on the couch and told me that I HAD to watch one whole game with him. After that, if I didn't like it, I never had to watch another game in my life. On the other hand, if I did like it, I'd probably be thanking him for a long time. I made the deal with him, and over the course of those 60 minutes, I fell in love. I didn't know a thing about what I was watching, but it amazed me. And from that day on, I was hooked. The Wings went on to lose that series, but it didn't matter to me. It was the beginning of the single greatest defining obsession in my life. There are moments (like when I have fits because real-life commitments prevent me from watching games) when I'm sure my dad regrets that fateful day, but most of the time I think he's secretly glad that he raised a daughter who he can intelligently talk sports with and not some prissy little princess.
Anyway, back to the present. My current player obsession centers around Henrik Zetterberg and Pavel Datsyuk. (While I'm on the subject, I'm beyond thrilled to see them reunited. I had only been yelling that suggestion at my TV for three games before it finally happened.) They have exactly the kind of puck movement that first dazzled me in the days of the Russian Five. Coincidentally, they also account for the name of my blog. "Snipe Snipe" would be Zetterberg (If you don't know where this came from, you're probably not a die-hard enough fan to be reading hockey blogs.), and Datsyuk is Mr. Dangle Dangle himself. I actually wanted to put the Dangle before the Snipe because, theoretically, dangling would precede sniping (and also because Datsyuk makes me laugh nearly every time he speaks), but the cadence of "Dangle Dangle, Snipe Snipe" reminded me too much of the "Veggie Veggie, Fruit Fruit" song from that old Disney World show. It's also important to note that in moments of weakness I may refer to Zetterberg as "Hockey Boyfriend." I mean this in the least Puck-Bunnyish way possible, of course. I've always said that one of the benefits of being a female sports fan is getting to admire the men, especially when they're sweaty and wearing eye-black (Oh Winter Classic, how I miss you.).
I also have a great affection for Drapes and Maltby, dating back to their Grind Line days. Granted, neither one of them had a particularly good year, but I'm a loyal sort, and I can't forget the great joy that they brought me as a child.
My next player of note is Chris Osgood. I have always been an Ozzie supporter, even when he got run out of town by Dominik Hasek. That man takes a lot of crap, and most of it is undeserved. All year long, I found myself defending him, despite his god-awful stats. If the Wings had decided to actually play defense for any significant portion of the season, he'd have been riding high all year. All you have to do is look at the man's numbers over his career, especially in the playoffs. All the guy does is win hockey games. I don't want to hear about being buoyed by having a talented team in front of him. That only adds to the pressure. And one thing's certain: when the pressure is on, so is Chris Osgood. 'Nuff said.
I also have to mention Jiri Hudler. This man never ceases to amuse me. Every time I see him on screen, it makes me laugh. I'm not even entirely sure why. You know how there are certain people who you just want to hug? Well, he's one of them. I mean this, of course, in an entirely non-sexual way. He just always looks like he's having fun, and...I'm not really sure how to describe it. I feel the same way about Curtis Granderson. Plus, he's like 5'2 in skates, but he'll still mix it up with anyone. That may actually be an advantage against a guy like Chris Pronger.You.Goon, because he might be able to fly below elbow range.
It's also fairly obvious that I have a deep-seated hatred for Chris Pronger.You.Goon (helpfully abbreviated PYG. Please pronounce this like "pig." I think it's fitting.) Since I have a great fondness for delicious irony, one of my favorite hockey moments of all time was when PYG tried to run Stevie Y in the playoffs a few years back and ended up busting his own ACL. You could, quite literally, taste the irony in the air.
Since I'm on the subject of players that I dislike, I feel like I should mention my semi-irrational hatred of Sidney Crosby, or, as I like to call him, Gary Bettman's Little Buddy. I know it's fairly cliche for non-Pittsburg fans to hate Crosby, but I felt that way before it was cool. Ever since his name first came on my radar during the lockout year (AKA the worst year of my life), I was annoyed by him. The fact that he was treated like the second coming of Wayne Gretzky before even playing an NHL game really pissed me off. I grew up watching Wings late-round draft picks who came into their own based only on hard work and skill be ignored by the NHL marketing machine, and here was this kid I'd never seen before sucking up all of the media attention. I don't like people who get things handed to them on a platter. Much to my consternation, he turned out to be a pretty good player. Not the best, mind you, but pretty darn good, nonetheless. What I really hate is having his stupid Napoleon Dynamite face shoved down my throat by the NHL media. It quite literally makes me gag. And what's worse is that it's no good for the game. The real hockey fans see through the marketing and nothing gets us all more riled up bringing up the Little Buddy's name in a crowded sports bar. If the NHL would just acknowledge the existence of star players not named Crosby or Ovechkin (like say, Datsyuk, Zetterberg, Kane, Toews, Getzlaf, Nash, just to name a few), they would have a much less divisive marketing campaign. Instead, I'm forced to watch that stupid commercial where the Penguins fan has his TV in a penalty box that apparently has all three Pens highlights from the Finals playing on a continuous loop. Watching that commercial, the casual fan probably wouldn't realize that it was, in fact, the Wings who were drinking from Lord Stanley's Cup last year.
Another thing that still has me riled up is that God-awful call from the end of Game 3. You know which one I'm talking about. I know I should've moved on by know, but when something like that is still gnawing at my soul a week later, I have to vent about it somewhere. The thing that really made me angry the next day was that the NHL blindly stood by this Watson guy. These are the moments that make me hope that the Hockey Gods smite Gary Bettman with a lightning bolt from on high. A couple of days ago, the NBA (which has always been known for its classiness) openly admitted that a blown call in the final seconds of a game caused a team to lose. The exact details are fuzzy because I really couldn't care less about basketball, but it really struck me in light of the epic officiating failure on the Goal That Wasn't. The NBA at least had the guts to come out and say that their ref screwed up. I also seem to recall an NFL official apologizing after blowing a call back in the fall. I'm not one of those fans who thinks there's a massive conspiracy out to get the Wings, but let's face it, that was a major screw-up that impacted the outcome of an important playoff game.
For starters, my hockey fandom began one day during the 1995 Stanley Cup Finals. I was 9. My dad had been closely following the Wings playoff run, but for some reason that probably made sense to my little mind, I had refused to join him in watching the games. You might chalk that up to me being a girl, but I always sat and watched Tigers games, and I'm told that I even enjoyed the Lions at one (very sad) point in my life. Finally, my dad sat me down on the couch and told me that I HAD to watch one whole game with him. After that, if I didn't like it, I never had to watch another game in my life. On the other hand, if I did like it, I'd probably be thanking him for a long time. I made the deal with him, and over the course of those 60 minutes, I fell in love. I didn't know a thing about what I was watching, but it amazed me. And from that day on, I was hooked. The Wings went on to lose that series, but it didn't matter to me. It was the beginning of the single greatest defining obsession in my life. There are moments (like when I have fits because real-life commitments prevent me from watching games) when I'm sure my dad regrets that fateful day, but most of the time I think he's secretly glad that he raised a daughter who he can intelligently talk sports with and not some prissy little princess.
Anyway, back to the present. My current player obsession centers around Henrik Zetterberg and Pavel Datsyuk. (While I'm on the subject, I'm beyond thrilled to see them reunited. I had only been yelling that suggestion at my TV for three games before it finally happened.) They have exactly the kind of puck movement that first dazzled me in the days of the Russian Five. Coincidentally, they also account for the name of my blog. "Snipe Snipe" would be Zetterberg (If you don't know where this came from, you're probably not a die-hard enough fan to be reading hockey blogs.), and Datsyuk is Mr. Dangle Dangle himself. I actually wanted to put the Dangle before the Snipe because, theoretically, dangling would precede sniping (and also because Datsyuk makes me laugh nearly every time he speaks), but the cadence of "Dangle Dangle, Snipe Snipe" reminded me too much of the "Veggie Veggie, Fruit Fruit" song from that old Disney World show. It's also important to note that in moments of weakness I may refer to Zetterberg as "Hockey Boyfriend." I mean this in the least Puck-Bunnyish way possible, of course. I've always said that one of the benefits of being a female sports fan is getting to admire the men, especially when they're sweaty and wearing eye-black (Oh Winter Classic, how I miss you.).
I also have a great affection for Drapes and Maltby, dating back to their Grind Line days. Granted, neither one of them had a particularly good year, but I'm a loyal sort, and I can't forget the great joy that they brought me as a child.
My next player of note is Chris Osgood. I have always been an Ozzie supporter, even when he got run out of town by Dominik Hasek. That man takes a lot of crap, and most of it is undeserved. All year long, I found myself defending him, despite his god-awful stats. If the Wings had decided to actually play defense for any significant portion of the season, he'd have been riding high all year. All you have to do is look at the man's numbers over his career, especially in the playoffs. All the guy does is win hockey games. I don't want to hear about being buoyed by having a talented team in front of him. That only adds to the pressure. And one thing's certain: when the pressure is on, so is Chris Osgood. 'Nuff said.
I also have to mention Jiri Hudler. This man never ceases to amuse me. Every time I see him on screen, it makes me laugh. I'm not even entirely sure why. You know how there are certain people who you just want to hug? Well, he's one of them. I mean this, of course, in an entirely non-sexual way. He just always looks like he's having fun, and...I'm not really sure how to describe it. I feel the same way about Curtis Granderson. Plus, he's like 5'2 in skates, but he'll still mix it up with anyone. That may actually be an advantage against a guy like Chris Pronger.You.Goon, because he might be able to fly below elbow range.
It's also fairly obvious that I have a deep-seated hatred for Chris Pronger.You.Goon (helpfully abbreviated PYG. Please pronounce this like "pig." I think it's fitting.) Since I have a great fondness for delicious irony, one of my favorite hockey moments of all time was when PYG tried to run Stevie Y in the playoffs a few years back and ended up busting his own ACL. You could, quite literally, taste the irony in the air.
Since I'm on the subject of players that I dislike, I feel like I should mention my semi-irrational hatred of Sidney Crosby, or, as I like to call him, Gary Bettman's Little Buddy. I know it's fairly cliche for non-Pittsburg fans to hate Crosby, but I felt that way before it was cool. Ever since his name first came on my radar during the lockout year (AKA the worst year of my life), I was annoyed by him. The fact that he was treated like the second coming of Wayne Gretzky before even playing an NHL game really pissed me off. I grew up watching Wings late-round draft picks who came into their own based only on hard work and skill be ignored by the NHL marketing machine, and here was this kid I'd never seen before sucking up all of the media attention. I don't like people who get things handed to them on a platter. Much to my consternation, he turned out to be a pretty good player. Not the best, mind you, but pretty darn good, nonetheless. What I really hate is having his stupid Napoleon Dynamite face shoved down my throat by the NHL media. It quite literally makes me gag. And what's worse is that it's no good for the game. The real hockey fans see through the marketing and nothing gets us all more riled up bringing up the Little Buddy's name in a crowded sports bar. If the NHL would just acknowledge the existence of star players not named Crosby or Ovechkin (like say, Datsyuk, Zetterberg, Kane, Toews, Getzlaf, Nash, just to name a few), they would have a much less divisive marketing campaign. Instead, I'm forced to watch that stupid commercial where the Penguins fan has his TV in a penalty box that apparently has all three Pens highlights from the Finals playing on a continuous loop. Watching that commercial, the casual fan probably wouldn't realize that it was, in fact, the Wings who were drinking from Lord Stanley's Cup last year.
Another thing that still has me riled up is that God-awful call from the end of Game 3. You know which one I'm talking about. I know I should've moved on by know, but when something like that is still gnawing at my soul a week later, I have to vent about it somewhere. The thing that really made me angry the next day was that the NHL blindly stood by this Watson guy. These are the moments that make me hope that the Hockey Gods smite Gary Bettman with a lightning bolt from on high. A couple of days ago, the NBA (which has always been known for its classiness) openly admitted that a blown call in the final seconds of a game caused a team to lose. The exact details are fuzzy because I really couldn't care less about basketball, but it really struck me in light of the epic officiating failure on the Goal That Wasn't. The NBA at least had the guts to come out and say that their ref screwed up. I also seem to recall an NFL official apologizing after blowing a call back in the fall. I'm not one of those fans who thinks there's a massive conspiracy out to get the Wings, but let's face it, that was a major screw-up that impacted the outcome of an important playoff game.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)